Until I Get You Read Online Claire Contreras

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, College, Contemporary, Dark, New Adult, Sports Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)

My reputation at Fairview University preceded me. I was the projected number-one pick in the NHL draft and the fan favorite at the rink. People wanted to be me or be with me.

Except for Lyla James Marichal.

She didn't look at me like I was her next meal. She eyed me with disdain.
Instead of vying for my attention, she ignored me and pushed me away.

She was completely unattainable, and I became obsessed with her.

When I finally got her, it felt like I was on top of the world. I was going to help the team win another championship, going into the draft, and had Lyla by my side.

And then, without warning, she left me.


It took me three bitter, angry, long years to find her, but I did, and now she owes me a lot more than just an explanation.

Three years ago, she ruined my life.
Now, I was going to become her worst nightmare.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************





Sometimes wings are built from despair. That was the thought at the forefront of my mind as I stared at my car, fighting the cold chill slithering down my spine. At first glance, it looked like a random act of vandalism, but I knew the truth. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, glass crunching under my shoes as I circled to the driver's side. I opened the door and used the t-shirt to wipe the driver's seat before sitting down. As soon as I shut the car door, the smell of cigarettes filled my nostrils, and I gagged. It was a visceral reaction. I tried to push through it by squeezing my eyes shut and tightening the grip on the duffel bag on my lap.

My breath caught when I turned to set my bag on the passenger seat and saw a piece of glass very deliberately placed on the left side. My hands shook as I switched on the engine. There was another cigarette bud on the dash. I left it there as I drove away, careful to show no reaction. I knew he was watching. I didn't know where he was, but I knew he was watching. He got off on shit like this, but he didn't deserve access to my emotions, and I wouldn't grant it. We both knew his message was clear.

I drove home feeling sick with anxiety, but otherwise, I was calm. As soon as I parked, I raced to my apartment, locking the door behind me. I dashed to my bedroom and did the same. With a heavy heart, I looked at the photos before me, my silent reminder of why I shouldn't have let my guard down. Marissa had laid out an outfit for me. I considered skipping the event. I should have, but I'd spent the last two years of college living like a hermit.

I was tired of it. I was tired of him wanting to destroy everything that brought me joy. I just wanted to go to a party like a regular college student and not worry about the consequences. There were strict rules for this particular party–a small and vetted list of guests, no phones, and no pictures. I knew I could go without worry. I knew he wouldn't come after me there. He couldn't. I wasn't sure it even mattered anymore. He already knew about us. In two days, we'd be out of here. Two days. I stood up and looked at the dress one more time. His message reminded me of what he could still do to me. He'd tried to cut my wings before. He probably thought he'd rip them up and burn them this time. I wouldn't let him. I got up and got ready for the party.



We met under a multitude of improbabilities. For starters, I almost didn’t go to the party that night. Earlier in the week, I’d been in a car accident. It was my brother’s fault. He’d veered off the road, trying to avoid hitting a deer. He was successful but killed two coyotes that were left wedged between the front bumper and an oak tree. Needless to say, Mr. PETA was a mess. He broke his left arm. I got a couple of stitches on my jaw. Our mother acted like the world was coming to an end. Local newspapers and magazines plastered my face across their front pages: Fairview Hockey Star in Car Accident. It was all very dramatic.

Two days later, I was back on the ice, scoring the goal that pushed us into the semifinals. Usually, it was something I would want to celebrate, but I was dealing with a killer headache and had to be up early to help my brother move his shit to his girlfriend’s place. Besides, I’d already done this celebration twice. This year would mark the third in a row if we could pull it off. I didn’t see why we wouldn’t, as long as I was starting. I wasn’t being cocky. The Fairview Hockey Team was trash before I decided to come here four years ago. Once I signed, I’d gotten a few other players to sign, and we dominated.

I’d been an underdog my whole life before I started playing hockey. I also had a chip on my shoulder the size of Alaska. These days, it was more like Georgia since I finally got my deserved recognition. I was revered as one of the best players in the country; I already had a lucrative contract presented to me by a professional team last year to prove it.

My friends thought I was crazy to pass it up. My advisor harped on it for months before he let it go. I had a plan. I’d finish my four years here, sign as a free agent with my dream team, and get even more money and opportunities. It wasn’t just the money for me, but it would help. I wouldn’t have to rely on my deadbeat father anymore. To be fair, my father wasn’t a deadbeat by anyone else’s standards. No, Henry Duke, heir to Duke Tech Enterprises — a now billion-dollar company that provided the government and elites with information and security — was a fucking golden boy. I’d received a full-ride on a hockey scholarship, but Liam would have relied on grants and loans had it not been for Henry Duke paying his tuition in full. As well as his company did, it was the least he could do. As far as I was concerned, the only thing Henry and I shared was blood and a last name — and the latter was only until I got around to changing mine. To me, Henry Duke might as well be a nobody. With as little as I saw of him, I was sure the feeling was mutual.