This Hurt (This Boy Book 2)

by Jenna Scott

  He lets out a victorious “Ha!” and throws it into a corner of the room.

  His eyes fall to my naked chest, and a sly smile stretches his lips. “Are you cold, Milla?” Palming my breast, his thumb brushes an already hard nipple—which happens to be overly sensitive from the wet bathing suit.

  I bite into my lip while my toes curl, and my back arches as I hum my pleasure.

  “Can’t have you catching hypothermia,” he murmurs, leaning forward to curl his tongue around my left nipple.

  A harsh moan escapes me, and heat coils in my belly. My pussy is aching with each lick and squeeze and suck. Hunter changes sides, and I bury my fingers in his hair, bringing his head closer for a second before pulling him off. His eyes are dark, pupils wide, and the way he looks at me is downright hungry.

  His hand comes between my legs to stroke me through the bikini bottoms. I gasp into our kiss, and he uses the opening to gently bite my upper lip.

  “It seems impolite to leave you with clothes on when you’re already so wet,” he tells me. My pulse kicks up another notch when he slips his fingers inside my bikini bottoms, and his tongue slides faster against mine, even stronger and more demanding. I close my eyes and sigh as he touches me, tracing my own wetness around my opening.

  “I want you,” I murmur dreamily.

  “I love you,” he says in return.

  My eyelids fly open. “What?”

  Pressing his forehead to mine, he gazes into my eyes. We’re so close that all I see is an ocean of blue as his breath brushes my lips. Under my hand, I can feel his heart thrumming fast. Just like mine. And when I reach up to trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the chiseled shape of his cheekbones, he leans into my touch.

  “I said I love you,” he repeats, as if it’s a simple thing.

  My chest goes tight, my heartbeat racing even more at his words. This moment. These feelings between us. This spiraling warmth, threatening to burst out of me.

  I can’t believe it’s all real.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Camilla

  Wednesday after Debate, Hunter walks me to my locker—ever since he said those three little words out loud, he’s been walking me everywhere. He even joins me and Isabel when we’re together on breaks, and their interactions aren’t a complete catastrophe. I wish I could say the same about when I’m with Emmett, but…baby steps.

  “Are you free later?” Hunter asks while I’m changing out my books.

  This surprises me. “You know I’m babysitting until 7:30, as usual. What’s up?”

  “Well, believe it or not, Harry told me he wants to get you a welcome-back present.”

  My heart melts. What a little sweetheart. “That’s really cute. But I don’t need any presents. I’m happy enough getting to spend time with him again.”

  Hunter crosses his arms over his chest. “Milla, please. Imagine how disappointed he’ll be if he has no gift to give you. I told him I’d help him out.”

  “You don’t have to buy me things,” I say defensively. The conversation I had with Hillary keeps gnawing at me, and I feel guilty accepting gifts from Hunter.

  “Excuse you, but we’re talking about Harry getting you something. And judging by your reaction last time, I suspect you might appreciate some books.”

  I roll my eyes at him and close the locker. This boy knows all my weak spots. “Fine then. Harrison can get me a book.”

  After my babysitting shift is over that evening, Hunter corners me before I can head out the back door to the pool house.

  “Ready to go on that book hunt?” he asks, eyes alight.

  I frown. “It’s homework time.”

  “It’s always homework time,” Hunter points out.

  “That’s because it’s been piling up—no thanks to you.” I throw him a pretend-judgmental look. “And you should be doing your homework, too, instead of trying to keep me from mine.”

  “You could just say no,” he points out.

  I scoff. “You know I can’t say no when you beg. Plus, it’s books. Let’s go.”

  “Aw, Milla.” Hunter’s voice drops as his hand sneaks around my waist to bring me to him. “Do I fuck with your willpower that badly?”

  What a question. “You fuck with all of me, Hunter.”

  “Good. ‘Cause you fuck with all of me, too. We’ll be quick, I promise.” He whisks me out the door and when we reach his car, he pushes me against the door so I’m sandwiched between him and the BMW’s steel body, literally between a hard place and an even harder place.

  He kisses me, and I wrap my hands around his neck as I return the kiss. When we pull away, we’re both breathing hard, and Hunter palms my cheek, bringing his forehead to rest against mine.

  “I’d prefer we not engage in PDA in the driveway,” I tell him gently. “Especially when we both know I can’t help myself.”

  “Noted,” he says with a nod. “So, where to?”

  Instantly, I know where I want to go. Fortune Books. It’s half past seven, and unless something’s drastically changed, it’s prime time for the store to be empty of La Jolla High students. Normally I wouldn’t chance it, but I really miss going there. The place was my sanctuary.

  It was my go-to spot after school, before my life at LJHS turned into a disaster. I went there so often the owners knew me by name, and never complained about me reading for hours in a chair and rarely buying anything but cups of tea from the café.

  I tell him how to get to Fortune, and we get in the car. We’re there in less than fifteen minutes, and when we go in, the smell of the café’s fresh ground coffee fills the air, and the familiar, overly packed stacks look like they’re saying welcome back.

  “Ahh,” I sigh, breathing in the scent. “I love it here.”

  Hunter’s watching me, his smile matching mine. “I can tell. You’re an open book.”

  “Nice dad joke,” I quip.

  “Thank you,” he says, taking my hand.

  “Milla!” Sophie, one of the employees, smiles from behind the counter as she sees me. She’s been working here since her freshman year at UC San Diego, almost three years. “It’s been so long, I thought you’d moved away! How’ve you been?”

  I grin at her. “Good. I’m at Oak Academy now, so it’s harder to stop by. But I really missed coming here, so…”

  “And you brought a friend!” Sophie puts down the book she was reading, her curious eyes flitting between Hunter and me.

  “Hunter,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder while extending his hand to shake hers. It’s a subtle indication that we’re together, without him actually saying the word boyfriend, since he knows the label would ruffle my feathers.

  Sophie’s eyebrows arch for a second as if to say daaamn, girl. Understandable.

  Suddenly very self-conscious, I clear my throat before I ask, “Is the YA section still in the same place, or has Madame Fortune been reorganizing again?”

  She grins. “Same place—though I expect not for long. Laura’s been talking about moving it upstairs. Want some tea while you browse?”

  “Yes please!”

  Sophie winks. “Dash of milk, two sugars?”

  Aw, she remembers. “Yup.”

  She turns to Hunter. “And you? Tea, coffee, water?”

  “A black coffee would be great,” he says. “Thanks.”

  Our drinks are done in no time, and once Sophie hands them to us, I take Hunter by the hand to the YA section. So many new books are displayed on the shelves, and I nearly squeal when I see King of Scars and Legendborn. Then there’s also the third book from the Ember in the Ashes series and ugh, why can’t I take them all home?

  As we browse, Hunter sticks close to me. “Does everybody who works here know you?”

  “Yeah.” I slide the book back on the shelf. “I used to live here, practically.”

  “Why ‘used to’? I mean, you clearly love it here.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “Must be heaven for a book nerd like you.”

>   My throat tightens, and my brain racks up a list of excuses. But I can’t bring myself to lie to Hunter outright—and I have to tell him, I know I have to tell him before Hillary fills his head with lies, but when I think about it, I panic.

  “It’s too close to my former school,” I explain. “And as with the Academy, I wasn’t the most popular person there.”

  I want to tell him why, to explain the truth to him myself, but the words get stuck in the back of my throat.

  “You have every right to be here,” Hunter says, hovering closer so I can feel his warmth at my back. “Remember that. And forget everybody else. Who gives a damn what they think?”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re like, a walking repository of self-confidence.”

  “And you have no reason not to be, either.” Hunter pulls out the book I just returned to the shelf. “Is this the one you want?”

  “Hunter,” I say, suddenly very serious. “A girl never wants just one book.”

  “Well, then…a girl should pick out several, and then go somewhere else so I can choose which ones her favorite six-year-old should give her.”

  I do as he says, then head to the front. Sophie isn’t at the counter so I meander through the Bestseller Section. I’m standing there, checking out a Nora Roberts novel, when the front door swings open behind me. At the sound of familiar giggling, I freeze. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, nausea churning in my stomach.

  Turning slowly toward the door, I find my worst nightmare: Melanie, Tasha, and Nikki. They were in several of my classes back at La Jolla High, and probably the top three worst out of the many people who made my life there miserable.

  “Oooh. Looks like the teacher’s little slut came back,” Nikki says with a smile that drips poison.

  “And to a bookstore!” Melanie sneers at me. “I wasn’t aware girls who screw their way to the honor roll even bothered reading.”

  Ignore them, Camilla. Just put the book back and walk away. That’s what I’m telling myself, and that’s what I do, but La Jolla High was my warzone, and like a veteran, I get flashbacks from it. They follow me around like ghosts, and even with my back to them, it’s hard to keep my head up while they throw the same old insults at me.

  “There she goes, running away,” Tasha mocks, their footsteps trailing mine.

  Clenching my jaw, I make myself turn around and say, “What do you want?”

  Nikki smiles sweetly. “For you to disappear, shitbag.”

  I want to say something to make them leave me alone, but I don’t have the words. There’s something extra cruel about how pretty and put together they all look, compared to me in my rumpled uniform and unruly hair. Next to them, even in my school clothes, I’m sure I do look like trash. And what’s worse is that I feel like trash.

  It’s a feeling I’ve never been able to shake when I’m around my peers. That I’m not good enough, that I’ll never be good enough. That my inferiority is like a visible shroud I wear, and that everyone who looks at me can tell exactly where I came from and what my dumpster fire of a home life is like. Compared to them, I’m nothing.

  On top of that, Hunter could pop up at any moment. The last thing I want is for him to see me getting bullied by these girls, and God forbid they say anything to him about my past. It’s bad enough I have Hillary dangling the threat of blackmail over me.

  Fuck. My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I bite my lip hard. But even as I back away, they don’t let up.

  “I hear you’re going to the Academy now,” Melanie says. “That’s a big leap. Who’d you blow to get a spot there? And who are you fucking to pay your tuition?”

  Memories of public school flood me all at once—the insults, the aggressions, the bullying. I’m completely frozen.

  “All paid,” Hunter’s voice says behind me. “Ready to go?”

  Oh no.

  No, no, no, no.

  I look over at him the same time my antagonists do, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the huge bag in his hand and his OA uniform.

  “Ooh, looks like she’s moved on from Mr. Harris and is using her body to get a lot more than straight As now,” Melanie says with a feral grin. “I’d say she’s moving up, but we all know sluts never get off their backs. Just like her mom.”

  My body does a full cringe, and my hands shake.

  The way Hunter eyes them up and down is slow and calculated and full of ice. “I don’t know who you all think you are, but if I were you, I’d turn around and leave. Because that sign on the front door? It says No Dogs Allowed.”

  To my intense pleasure, Melanie’s jaw drops, but the stab of Hunter’s barb doesn’t last long.

  “You’re not very smart, are you, Academy boy?” Nikki hisses, stepping closer to Hunter. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be with her. Or maybe you’re just happy she’s putting all her practice to good use.”

  “Yeah,” Tasha snorts. “I bet she lets him do anything he wants.”

  Hunter takes a step forward. “Are any of you familiar with what a private investigator can do? Because if you keep talking, I will be more than happy to set one on you. And they will go through your self-absorbed, basic-ass social media accounts and all your parents’ taxes, private records, and campaign contributions until they find something incendiary enough to tear your petty, pathetic lives to the ground. That is a promise.”

  The girls are as still and speechless as I was. I know they won’t stay that way.

  “Hunter.” I place my hand on his arm, drawing his gaze to me. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go home.”

  There’s concern in his eyes as he looks at me. “You sure?”

  I nod, and we walk out of the store with their derisive comments starting back up in hushed whispers behind us.

  As soon as we get outside, Hunter stops. “Milla—”

  He’s going to ask me what that was all about, and I can’t have this conversation, not here, not now. I cut him off, pleading, “Get me home first. Please.”

  Hunter’s lips flatten into a thin line. His blue eyes linger on my face, and I can’t take the weight of them, the worry in them. But it’s when he places a hand on my shoulder and says, “Okay” that I feel myself breaking.

  In the car, I swallow the lump in my throat. The past always has a way of catching up, no matter how far you go, or how hard you try to hide it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hunter

  I haven’t known Camilla for her whole life or anything, but I’ve known her long enough—and well enough—to be fully aware that whatever just happened with those bullies back at the bookstore has her shaken to the core. Literally, she was shaking.

  Sure, I’ve seen her cower around Hillary and the others, though more often than not she stands up for herself or dishes the trash talk right back. But this time? It was like Milla just shrank into herself. Like she wanted the floor to open up and eat her alive.

  Something is very, very wrong.

  I don’t like it one bit.

  Whatever those bitches have over her must be really bad. There’s nothing that could make me love Milla any less, but she’s obviously afraid of this thing. Which is why it’s time for her to come clean. Maybe then she can lay her demons to rest.

  When we get back to the house, Milla’s somber, her eyes down. She hasn’t said a word since we got in the car, hasn’t done anything other than hold her bag to her chest like it’s armor. I turn the car off and look over at her, keeping my voice gentle as I ask, “At the book store. What was that all about?”

  Milla stiffens. Her jaw is locked, and she’s not meeting my gaze.

  “Let’s just go inside,” she whispers.

  My adrenaline rushes. I can’t imagine what could possibly be so terrible that she’s this scared to speak of it, but I’m starting to fear whatever she’s about to say.

  Blood thrums in my ears as we go up to my room. When we get there, she sits at the foot of the bed, and I take a seat next to her. But she doesn’t say anything,
and then her shoulders start to shake as silent tears roll down her cheeks.

  “Milla.” I move off the bed and stand in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders and drawing her head against my chest. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  She looks up at me finally, eyes wet. “Other people have said the same thing and still ended up believing all the lies.”

  I reach out to brush a tear from her cheek. “There are terrible rumors about me, too. Do you believe them?” I give her a smile as I say this, hoping it’ll ease the anxiety that’s eating her up. It works, mildly.

  “Some of them,” she says, trying to smile back.

  Dropping to my knees on the carpet so my head is level with her lap, I look up and take her hands. “Please. Just talk to me,” I say.

  “I’m sorry.” Milla pulls her hands away and cups my face. “I know I have to tell you, and you deserve to know. It’s just…I’m scared you won’t believe me.”

  Turning my head left and then right, I kiss each of her palms where they cradle my cheeks. “I’ll believe you. I promise.”

  She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before she begins. “So. I, umm. I never fit in at my old school,” she says, her voice small and hesitant. “And as you know, my mom has a…a reputation. And it passed down to me. The typical, your mom is a dirt poor cleaning lady who gets drunks every day and sleeps around, so you must be a slut too. And the other kids, they…” She closes her eyes, and a few fresh tears fall. “They spread a rumor. That I was sleeping with my English teacher, to get straight As. It wasn’t true, but everyone acted like it was.”

  I squeeze her hands and then release them so she can wipe her eyes.

  “That’s your big, dark secret?” I shake my head, perplexed. “Who’d even believe that? And why would they make that shit up in the first place?”

  “Because poor girls with slutty mothers aren’t supposed to do well at school,” she hisses, her words coming out robotically as if she’s said this—no, heard it—a million times. There’s a current of anger underneath her voice.