3 Book High School Romance Bundle: A Kiss at Midnight & Prom King & Under My Skin

by Zara Rivas

  "You've had sex with a gay guy," Xavier said, still sounding amazed. "Give me tips, how could I sleep with a lesbian chick?"

  "Not your turn," Sloane said, and this time it was her turn to give the grin. "Now, let's see…who did you lose your virginity to?"

  "No repeats," Xavier scolded. "Oh well. This girl named Jada Fischer, at boarding school."

  "What was she like?"

  "She was a real bitch. One of the gorgeous types, but she wasn't like you—she had a real attitude problem."

  "So do I," Sloane cut in.

  "Not really. Not like her. She thought she owned the world and it showed." Xavier rolled over to settle on his side, resting his head on his hand, elbow on the bedspread.

  "So what happened?"

  He shrugged. "She went after me, I let her, slept with her, and that was that. No relationship or anything."

  "And she was okay with that?" Sloane ran a hand through her hair, idly pulling at one of the blue-dyed strands. Xavier's eyes followed her hands, and he smiled at the small frown on her face when she saw that the blue was fading.

  "She hated me for it. She couldn't comprehend why someone wouldn't want to be in a relationship with her."

  "Ego check," Sloane laughed. "She sounds like a real winner."

  "Oh yeah, she was," he said sarcastically. "Next question…what was your favorite part about the New Year's Eve party?"

  Xavier watched her closely, and Sloane went still again. Thunder boomed around the house and she jumped, but kept her eyes trained on his. A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she leaned in close to him.

  "You want to know what my favorite part was?" she asked. She reached out with one hand and gently twined her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back slightly and leaving her hand in it. Xavier said nothing, still watching, and Sloane moved closer.

  "This," she whispered, and pressed her lips to his.

  oOoOo

  "So then we play twenty questions, right?" I said to Avery, pacing around her room quickly, "And he keeps asking all these personal questions and everything, and I even told him about Tyler. You and Christian are the only ones who knew about that one besides Tyler himself and my brothers!"

  "He really does get under your skin," Avery said, in awe. She smirked at me and jerked me down onto the couch in her room, forcing me to be still.

  "Oh, it gets worse," I warned her, and she motioned for me to continue.

  "So then we bounce back and forth between a few more questions, and then he asks me what my favorite part about that party on New Year's was." I gesticulated wildly and then let out an irritated huff.

  Avery squealed, bowling me over with a hug. "You told him, right? You told him it was the kiss?"

  "Yeah, though God knows why," I muttered. "And then, of course, I did something much dumber."

  "You kissed him!" Avery finished, clapping her hands.

  "I swear, you're like a second grader with all the enthusiasm brought on by a bucket of candy." I sighed. "And yes, I kissed him."

  "Well?"

  "It was good." A rueful smile stole control of my lips. "It was really good."

  Sinclair froze for a second and then kissed me back, gently running his hand up my arm like he did that day he pushed me against the bookshelf. His hands stopped when they reached my neck, and he pulled me closer. This was different from before; there was no sense of urgency and neither of us pulled away.

  He trailed his hands back down and grasped my wrists with his hands, encircling them completely and pulling me onto his lap. I stopped breathing for a second, heart jumping uncomfortably. Sinclair's eyes darkened, and he shifted his legs so I had to lean forward to not fall off his lap; I shifted my weight, adjusting myself so that one of my legs rested on either side of his. He released my hands, only for his fingers to find the small sliver of skin my shirt exposed before my pants began. His fingertips grazed against me and left a slow burn in their wake. I bent my head down and moved closer to him, letting my lips brush the top of his ear.

  "What game are you playing now, hmm?" I whispered, and his grip on my hips tightened almost convulsively.

  "The kind where everybody wins," he murmured back, now tracing circles on my skin. He turned his head and caught my earlobe between his teeth, scraping gently, and my breathing hitched.

  "That kind of game, huh?" I rasped, fingers reaching to his sides for some sort of anchor. He made a noise of disapproval and flinched away from the sudden touch, and I pulled back from him, grinning like a maniac.

  "Oh no, Sinclair, don't tell me you're ticklish?" I lightly pinched his side and he flinched again, chagrin crossing his face. My grin only grew. My fingers danced along the hem of his shirt and pulled it up just enough so I could slip my hand in. His skin was warm, delightfully so, and I happily pinched him again. Looking aggravated, he snatched my hand and pushed it away, suddenly standing up and gripping me again by the hips. He turned a little and dumped me unceremoniously on the bed, quickly following and resting his weight on me.

  "Now it's just a dangerous game," he said, eyes flashing. Sinclair ducked his head and placed an open-mouthed kiss on my neck, hot and fast. I made a muted noise of protest, pushing at him again, but he took no notice. I let my hands wander up and down his sides, finally getting the grip I wanted, and tickled him again. He froze up and I took the opportunity to buck upwards a little, startling him enough to give up his ground. I rolled us over and straddled him, triumphant.

  "You're just having too much fun, aren't you?" I smiled wickedly. "Maybe you need to be taught a lesson."

  "You can teach me anytime," he quipped. I almost snorted at that.

  "I'm sure I can," I said, lowering myself so my mouth was inches away from his. I stopped moving and he narrowed his eyes. He probably saw the laughter in my own, because he reached up and slid a hand behind my neck, pulling me closer.

  "Don't be so impatient, love," I whispered, and pressed my lips to his.

  Sinclair immediately kissed me back, winding his fingers through my hair. I made a noise of approval when he deepened the kiss, lightly running his tongue along my bottom lip in a request for permission. I opened my mouth and he quickly took advantage of it.

  I didn't realize how much we'd shifted positions until I heard a loud knock at the door. I ignored it, but Sinclair froze and pulled away. We'd half turned so we were lying side-by-side on his bed, one of his hands in my hair and the other under my shirt on my waist. My own hands were busy running themselves up his back, and my leg was hooked over his hip.

  "Yeah?" Sinclair called out, the aggravation in his voice plain and clear.

  "Dominic is here," someone I assumed to be Xavier's sister called through the door. "He says he can give Sloane a ride home if she doesn't want to get soaked on your motorcycle."

  "Ugh, the washing machine," I half-groaned, half-grinned at him.

  "You could stay here," he smirked.

  "Yeah, and have my brother come up here and wonder what's going on? I think not." I untangled our legs and stood up, straightening my clothing. Sinclair did the same and went over to the door, opening it just a crack. His sister rolled her eyes and pushed the door open all the way, striding in confidently and sticking out a hand.

  "Emma Sinclair," she smiled.

  "Nice to meet you. I'm Sloane."

  And that was that.

  Avery cackled madly. "You really are going to do the new kid."

  "Oh good grief. Enough about me. What's going on in that strange little head of yours?"

  "Oh, you know." Her face fell. "Things are still weird with me and Christian. I really have no idea what's going on."

  "Want me to do some detective work?" I asked, concerned.

  "Nothing too obvious," she warned.

  "Avery, we've been best friends since first grade. If I go poking around asking questions about you to Christian, he's going to know what's going on," I said dryly.

  She breathed a laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right
."

  oOoOo

  I drove back to my house with the music blaring, wanting to drive all the thoughts out of my head. And I was successful, at least right up until the point where I pulled up into the driveway and saw an unfamiliar car parked there. It was a black sleek-looking car, with tinted windows, and didn't look cheap. I wondered if Dominic had friends over or something, and pressed the 'lock' button impatiently on my own car's keypad as I half jogged, half walked to the door.

  I swung it open and yelled out, "I'm home!" in the hopes that Dominic would come out from wherever he was and introduce me to the newcomers. You could call me nosy, but hey, I didn't mind being curious.

  Someone made their way down the hallway towards me, but I couldn't tell who it was—they were still in the shadows enough that their face was obscured.

  Someone ran up behind that person, panting, and Dominic's voice called out, "Sloane!"

  "What's going on?" I asked warily, backing towards the door.

  The man stepped out of the shadows and I stopped completely. I shut down, not thinking, not feeling, not moving.

  "Sloane," he said, nodding curtly.

  The word was a bad taste in my mouth, but I said it anyway.

  "Logan."

  Chapter Eleven

  He didn't look much different than he had the last time I saw him, which surprised me for some reason. It'd only been a few years, though, so I suppose it shouldn't have. The crisp business suit worn to meet his children definitely didn't surprise me, though.

  "I've asked you not to call me that before, Sloane," he reminded quietly.

  I felt the sneer pull at my face before Dominic stepped in.

  "Leave her alone, Logan," he warned, and pushed past him to stand next to me.

  "I had hoped things would be a little less…tense."

  I snorted openly, shaking myself internally and walking down the hall, away from my father. Dominic followed me, and from the lack of noise on the foyer marble tiles, Logan did not bother to come after us. Good riddance.

  "What's he doing here two weeks early?" I hissed to Dominic once we were out of earshot.

  "I don't know," he said darkly, casting an unrestrained glare at the door we'd closed behind us. Open hostility was uncharacteristic of Dominic, but towards our father? Anything went.

  "Does this mean he's leaving earlier?"

  "When I talked to him before, he said he only had a certain amount of time he could be away from the office. I'm guessing he is." But he shrugged nonetheless. "Who knows."

  "What rooms did he take?"

  "He opened the entire East wing, so avoid that and I'd say you're good."

  The East wing in our house was essentially a house in itself (well, every 'wing' was, but we only used the West wing. There were four houses inside our manor, pretty much). Granted, I would have to use the back staircases and avoid coming in through the front door for a while, but if all went well I'd barely see Logan at all.

  "He wants us here for a family dinner…tomorrow night," Dominic sighed. I threw the door a dirty look, mimicking Dominic's earlier actions. "He wanted to do it tonight, but considering you're home later than he thought, he rescheduled."

  "Oh goody," I said dryly.

  oOoOo

  I skipped going to my room, just in case Logan was lying in wait to ambush me, and instead headed straight to the attic. When I closed the door behind me, I made two phone calls.

  "Hello, Mr. Elleson?" I asked sweetly, carefully nudging some of the sheets that covered the floor into the crack under the door. "Yes, I was just wondering if you had any shifts available for tomorrow night." He replied in the affirmative, and I gasped in mock delight. "You do? Is it possible that I could grab one? That's wonderful! Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."

  A wicked grin on my face, I hit Finn's speed dial number and waited for him to answer. He picked up on the second ring.

  "There's no name for the Wizard," I said immediately.

  "...The Wizard?"

  "That's right," I confirmed. "You know, there's the Wicked Witch of the West, and the writers totally get alliteration points, and there's the Wicked Witch of the East, no points for creativity, but they still have names, you know? But the Wizard, even though he's kind of this bumbling man with deceiving intentions, has no wicked moniker."

  "You are so strange. What on earth made you think of this?"

  "Well you see," I continued, "it just makes sense that if two of the villains had nicknames, that the guy behind the curtain would as well, you know? And I'll tell you exactly what made me think of this: the man behind the curtain is currently residing in our West wing. I'd rather have the damn wicked witches and all their creepy minions here, personally, but apparently he won't take the hint."

  "Oh. Logan."

  "Yes, Logan."

  "I'll be there in thirty."

  "Better make it an hour, Finn, I don't want you to get a three-gazillion-dollar ticket because you decided to see if you could break light speed in your car."

  I hung up. The night sky was perfectly clear out the attic windows, and I went around the room, drawing the curtain that swept all the way around my space closed so whoever looked up wouldn't see the lights. I pushed open a panel in the wall and pulled out my drawing supplies: specifically charcoal and a lot of paper. Strewing them around my space, I began to draw.

  oOoOo

  That's where Finn found me about an hour and fifteen minutes later. He pushed the door open quietly and snuck around the curtain so I could see him clearly. He plopped down next to me on the sheets and idly picked up one of my sketches.

  "You're getting better," he noted, impressed. "I didn't think that was possible."

  I shrugged. "I haven't spent as much time practicing as I should lately."

  "I ran into Logan downstairs."

  "What did he have to say?" I asked, not really caring.

  "Not much," Finn said, loosening the laces on his chucks. "Something about a family dinner tomorrow night, and about how he's not going to be here from Monday to Wednesday."

  "Family dinner tomorrow, hmm?" I smirked. "That's too bad. It just so happens that I have to work tomorrow. Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

  Finn stared at my innocent expression in slight awe. "You're a genius. Maybe I can find a job before tomorrow night!"

  "I can get Mr. Elleson to put you on as a dishwasher for the night or something," I shrugged, smiling.

  "Too obvious, we can't work in the same place."

  "He's going to know anyway," I told him, stacking up my papers and reordering my pencils.

  "Yeah, you're probably right."

  "I'm always right," I said imperiously, standing up. Finn pushed himself up as well, and I put my papers away in the hidden cubby. Pulling something out of it, I slid the panel back in place and walked towards the door. Finn switched the light off and we crept out, and I turned and produced the key I'd hidden in my fist. I locked the door, and Finn stared.

  "You've never had to lock it, have you?" Finn whispered.

  "Not taking any chances with Senor Psychopath on the loose," I whispered back. Finn smiled at the Aladdin reference, and we made our way to our separate rooms.

  oOoOo

  I had nightmares that night. The kind of nightmares where you wake up in the middle of the night, sitting straight up in bed, in a cold sweat with your eyes darting around the room looking for the horrific scene you'd just been jerked out of.

  My breathing slowed gradually, although my heartbeat seemed to keep pounding just as hard as ever in my chest. I shoved my blankets back violently and swung my legs over the bed, making my way silently out of my room. I padded down the hallway and pushed open Finn's door, making sure it didn't creak.

  I closed the door behind me and pushed back his covers, crawling in next to him and burying myself deep into his bed. He woke up at the motion, blearily rubbing his eyes.

  "Sloane?" he asked roughly, and I murmured an affirmative. "What's wrong?"

&nbs
p; "Dreams," I whispered by way of explanation, and he nodded in the darkness, instantly understanding.

  "C'mere." I scooted over to him and he swung an arm over me, drawing the blankets up around our necks, and I buried my face in the crook where his shoulder met his neck. We fell asleep quickly that way.