“Don’t kick me out again.”
I twist in his arms until I’m able to loop mine loosely around his neck before dragging his face close. My body strains toward him like a magnet as his mouth ghosts over mine. “I didn’t kick you out.” The lie trips off my tongue as guilt flickers inside me. “I wasn’t feeling good.”
“I know what would have made you feel better.” His lips curve as a devilish glint enters his dark depths. “Lucky for you, I’ve got the cure.”
I roll my eyes.
Carefully he maneuvers me against the neighboring locker until I’m flattened to the metal and the solid strength of his body covers mine. I crane my neck to hold his gaze.
“You’re mine and I don’t like being away from you,” he murmurs.
Your father is working on a way out of this mess. We’re trying to help you.
My heart skips a beat as Mom’s words echo throughout my head.
Is that what I want?
To break off this engagement?
After sifting through my thoughts and feelings last night, I’m not any closer to an answer. My attention stays pinned to Kingsley as questions swirl through my brain. The temptation to come clean is so strong that I have to stop myself from blurting it out.
How can I confess that my family is searching for ways to betray his? Kingsley is bound to the same sense of loyalty as I am. It’s a no-win situation. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
His hand slides into my ponytail before wrapping the thick length of hair around his palm until there is no slack. His mahogany-colored gaze sifts through mine as if he can decipher my innermost thoughts. It’s a disconcerting sensation. When I avert my attention, his grip tightens, and my lips open on a gasp.
“What’s going on?” The playfulness filling his voice falls away, leaving a steeliness in its place. This is the contradiction that is Kingsley Rothchild. He can be soft and tender. Or forceful when necessary. Perhaps the latter should scare me, instead it turns me on.
Not only is he aware of it, he relishes it.
As much as I want to confide in him, I remain silent. If I tell him about my parents and nothing comes of it, I’ll have stirred up a shit storm for no reason. Everyone will be pissed off, and it will only create more bad blood between our families.
The entire town hates us for past misdeeds. Only now has it settled down, and that has everything to do with my relationship with Kingsley. In this realm, he’s king. Whether or not it’s a conscious decision, everyone follows his lead. I know what it’s like to have the student population of Hawthorne Prep turned against me. That’s not something I want to live through again.
“Answer me, baby girl.” His grip turns punishing, and a small cry leaves my lips. My heartbeat riots against my ribcage as arousal gathers in my core, flooding my panties with heat.
In the beginning of our relationship, the pleasure I derived from the hurt he inflicted disturbed me. It was impossible to wrap my brain around how something painful could cause so much arousal to flood my system. Was it normal to be so turned on by someone pinching my nipples, biting my lower lip, or tugging on my hair, all the while forcing me to surrender?
I have no idea.
Kingsley is the first person I’ve had a sexual relationship with. It’s a brand-new world he’s opened up. Whether or not it’s right, I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t care if it makes me a deviant or freak. I love the way he touches me. I love submitting to him. If that makes me weak, then so be it.
“There’s nothing.” I hoist my smile. “Everything is fine.”
When I shake my head, the strands of my hair tug against my scalp. It sends another punch of need to the bottom of my belly. All right, so maybe the explosion takes place much lower.
“Hmmm.” He scrutinizes my expression as if assessing me for the truth. Remorse slices through me. Even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t.
His face looms closer until his tongue can sweep over my lips. Unable to help myself, I open, only wanting to banish everything that has been haunting me for the last twenty-four hours.
Instead of kissing me, he whispers, “Don’t ever lie to me, Summer. In order for this relationship to work, we need to trust each other. Once you’ve broken that trust, it’s gone.”
A shiver of unease creeps down my spine as my mouth turns bone-dry. I have no idea how to respond. When it comes down to it, I am lying to him by not admitting what I know. An omission of the truth is still a lie.
I’m saved from having to answer when a deep voice yells from down the hall, “Get a damn room, Rothchild!” Laughter reverberates off the walls as people turn in our direction.
Heat slams into my cheeks as I blink back to awareness.
How does he do that?
How is he able to make the world fall away around us?
“I’d love to,” he responds without releasing me from the intensity of his gaze. It’s as if I’ve been imprisoned and can’t fight my way out.
When my teeth sink into my bottom lip, he groans. “The only thing better than the way you’re looking at me is when you do it from your knees.”
I swallow as that image fills my mind.
His hand loosens from my ponytail before his large palms cup the sides of my skull. My eyelids flutter as his mouth settles over mine. The velvety softness of his tongue forces its way inside my mouth. It doesn’t take much persuasion on his end. I’m more than willing to give him what he wants. What we both want. He tips my head for better access. A whimper slides free from my lips as he stakes his claim for all to see.
When he pulls away, his eyes are heavy-lidded and full of promise. “Don’t ever forget that your mine.”
As if I could.
As if I’d want to.
My hands rise from the back of his neck, plowing their way through his thick hair before dragging his head down until his mouth is a breath away. My tongue darts out to trace over his lips. “Just as long as you don’t forget the same.”
A feral smile slides across his face. It’s filled with darkness and all the carnal pleasure he’s introduced me to. “I’ll cry it from the fucking rooftops if that’s what you want.”
I have no doubt he would.
The excitement he’s able to incite so effortlessly now riots deep in my core.
The two-minute warning bell rings, knocking me from the seductive web he so easily wove around me. It takes effort to dispel the sexual energy careening through my body and clouding my better judgment. Needing a bit of distance to clear my mind, I gently push him away. His attention never wavers as he reluctantly retreats, allowing me to escape his hold.
With a shaky breath, I grab my book from my locker and hug it close to my chest. “We should probably go.”
“What’s the matter?” He smirks knowingly. “Not looking to incur the wrath of Pettijohn bright and early on a Monday morning?”
Even the thought is enough to send a slight shudder of dread sliding through me. “God, no.”
In an effort to escape the older teacher’s unwanted attention, I do my best to fly under the radar and avoid her eagle-eyed scrutiny. That means making it to class on time, handing in every assignment promptly, and paying attention during lectures. So far, it’s been working.
For the most part.
As we fall into line, walking to first hour, he leans toward me until his warm breath can feather against the outer shell of my ear. “You’ve got me all hot and bothered, girl. Don’t be surprised if I find you during the day and fuck you senseless.”
The breath I had unconsciously been holding hisses from my lungs as another wave of excitement crashes over me. I clench my thighs together to stifle the surge of arousal roaring through my blood.
I should smack him in the arm and tell him to go to hell. But how can I when the thought of him doing exactly that makes my knees weak and my pulse skitter? The attraction that rages between us could easily burn out of control and yet, I wouldn’t have i
t any other way.
Chapter Four
With a few seconds to spare, we step over the threshold of the classroom and slide into our assigned seats. I settle at my desk as Kingsley drops onto a chair two rows over.
He gives me one last simmering look before twisting around. I shift as need floods through me. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be walking around in a heightened state of arousal for the rest of the day.
Unless Kingsley makes good on his threat.
I’m distracted from those thoughts when Sloane saunters into the room with Aubrey, her trusty sidekick. Her blue gaze immediately fastens on to Kingsley before she flicks it in my direction. The hatred that blazes from her is almost like a physical punch to the gut. Since day one, she’s had it out for me. And in the month I’ve been here, it’s only gotten worse.
With a flip of her long blond hair, she dismisses me as if I don’t exist.
“Hi, Kingsley.” She loiters near his desk, trailing her fingers along his arm before settling on the seat in front of him.
One.
Two.
Three.
Fou—
She spins around and thrusts out her breasts in one smooth motion. The rounded curve strains against the white fabric of her shirt. Any moment, buttons will fly. My ears prick, attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation. I hate myself for the jealousy that spikes unwantedly through my veins.
“Hey,” he responds, disinterest weaving its way through his deep voice as his gaze slides to mine.
Fury flashes across the other girl’s face when she realizes his interest has been snagged elsewhere. Even though the pink-slicked smile never falters, the iciness filling her eyes is enough to freeze me on the spot.
Deep down, I know she’s not a threat to my relationship with Kingsley. Sloane Carmichael is nothing more than a mean girl who thrives on intimidation. She gets off on threatening to socially crucify those beneath her. I can only imagine how much it infuriates her to know that she can’t touch me without pissing off Kingsley.
As Ms. Pettijohn clears her throat, ready to get this show on the road, a girl with long auburn-colored hair hesitantly steps into the classroom. Her unusual blue-green eyes flicker over the sea of bored expressions. Uncertainty flashes across her pretty face before it’s shuttered away behind a mask of indifference.
“Ms. Donahue, I presume?”
The girl dips her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ms. Pettijohn points to the unoccupied desk across from mine. “You may take a seat right there. I’ll get you a literature book after class.”
“Thank you.” With that, the new girl beelines to the desk and settles on her chair.
It’s almost difficult to believe that a little less than two months ago, I was the new girl at Hawthorne Prep. A shudder scuttles down my spine as memories engulf me.
I flash a smile in her direction, wanting to put her at ease. “Hi,” I whisper, “I’m Summer.”
“Everly.” Her lips quirk into a grateful smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
When Ms. Pettijohn clears her throat, I glance to the front of the room. My gaze immediately crashes with her narrowed one and I wince, dreading the none-too-gentle reprimand sure to follow.
“I do hope we’re not interrupting your conversation, Ms. Hawthorne.”
Warmth floods into my cheeks as I straighten in my chair. “No, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” She pauses and a few people turn in their seats to stare. “I trust you would approve of starting class since we have a great deal of instruction that needs to occur and a limited amount of time to impart it?”
I nod, not bothering to give a verbal response since we all know the question is more rhetorical in nature. Sloane swivels on her chair enough for me to see the delighted smile wreathing her face. Thank goodness this is the only class we share. When I glance at Kingsley, he gives me a little wink. The tension coiled tightly in the pit of my belly gradually loosens.
The next forty-eight minutes drag as we do a deep delve into Wuthering Heights. Even though I adore the story and have read it more than half a dozen times, Ms. Pettijohn manages to suck every drop of pleasure out of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship. It’s a relief when the bell rings, signaling the end of the period.
“All right, everyone,” the older woman says, “don’t forget about the quiz tomorrow. Study as if your grade depends on it.” There’s a pause. “Because it does.”
A groan ripples throughout the sea of navy blazers.
“Ms. Donahue,” the teacher holds up the thick literature tome, “here is your textbook. There are several novels that are required reading for the semester. Please consider purchasing them. The list is on the syllabus. As I’m sure you could surmise, we’re midway through Wuthering Heights. If you don’t own a copy, I highly suggest you get your hands on one.”
Everly nods.
When another student captures Ms. Pettijohn’s attention, I say, “If you need a copy, I can lend you mine. I’ve already read the story.”
“Are you sure?” Surprise colors Everly’s expression. “I’d really appreciate that. I’ll order it after school.”
I wave off her gratitude. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Excellent,” Ms. Pettijohn cuts in before pointedly glancing at the clock on the wall. “You should both get moving to second hour.”
A quick glance around reveals that all the other students have fled the room. Not that I can blame them. Normally, I’m one of the first to escape.
As we exit the room, Everly falls in line with me.
“What’s your next—”
My voice is abruptly cut off when arms wrap around from behind, hoisting me off the floor before swinging me in a tight circle. When I squeal, Everly’s brows skyrocket across her forehead. For a heartbeat or two, I get lost in the feel of Kingsley and almost forget she’s beside me. The urge to burrow against his warmth thrums through me.
Instead, I push my way out of his embrace before clearing my throat and waving a hand toward the dark-haired boy. “Everly, this is my boyfriend, Kingsley.”
Other than family, no one knows we’re secretly engaged. And that’s exactly the way I want it to stay.
“Hi,” she says, a friendly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Kingsley jerks his chin in acknowledgment. “Welcome to Hawthorne Prep.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze roams over the crowded hallway. “I’m not going to lie, this place is kind of intimidating.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, remembering how daunting it felt when Austin rolled the G-wagon through the wrought iron gates for the first time and we got a good look at the school, “I know the feeling.”
“All right, babe. I gotta take off.” Kingsley smacks a kiss against my lips. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Okay.” It’s oh-so-tempting to melt against him. There might be conflict raging inside my head, but my body knows exactly what it wants.
Kingsley.
Everly and I watch him saunter in the opposite direction as we’re swept away on a tide of students moving down the packed hallway.
When he disappears, Everly turns to me with a bemused expression. “So that’s your boyfriend, huh?”
A little bubble of giddiness explodes inside me.
“Yup, that’s him.” As the words slide from my lips, I realize how much I like them. How much I like being in a relationship with him. It’s what makes the situation with my parents so complicated. I wish the family business had nothing to do with us.
Unaware of the thoughts circling through my head, Everly’s lips lift into a teasing smile as she nudges me with her shoulder. “You, my friend, are a very lucky girl.”
I burst into laughter and the auburn-haired girl grins, following suit. It feels good to have someone to laugh with. At Hawthorne Prep, where there are people eagerly waiting to rip me to shreds, I could really use a friend.
Changing the subject, I ask, “What’s your next class?”
Everly pulls out her schedule and glances at the folded piece of paper in her hand. “Looks like it’s AP psychology with Mr. Timmons.”
“Bummer. I have him sixth hour.” I point to the intersecting corridor we’re about to cross. “His classroom is that way.” After we make the turn, the room is midway down the corridor.
Once we reach the door, our feet slow and I throw the offer out there, wishing someone had done the same for me. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch.”
“Thanks,” a smile of relief lights up her face, “I’d like that.”
“Good.” I glance at the ocean of students in their uniforms. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like there’s a friendly face in the crowd. “I know what it’s like to be new here. They’re kind of a clicky bunch, but don’t worry, it’ll get better.”
As long as your name isn’t Hawthorne.
Interest flickers across her expression as she studies me. “When did you move here?”
“At the start of the school year.” Even though it’s been less than two months, sometimes it feels like forever.
“And you’ve already got that guy?”
“I guess so.”
“Wow, girl,” she says with a laugh. “You work fast. I’m seriously impressed.”
She wouldn’t be if she knew the real story behind our relationship.
“Okay,” Everly says, “one last question before I head to psych.”
I raise my brows.
“Does Kingsley have any hot friends?”
A snort escapes as my lips quirk into a smile. “Guess you’ll have to meet me for lunch and find out for yourself.”
With a grin, Everly points a finger at me as she walks backward to the classroom door. “Challenge accepted, I’ll be there.”
Chapter Five
With Kingsley’s arm slung around my shoulders, we head to the cafeteria. Our blazers have been shed and we’ve rolled up our long sleeves. Lunch is a less formal affair with scarcely any adult supervision. That used to scare the crap out of me.
Queen of Hawthorne Prep Page 3