This Boy

by Jenna Scott

  Hunter’s friends are looking over now, spectators of their favorite soap opera. Meanwhile, Hillary’s holding on to her friend’s arm, the two of them furiously trading whispers and scowling our way.

  “Milla! Emmett!”

  We all turn our heads to see Isabel practically skipping toward us, a huge smile on her face. There’s no doubt in my mind that she took one look at the body language over here and decided it was her job to intervene. Bless her.

  “Sorry I’m late. Ms. Kragen is a beast,” Isabel says brightly, plopping onto the bench across from us. “Guess that’s why they call her ‘Ms, Kraken.’ Hey, Hunter!”

  “Hey,” he says, but I notice he looks more at ease now that Isabel is here, and he’s backed off a few steps.

  “Did you get me my…” Isabel’s voice trails off into a squeal of delight as she lifts the napkin off her food and finds two seitan tacos and two lime wedges, her go-to.

  At his sides, I see Hunter’s hands clench into fists. “Finish your lunch. I’m driving you back to school.”

  An incredulous laugh bursts out of me. “Excuse me?”

  “Milla,” he says. Just that, just my nickname. Then he walks off.

  “What’s his deal?” Emmett asks. “Does he think he owns you or something?”

  “You’re not going anywhere with him,” Isabel says. Getting a look at my face, which I can only imagine is bright red, she adds, “Unless…you want to?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  My chest is tight, and it’s not the only thing about me that’s tightening right now. I’m remembering all the good parts from last night and wondering if he’s ready to talk about it. Or do those things again.

  I should say no. And yet… I’m intrigued.

  “As stupid as this sounds, I’m going,” I tell my friends, taking one last bite of taco and slurping the rest of my iced tea. “Because I want to. Not because he said so.”

  Emmett and Isabel look at me, and I can tell they’re about to argue.

  I grab my backpack before they can say anything else.

  “Text you guys later,” I say, forcing a smile, even though I feel super lame for ditching them to chase after Hunter.

  The thing is, he and I are way overdue for a talk because I need some answers. And I can’t help thinking this could be my chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Camilla

  I’ve ridden in cars my whole life, and it’s never been anything special. But when a boy who makes your heart race is driving you around and you’re in the passenger seat just inches away, feeling the electricity humming between you and him, his hand on the gearshift so close that his fingers could brush your bare knee at any moment…that’s something completely different. My whole body is tingling.

  And despite the tension between us right now, I can’t help daydreaming about us speeding past Oak Academy and hitting the open road, heading for some other secret place Hunter has up his sleeve so we can have more adventures like we did last night.

  Unfortunately, it’s the middle of a school day, so I’m pretty sure the only adventures we’re likely to have are the rest of our scheduled classes.

  Once we’ve turned out of the parking lot at the park, I work up my nerve and finally say, “You have to stop doing this.”

  He keeps his eyes on the road. “Doing what?”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, experiencing a flash of annoyance. “This is the second time I’ve been having fun with my friends and you’ve felt the need to interrupt us and drag me away. I’m obviously not drunk today, so what’s your excuse?”

  “Excuse?” He cracks a smile, but it’s not a happy one. “You know, you should be thanking me. One of these days, I won’t be around to bail you out.”

  I blink, even more annoyed now. “Bail me out of what? Lunch with friends?”

  Shooting me the side-eye, he says, “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

  “What did it look like then? Like I was in peril? A damsel in distress? Or maybe you were valiantly rescuing me from my spicy chicken tacos?”

  Hunter changes lanes, and I cross my arms, irritated, still waiting for a response.

  “I’m just saying, the lady doth protest too much,” he says.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s Shakespeare.”

  “I know it’s Shakespeare, and I know what the quote means. But what do you mean?”

  “You keep saying the word friends,” he scoffs as he pulls into the line of cars waiting to turn into the school parking lot. “But all I saw was you and Ortega cuddled up close. Alone. I told you, Milla, that guy is angling for an in with you.”

  “News flash, Hunter: he’s already got one! As my friend. I’m not explaining it again, and you have a lot of nerve even acting like you care when it’s obvious you have no interest in—” I stop myself before I say something embarrassing about Hunter not being interested in me, or dating me, or seeing me as anything other than a no-strings-attached hookup whenever he has no other options at his disposal.

  “Interest in what?”

  I turn my head and look out the window. “Nothing.”

  “Come on, say it,” he goads me. “What am I not interested in?”

  He’s trying to humiliate me, I know it. But I won’t make myself vulnerable in front of him just for his personal amusement.

  “You’re acting really self-righteous right now, and it’s ridiculous,” I say, my voice dropping lower with anger. “Why are you pushing so hard, anyway? It’s none of your business who I choose to spend my time with or what I decide to do with them.”

  Hunter’s fingers open and close on the steering wheel. His broad chest expands with a deep breath. “So then what, are you dating him?”

  A laugh spills from my mouth at how ridiculous that is. “Of course not! What, are you jealous?”

  It’s finally our turn to pull into the lot, and Hunter drives straight to the far corner where there are still plenty of spots left in the shade. Then he just sits there, silently stewing, the soft whoosh of the AC the only sound in the car.

  “Say something,” I say quietly. “Anything.”

  But he won’t even look at me. Instead, he just stares silently out the windshield, and I find that I’m all out of patience.

  With a frustrated sigh, I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab the door handle, ready to get the hell out of this car and away from Mr. Enigma. But as soon as I open the door, there’s the click of another seatbelt, and suddenly Hunter’s leaning over me, pulling my door closed and then dragging my face to his for a kiss.

  I don’t even have to think about it. I’m already kissing him back, open-mouthed, hungrily, frantically. There’s no point in lying; I’ve been waiting for this moment since we separated at my door last night. I love the way Hunter’s tongue is dominating mine, like he’s channeling all his pent-up emotions into making out with me as hard and fast as he can, at once blanking out my thoughts.

  And this. This right here is exactly the problem.

  Being on the receiving end of his attention has a way of making the rest of the world slip away so that nothing else gets through to me and nothing else matters. I can’t let this keep happening.

  We come apart with a breath, and I turn my head to the side. “Hunter, wait.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This,” I say, gesturing in the small space that still exists between us. “You never talk to me. You just kiss me.”

  “And you kiss me back,” he says. “That’s the way it works.”

  He starts to lean forward, but I place a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “Hunter, seriously.”

  “I am serious.”

  His eyes are intense on mine, and it’s obvious I’m getting nowhere.

  “Let’s just get to class,” I say, giving up.

  I don’t have the willpower to keep pushing him away, and it seems better to cut my losses and forget about getting any real answers right now.
>
  Glancing at the dashboard, he says, “But we still have twenty minutes.”

  There’s a massive battle going on between my libido and my logical brain, resulting in a complete inability to force myself out of the car. My body’s strung tight, not with anxiety, but anticipation.

  “Twenty minutes for what?” I say, my mouth already watering.

  Hunger dark in his eyes, he says, “For you to live in this moment with me.”

  And then he attacks me with his mouth again. Hard, demanding. This time I kiss him back just as hard. He bites my lower lip, and I let out a soft moan.

  I should get out, I should say no, but I can’t pretend I’m not addicted to how good he feels against me.

  So I don’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Camilla

  It’s impossible to keep track of time when we’re making out, which is why I don’t crack any jokes watching Hunter set an actual alarm on his phone. As soon as he sets it down on the dash, I clamber over to his side of the car, yelping when my knee knocks into the gearshift.

  His hands come up to help me straddle him, and then I’m in his lap, my mouth on his, immediately forgetting the pain still radiating from my patella.

  Eyes closed, I feel the hot weight of his palms on my hips, sliding down the back of my skirt to grip my ass and pull me closer, so I’m right on top of the bulge in his pants. I like this. His hands on me, so confident, so dominant. The faint scent of his cologne, the firm expanse of his chest through the crisp cotton of his shirt under my fingers. His lips, his tongue. The sound of us breathing, his quiet groans. All of this.

  Slowly, Hunter begins to tug my shirt free of my skirt’s waistband. When I don’t stop him, he slides his hand underneath, directly onto my bare skin. His thumb brushes my ribcage, the small caress stealing my breath right before he steals my lips again.

  Hunter pulls away. We lock eyes, just taking each other in, and then he starts undoing the buttons of my shirt. He moves slowly, popping them open one by one, once again giving me a chance to say no. Except that I know I want this, him touching me everywhere, so I just lean back and let him undress me, watching his eyes drop when he loosens my tie and pulls open my shirt to expose my plain white bra.

  I don’t even have time to be embarrassed at how basic my underwear is before he’s moaning softly, tugging me toward him, pushing the soft cups up over my breasts and wrapping his hot, wet mouth around my nipples, first one and then the other, sucking and biting and making me lose my mind.

  My eyes are shut tight again, and all I can do is whimper “Oh my God” over and over again. This is all new territory for me, and I’m panting for air, my heart ready to beat out of my chest.

  “You are driving me absolutely. Fucking. Crazy,” Hunter murmurs in between sucks, finally kissing the space between my breasts and then nuzzling the side of my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure down my spine. “Is it too hot for you? You’re sweating.”

  I nod, suddenly realizing how tingly and achy my pussy is, wondering if he can feel my wetness through the fabric of his pants. The memory of his fingers inside me is weeks old but still fresh. I want him to do it again.

  “Well, then…” Hunter slides my blazer down my shoulders, taking my shirt along with it. My arms are pinned at my sides, and my breasts are thrust out at him, my nipples hard and glistening with his saliva. His cheeks are flushed pink, and I wonder if he’s as turned on as I am. My tie still hangs loosely around my neck, and Hunter grabs it and pulls me close for another kiss.

  There’s no doubt about it now—his dick feels like a rock between my legs, pushing against me through my tights.

  “Mm-hmm,” I moan.

  He tweaks my nipples with his fingers, rolling and squeezing as his tongue strokes aggressively against mine. The ache between my legs grows, and before I know it, I’m leaning harder against him, spreading my knees farther apart, seeking more stimulation.

  I could almost come right now, I’m sure of it. My hands are on his shoulders, holding tight. I start to grind on his lap, soft and slow at first, then faster. I want him so bad I’m dizzy.

  One thing about the academy’s uniform pants: they do not restrain hard-ons the way jeans do.

  “Jesus, Milla,” he moans, hips thrusting upward to meet my movement.

  His hands drop down to slide up the back of my thighs, squeezing as he rocks beneath me. The black tights I’m wearing are so thin, it’s almost like he’s touching me directly. I should put a stop to this and not overindulge, but I can’t help myself. That electric, twisting sensation is happening, and I remember his fingers on me again, how I went home and made myself come while thinking of him.

  He’s practically fucking my mouth with his tongue now, and my nipples are crushed against his shirt, tingling against the cotton. It’s not just me who’s disheveled and panting—Hunter is too, and I realize he’s as desperate for this as I am.

  I like that I have the power to do this to him. That he wants me too.

  With an expert movement, he reaches around the seat, and suddenly we’re reclining until we’re horizontal. It’s the kind of smoothness that can only come from doing this a lot, and the more I let myself think about it, the harder it is to ignore. I wonder why he’s doing this with me when he could have anyone else. Girls with more experience. Girls who’d give him anything he wanted, without asking questions.

  Then his hand slips down the back of my underwear, palming my bare ass cheeks before moving lower, until his thick middle finger is penetrating me from behind. I gasp in his mouth and then start rocking back and forth so the tip of his finger is slipping in and out of me, exactly as deep as I want it. I can feel myself getting even wetter, plummeting toward the edge. Never in my life have I ever dreamed I’d be doing something like this with Hunter Beck.

  But why am I letting him when I still haven’t gotten any answers? Why do I get so stupid with just a kiss, and then we go further and I get stupider still? Is any of this even real?

  I feel Hunter start to peel my tights down, my underwear rolling along with them, and that’s when I snap out of it. I pull back with a jolt, panting hard. “Stop.”

  His hands go up immediately, as if a cop told him to freeze.

  “What’d I do wrong?” he says. “Tell me, and I won’t do it again.”

  “It’s not that. I just…” I pause, shaking my head. “We can’t keep doing this without ever having real conversations. It doesn’t work.”

  I tug my bra back down and climb back into the passenger seat, buttoning up my shirt and checking the clock as I tuck it in. We have less than three minutes left.

  “Come on, Milla. We don’t have to talk,” he whispers, and everything about him is so hot—his mouth, his hands, his body—that when he leans over and kisses me again, I almost let myself forget what’s bothering me.

  Almost.

  But I manage to (regretfully) push him back. “I need to know what I am to you.”

  Hunter’s brows knit together. “What does that mean?”

  “It means… I don’t know. Are we something special? Are you going to walk me to class and sit with me at lunch? I don’t understand what this is.”

  He straightens his seat back up, avoiding my gaze now. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I want to know what to expect. And how to act.”

  Hunter sighs. “You don’t have to act. Let’s just take it day by day. Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is.”

  Ah. Of course. He’s back in selfish jerk mode. How could I possibly think it would be otherwise?

  I can’t believe I let him play me like this. Again.

  “Okay. Here’s the day-to-day: I’m leaving right now,” I say as I grab my backpack and open the door.

  “Milla—”

  I get out and then whip around. “Don’t. I’m not like you, Hunter. I don’t just stick it in anything that walks and then move on to someone new the next day.”

  “That’s not what this is,”
he says.

  “Then what is it? Is this a long-term thing? What happens when we go to college next year? I’m not just going to follow you around wherever you go.”

  His hands go over his face, and his shoulders shake, and then I realize with a flash of rage that he’s actually laughing at me.

  “What the hell is so funny?” I spit.

  He shakes his head, still smiling. “Look, it’s just… What’s wrong with living in the moment? You’re trying to plan our whole lives here, when all I want to do is make out with you in a car.”

  “Well, you aren’t making out with me anymore. So glad you’re amused.”

  With that, I slam the car door as hard as I can and stalk back toward school just in time to hear the bell signaling the end of lunch period.

  Hunter doesn’t follow.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Camilla

  I may not have a lot of experience with boyfriends, but I do have experience being disappointed by people. Mainly my mom. So you’d think, after all these years, I’d be an expert at just rolling with letdowns. But apparently not.

  The entire rest of the school day I’m in a bad mood, and then the bus ride is straight out of hell. All I can think about is Hunter, alternating between being intensely horny and intensely pissed off. It’s a good thing he doesn’t come home after school because I’m not sure I’d be able to keep calm and carry on during my shift with Harrison if his older brother walked through the door trying to act like nothing had happened with us in the car earlier.

  Mom’s not around when I retreat to the pool house around dinnertime, face-planting on the couch with sheer physical and emotional exhaustion. She still kept one of her other part-time housekeeping clients despite now being full-time with the Becks, so she’s probably out for the rest of the evening. Which is good for me.