by Jenna Scott
I side-eye him. “Are you going to behave?”
“Do you want me to behave?” he teases.
And that’s the whole problem.
I really don’t.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Camilla
After convincing Hunter I’m fine to pop into the kitchen on my own, I dry off and rewrap my sarong so I can go inside. By now, the others are out of the pool, lounging alongside the three succubi on their chairs. Meanwhile, Isabel and Matt are excitedly talking about their favorite indie movies. Seems like they really did bond after being in the spring formal committee together, and I wonder again if he’s the secret crush that she’s been so reluctant to talk about.
I head through the kitchen and into the familiar pantry. I grab two huge bags of chips, a jar of spinach dip and one of queso, and am just in the process of reaching for some cookies when a cold breeze tickles the back of my neck. I assume it’s just a draft, but when I turn to look, I realize it must have been evil that I sensed.
“Once the help, always the help,” Hillary says with a smirk, leaning against the pantry’s doorway. “All someone has to do is tell you to get something, and your maid instincts kick right in.”
“Actually, I offered,” I respond coldly.
Her grin widens. “Only further proving my point. The best help knows how to anticipate the needs of others. A-plus, Milla. You have a bright future ahead of you.”
The urge to open up this jar of queso dip and dump it straight down her boobs is strong, but I maintain my poise. Wouldn’t want to commit a major party foul when things are going so well.
“What do you want, Hillary?” I ask, trying to sound breezy and dismissive as I grab the Oreos off the top shelf.
She looks down at her nails like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. “You and Hunter seem so close nowadays. I just wonder what would happen if he found out who you really are.”
I do not like where this is headed one bit, but she has to be bluffing. “Hunter knows who I am.”
“So you’ve told him about your little stunt back in public school?” The sickest, most presumptuous of smiles plays on her lips.
My pulse kicks up about ten notches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? That’s odd. ‘Cause I’m friends with some people who go to La Jolla High…” Hillary comes closer to better look down on me. “And they told me some very interesting things about you and a certain William Harris.”
I freeze as unwelcome memories flash before my eyes.
Mr. Harris was my English teacher back at LJHS. I had straight As in his class, just like I had straight As in every other class. But Mr. Harris was young. He was handsome. And he was nice—too nice, and he made the fatal mistake of being nice to me. He expressed concern about my living situation, and offered to write a letter of recommendation for me to go to Stanford, where he was a Legacy.
It all came crashing down one evening when I’d stayed late after school with the newspaper club, and he offered me a ride home. Without thinking anything of it, I accepted. The late buses were always crowded with commuters, and he passed my apartment complex on his way home. It didn’t seem like a big deal. It was just a ride. That’s all it was.
I didn’t think much of it until the next day, when a picture of me in the passenger seat of his car started circulating. More things happened after that, and now they’re all coming back to me, sickening and terrifying. I have no choice but to push them back where they belong: into a deep corner of my memory where I don’t have to think about them ever again.
“Those were lies,” I say, and I’m telling the truth. Anything Hillary’s heard about my time in public school is a lie. A lie everyone believes, but still, a lie.
“Are they? Because from my experience, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Hillary narrows her eyes at me. “And you blow a lot of smoke out your ass.”
This conversation is not just making me uncomfortable; it’s making me sick. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you have no right—”
“I really don’t know how it’s possible that Hunter is so much more into you than anyone else,” Hillary scoffs, cutting me off. “But given your ‘experience,’ I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you roped him in. Trashy girls like you don’t have limits. I’m sure he’s only with you because you let him do whatever, whenever—”
“You know what’s really sad, Hillary? That you’re smart, and popular, and so pretty that you don’t even need to use all those filters on your Instagram…but instead of enjoying what you have and spending time with the people who want to be around you, you waste all your energy talking shit to me and obsessing over what you can’t have.”
Her eyes widen, and it seems I’ve actually rendered her speechless.
Breathlessly, I finish with, “Honestly, I feel sorry for you.”
I start to push past her, naively assuming that I’ve disarmed her once and for good, but she pushes me back against the shelves with her eyes narrowed. My arms are too full to fight back, so all I can do is lean as far away as possible from her as she says, “I wonder if you’ll be talking such a big game when I tell Hunter how you—”
“Milla?” Hunter calls from the kitchen, causing Hillary to trail off.
“In here,” I yell back, and the pantry door swings open.
Glancing back and forth between me and Hillary, Hunter’s brows lift. “What’s taking so long? You need some help?”
He inclines his head toward Hillary, wordlessly asking me if what I need help with is her. But I don’t want him to get involved in this argument. Not when my secrets hang in the balance.
“I, um…” I falter.
My heart pounds in my chest as I panic that she’s going to blurt something out about Mr. Harris, and that Hunter will believe her over me.
“Just girl talk,” Hillary says lightly with a wink and a smile, stepping away to approach him. Right in front of me, she has the nerve to take his arm. “Let’s go, Hunter. She has it under control.”
I let out a sharp exhale. I can’t believe she didn’t drop that bombshell right here and now. Especially considering that she still won’t say my name, yet has the gall to hit on him in front of me. What’s her deal?
And then it hits me. She knows I won’t stop her from flirting with Hunter as long as she’s got dirt on me. Maybe she even thinks she can lure him away for good.
My gaze goes to Hunter, and I worry he’ll ask what we were really talking about. I’m not ready to have that conversation with him—I don’t think I’ll ever be.
What if he believes the rumors?
Hunter brushes Hillary aside. “You go on. I’ll help Milla with the food.”
“Sure.” She smiles tightly. “See you outside.”
Turning on her heel, she swishes away.
Frowning, Hunter gathers up the snacks from my overburdened arms and brushes my hair behind my ear, murmuring, “I don’t know what she said to you, but I know it wasn’t good. And I’m sorry. She’s just being a bitch because she’s jealous.”
I make myself shrug, trying to put the ugly confrontation with Hillary out of my mind. “No big deal. At least I won’t have to put up with her that much longer.”
“She seriously needs to chill the fuck out.” Hunter lays all the food on the kitchen island and then comes back, gently pushing me into the pantry and closing the door behind us. I start to ask him what he’s doing, but he’s already got my jaw cradled in his hand, leaning down to kiss me.
In between the hot crush of our mouths, he whispers, “I want you.”
Heat pulses between my legs, and I have to squeeze my thighs together against the ache. His kisses make me feel instantly desperate for him. That’s the danger.
Forcing myself to pull back, I tell him, “Let’s just bring out the snacks and then you can tell them it’s time to leave in a bit, that your parents are on their way home.”
Sighing, Hunter nods. “Okay. Whatever y
ou say, boss.”
“Ha ha. Let’s go. I don’t want everyone thinking we’re in here doing what we almost did.”
As we pour the chips and dip into bowls and grab napkins, Hunter asks, “Hey, has Isabel said anything to you about Mason recently?”
“Matt?” I say quizzically. “Are you implying something? Is he, like, into her?”
He shrugs. “I honestly can’t tell. Mason’s not exactly the heart-to-heart type. But I have noticed them hanging around each other lately. I just figured, if she said anything to you about it, maybe I could mention it to him and…”
“You want to play matchmaker?” I tease, cracking a huge grin. “Look at you, trying to be all cupid-like.”
“I am definitely not cupid-like,” he says, pretending to be offended.
“Oh no?” I press, standing on my tippy toes to give him a quick kiss. “I’d disagree with that.”
“You think I’m like the god of love?” he says, pulling me close. “Or lust?”
“I think you’re something,” I murmur.
Shaking myself out of it, I tell him to grab the dips and cookies and we leave the kitchen, with the addition of a six pack of beer that Hunter grabbed out of the fridge. Outside, Isabel practically rips the potato chip bowl from my hands and digs in immediately, while Hunter sits down on a lounger and pulls me into his lap.
I don’t fight it—I just rest my head on his shoulder and hold on to his warmth. While I still can.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Camilla
When the sun starts setting, people start heading out. Isabel and Matt are the last ones to say goodbye, and since he got a ride over with Tom, she offers to drive him home. I figure she’ll probably drop by Emmett’s afterward, since he lives in the same neighborhood as the Masons.
The Becks aren’t on their way back from their beach and dinner date with Harrison yet, so once everyone is gone, Hunter and I have the house all to ourselves. After we clean up the empty bowls and beer cans and take them to the kitchen, he hugs me from behind, chin perched on my shoulder.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks, lips brushing my cheek as he speaks.
“It wasn’t,” I say, leaning back against him. “It’s nice to have some peace and quiet, though.”
“It is.” He turns me around and kisses me, arms tightening around me. “I was thinking we should take a quick shower. Rinse off the chlorine and all.”
“We?” I quirk a brow. “All right. No funny business in the shower, though.”
His lips brush my ear, and so help me God, I tremble. “Are you getting some naughty ideas, Milla?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” I feign ignorance as I look up at him.
“Oh, I think you do. And I can’t wait to find out what they are.”
My world flips as he sweeps me up and holds me in his arms, bridal style.
“You don’t have to carry me,” I protest weakly, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I want to,” he says, and heads upstairs.
Last time he carried me this way was after we were playing knights and dragons with Harrison. I’d been laughing then, as he hurried me out of the living room and into the pantry, where we proceeded to make out. Now, my heart’s thumping loudly in my chest as Hunter takes me up the stairs. But it’s not because of nerves—it’s anticipation.
He looks down at me after we climb the final step. His hair is still messy from the pool and I can’t resist brushing it with my fingers. In a few quick steps, Hunter walks into his bedroom and drops me on the bed.
“This isn’t the shower,” I tease.
“It can wait. It’d be counterproductive to take a shower and then immediately do something that’d make you sweat.” He crawls on top of me, lips against my neck, pressing me deeper into the mattress.
I let out a sigh of pleasure, but then immediately yelp at the cold wetness of his swimming trunks against the inside of my thighs. “We’re going to get the bed wet!”
He gives me a sly, lopsided smile. “Pretty sure it’s going to get soaked anyway.”
My cheeks burn. “You didn’t just say that.”
Hunter laughs gently. “I would have thought I’d fucked the embarrassment out of you by now.”
“Why do you have to say it out loud?”
“Which part? The bed getting soaked by your wet pussy or the fucking the embarrassment out of you?”
“Both!” I plan to slap his shoulder, but the curve is just so perfect, his muscles so defined, that I end up letting my hand stay, my thumb brushing the taut skin there.
“I do love making you squirm,” he admits. His lips move down my neck, and he slides his tongue along the hollow of my throat.
The butterflies in my stomach are in full frenzy, my lips parting and my eyes closing with every kiss he plants on me, my body aching so bad it’s downright painful. The fact that my bathing suit is still wet, and cold, and still on me, is driving me to madness. “You like torturing me, is what you like.”
“It’s payback for how much you torture me.” Hunter grinds against the apex of my thighs so I can feel how hard he is.
My reaction is immediate, and all over, with my legs hooking around his waist as sparks of heat radiate from my center. There’s knowing we came upstairs to be all over each other, and then there’s actually doing it. As fertile as my imagination might be, as vivid as the memories of our previous times together are, they never compare to what it’s like to be in the moment with Hunter.
All that touching in the pool started something, and now both of us are desperate to follow through. My hands go for his trunks, and I see his eyes go half-lidded when I grip him through the fabric. But trying to get my hand inside is literally impossible. It’s like his wet shorts are glued to his hips, and I can’t get my hand past the waistband.
“Having trouble?” Hunter says with a snicker.
“Why are they so stuck to you?” I complain.
Hunter holds himself up with one hand and tries to pull his trunks off with the other. Yet he isn’t having much better luck than I was, and a frustrated, futile hip swivel has him losing his balance and collapsing on top of me with a grunt.
We both start laughing hysterically.
“Not as easy as you thought,” I gloat. “Roll over.”
He complies, turning over onto his back, and I grip the waistband of his shorts in both fists and then peel them down with a lot of growling and effort, leaving his cock bobbing in the air and both of us giggling again. I climb up him and give his shaft a slow lick along the way, finally settling against Hunter’s chest with a contented sigh.
“Nice work,” he murmurs, tipping my chin up to plant a soft kiss on my lips.
Hunter bites my bottom lip, the hand he has on my lower back pushing me fully against him so I can feel his dick through the thin spandex of my bathing suit. I’m getting drenched at the promise of what’s to come, at the promise of everything Hunter does, before, and after, and during. and I let out a soft moan as we kiss.
His hands slide up my back and he brings his lips down to my neck, his teeth closing on my skin, sharp—not enough to hurt, but enough to draw a hiss out of me.
“Don’t give me hickeys where people can see!” I scold, but my annoyance is half-hearted at best.
“I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so delicious.” And then he does it again.
I should be mad, but goddammit I’m so turned on that I just push him gently away and dip my head down until my lips meet his throat.
“For each visible hickey you give me,” I say, dragging my tongue along the side of his neck, “I’ll pay you back in kind.”
I close my teeth on his skin, and suck. Gently at first, then harder, before I let go. Hunter stiffens, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head and tug at my hair.
I smile innocently at him. “It’s only fair.”
“Milla.” Hunter arches a brow. “You sure you want to play that game with me?”
&
nbsp; “What game?”
He grins. “The one where whatever I do to you, you do to me.”
“Why not?” I turn my head to the side so my lips brush his cheek. “It sounds like it could be fun.”
“Fine. But just remember: you asked for it.” Hunter lifts us to a sitting position, fingers going for the strings of my bikini. He attempts to untie the knot, then frowns when he can’t. “Might as well have a padlock here.”
“You learn pretty quickly how to double-knot a bathing suit tie when you’re a girl who doesn’t want to risk flashing everyone when you jump in the water.”
All his struggling actually succeeds in is tickling a spot on my upper back, and a helpless giggle bursts out of me. “That tickles!”
“Stay still!” he complains, but it’s impossible.
“Stop tickling me, and I will!”
“I’m not trying to tickle you,” he protests. “Be less ticklish!”
“I can’t!” I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and I can’t seem to take in enough air. I fall back into the bed, squirming and squealing breathlessly. “Stop, please!”
“But you’re so cute when you’re laughing.” I try to shuffle away from him, but he holds me firm in that sheer giggling torture. “Come on. Get it all out of you.”
“I give up, I give up, please.” I actually have tears rolling down my cheeks.
Mercifully, Hunter stops. Before he can reach for me again, I roll away, panting.
“Truce?” he asks.
“I mean…I’m supposed to do to you what you do to me, right?” I take the opening and grab at his ribcage. Hunter jerks away with a surprised gasp, and I waste zero time tackling him for some well-deserved payback.
His helpless laughter fills the room, and I laugh along with him. I’m not a sadistic monster like he is, so I stop when he’s wheezing. Leaning forward, I plant my hands on either side of his head and say, “You’re cute when you laugh too.”
We start kissing again, and Hunter gives up with the knotted tie on my top, pulling it over my head instead.