by Caitlyn Dare
“Eat,” I instruct Hadley as she dives for the bowl of chips. Leaving her to it, I make myself a mixer drink. The vodka is already burning through my veins, taking the edge off. But when I spot Ace through the open patio doors, Michaela hanging off him like a cheap throw, my body tingles with jealousy. He sees me, his piercing eyes locking right on mine as he takes a long pull on the beer bottle in his hand.
I want to know what he’s thinking, because if the way his hard gaze moves over my body is anything to go by, he wants me.
So why did you push me away?
Michaela spots me and sneers, making a scene of standing up and grinding herself all over Ace. He lets his hand run up her thigh and disappear underneath her ridiculously short cheer skirt. I suck in a harsh breath. She barely takes the thing off, preferring to spend her life dressed like Cheer Barbie. It brings her too much power and status.
I want to rip the thing off and tear it to shreds, but first, I want Ace’s hands off her body.
Fuck.
Why is he doing this?
Downing my drink, I pour another. I shouldn’t have come tonight. I’m playing right into his hands. For some reason, he wants me to be jealous. It’s right there in his icy gaze as he watches me while I watch Michaela writhe above him.
“She might as well piss all over him,” Hadley says over my shoulder.
“Feeling better?” I ask her, and she nods around a lazy smile.
“Much. Let’s dance.” Before I can protest, she drags me outside to where the girls are dancing. There’s a DJ set up in the corner, lights bouncing off the surface of the pool and disappearing into the night sky.
Oh, how rich kids party.
I’m about to tell Hadley this is a bad idea when a hand hooks me around the waist, dragging me against a hard chest. “I hoped you’d come,” Bexley slurs in my ear. He’s buzzed, the faint scent of scotch on his breath. Like father, like son, I think to myself.
“You’re drunk,” I reply, twisting my face to his. He grins down at me.
“Maybe, a little. Me and the guys did shots after the pep rally. It’s a team thing.”
I roll my eyes. I couldn’t care less about the team.
“Don’t be that way, Remi Bear.” The use of his childhood nickname for me has my chest constricting.
“Don’t call me that.”
His hand curves up my stomach, anchoring my body to his. “You used to love it when I called you that.”
“We were twelve,” I whisper.
“Yeah, and I thought I was going to grow up and marry you.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I won’t cry. I’ll never shed another tear over Bexley Danforth and his sweet lies.
“We’re not those people anymore, Bex.” I don’t bother to disguise my sadness.
“You’re right, we’re not.” His hand moves up, hovering precariously near the curve of my breast. People are watching. I can feel the weight of their stares. Bexley Danforth is the most popular guy in school... and I’m the girl who no longer belongs here.
A wave of emotion hits me, and I know I’m two seconds away from crying or making a break for it. But the buzz of the liquor gives me the strength to start swaying in Bexley’s arms. I look away from him, landing my glassy gaze on Ace and Michaela. Her lips part, betrayal burning in her heavily made up eyes. She’s wanted Bexley for as long as I can remember. But he’s never wanted her for anything more than a casual hook-up.
I keep my eyes fixed on the two of them as I roll and pop my hips against Bexley’s crotch. He’s rock hard, making no effort to hide how much he wants me as he grinds his cock against my ass. Desire snakes through me. I don’t want Bexley, but he’s holding me with such possession it reminds me of a certain tattooed asshole who is now watching me with pure hatred in his eyes.
Good, I hope it hurts as much as you hurt me.
Bexley lips land on my neck, but I don’t stop him. I can’t. I want Ace to feel every bit of jealousy, hurt, and dejection I felt. He sucks and licks my skin, making my traitorous body shiver.
“Fuck, Rem, do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this? I want you so fucking much.” His hands grip my hips a little.
“Okay, ease up,” I say.
“No way, baby. I’ve waited too damn long.” He starts moving, pulling me away from the crowd until we’re secreted away in the shadows. Spinning me around, he pushes me up against the wall and cages me, his hands either side of my head.
“What the fuck, Bexley?” I hiss. “We were just dancing.” My heart crashes violently behind my ribcage. I wanted to make Ace jealous. I didn’t want... this.
“Nah, baby. You want me, I know you do.” My eyes dart around him wildly. The liquor in my blood is in full effect now, making me feel a little unsteady, and everything starts spinning.
“Let’s go back and dance,” I say, forcing a smile.
“So I’m supposed to believe you don’t want this?” He grabs my hand and shoves it to his cock. “Because I sure as fuck want you. I can’t wait to be deep inside you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Fear takes hold as I realize what a stupid mistake I made, thinking I could play with fire. Bexley Danforth doesn’t take no for an answer. Eventually he always collects what he thinks he’s owed.
And right now, his sights are set firmly on me.
Fuck.
“Bexley, you’re drunk, and so am I.” I press my hands against his chest, trying to leverage enough space to slip around him. “Let’s go back to the party.”
His hand clamps around my arm and he lowers his face to mine, forcing me flat against the wall. “I don’t think so, Rem,” he says in a low voice. “We have unfinished business.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ace
Michaela’s fingernails run over my abs and scratch down the skin to my waistband. Her lame ass attempt at seduction makes my skin crawl, and I wish she’d just claw my cock off so there is nothing of me left to rub herself up against. How any of the guys around here find her attractive, I have no fucking clue.
“We’re done,” I say, taking her shoulders in my hands and pushing her away.
She clings to me like a koala would a tree.
It’s not cute.
“I said we’re done here.”
“But, Ace,” she whines in her high-pitched, annoying voice.
“But nothing.” I’m a little more forceful this time and successfully shove her from my body.
I have just watched Bexley pull Remi into the shadows of the pool house, and like fuck am I allowing him any more time with her than he’s already had. He touched something that belongs to me. He kissed what’s mine. For that, he’s going to pay. But it won’t be tonight. I’ll let him stew for a bit.
Her scream rings out in the air, and I take off running. Only when I turn the corner to where they disappeared, what I find has my eyes bulging.
Remi is standing over a curled up and moaning Bexley. I’m a guy, I know the pain he’s going through right now thanks to her knee, and I can’t help but smile. There’s also a little trickle of blood coming from his lip.
Fucking hell, did she punch him?
Pride swells within me for my girl.
My girl? No. She’s just my plaything. My pawn.
“Looks like you don’t need me.”
“When did I ever say I did?” she spits, looking me up and down, the same disgust in her eyes that most of her classmates look at me with on a daily basis.
I put my hands up in surrender. Some movement over her shoulder catches my eye, but it’s too dark to see who it is lurking in the shadows.
“Excuse me,” she spits, shouldering past me and attempting to go back to the party.
“No.” Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and stop her when she’s beside me.
“Get your fucking hands off me. You’re no better than him.”
Images of him touching her around here flicker through my mind, and my blood boils.
“Just go ba
ck to your cheer slut and continue ignoring me. It was much easier then.”
She refuses to look at me as she says this, and it only angers me further. With her chin grasped in my hand, I push her back against the wall. Staring down into her large, dark eyes, I almost fucking drown in them.
They’re mesmerizing.
She’s fucking mesmerizing.
“She,” I spit, “is not my anything.”
“You might want to tell her that, she was climbing you like a fucking tree.”
A smile twitches at my lips. “Jealous, Princess?”
“Never.”
Our stare holds, chemistry cracking between us, but neither of us takes action.
Her chest heaves and her pupils dilate. I’m just about as sure as I can be that she’ll accept my kiss when Cole stumbles around the corner, a few leaves stuck to his Seahawks jersey.
“Hey,” he grunts as if this is totally fucking normal. “I need a drink.”
He disappears as fast as he appeared, leaving my head spinning, but Remi spots my moment of weakness and slips from my hold.
“I’m going to get a drink. Stay away from me.”
“Motherfucker,” I mutter to myself.
I watch her ass sway in that short as fuck skirt, and my fists clench.
A moan comes from behind me. I’d forgotten that piece of shit was still there.
I drop down to my haunches and look at him. His lip is really starting to swell. It seems she’s got a fine right hook. Something I should probably remember. I’m sure I already deserve a couple.
His eyes widen when he drags them open and finds me staring back at him. Fisting my fingers in his jersey, I drag him closer, so we’re almost nose to nose. “Don’t fucking touch her ever again. You hear me?”
“Fuck off, man. She was mine long before you showed up.” I pull the fabric tighter.
“She’s. Not. Yours.”
“She fucking will be. I’ve waited years for her. It seems like she’s softening at last.”
“You fucking touch her, and I’ll make sure you’re unable to do anything with a woman ever again.”
“Fuck off, Heights scum. You don’t scare me.”
I laugh. It’s calculating and evil. “Oh, I really, really should.” He swallows nervously, proving that he’s all talk, and I stand.
Towering over at him, I cast my eyes over his curled up body. “Worthless piece of shit.” I spit at him as if he’s a piece of trash and walk away.
Cole and Remi were right about one thing. I need a fucking drink.
The party is exactly as I was expecting: rich kids drinking their fucking rich drinks and attempting to go crazy. I guess it’s okay enough, company aside, but it’s not exactly my idea of a great night. There’s not enough weed or decent pussy for that.
“I drop down onto a lounger beside Cole, who’s enjoying watching the girls in bikinis jumping about in the pool.
“If I watch long enough, I’ll get to see some nip, right?” he slurs when he sees it’s me. Cole might be a quiet motherfucker most of the time, but give him enough alcohol and he soon starts talking.
“Just go chat one up, you’re a Seahawk now. They’ll be fighting over which one gets to suck you off.”
“You reckon they could do the job right?” he asks, not removing his eyes from them. “I mean, they might have been skanks back at home, but they had mad skills, man. I’m not sure these rich chicks could compete.”
“Maybe you should find out.”
He looks at me, a plan formulating in his drunken head, and he smiles.
“Where’s your girl? I thought she’d be all over you after you rescued her from the douchebag.”
“She rescued herself, it seems,” I say, tipping my beer bottle to my mouth.
“Man, if you saw what I saw then—” Suddenly his loitering in the bushes makes sense. He was about to jump out and protect her.
“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” I mutter. My muscles ache to feel myself laying into him for thinking he had a right to Remi.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Just not here, not tonight. When he least expects it.”
“Good. No motherfucker should touch a woman like that.” His words stir something ugly inside me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I check to see if Remi is still standing with her friend where she was only a few moments ago. She might think I’ve allowed her to enjoy the party, but she’d be very much mistaken. I’m watching her every move. Or at least, I was until I was distracted by plotting my revenge on that motherfucker.
“Fuck.” Getting up, I leave Cole behind on his mission to see some tit and march up to Remi’s friend.
“Where is she?”
“Uh…” She pales as she looks up at me.
“I said, where the fuck is she?”
“S- she just went to the b-bathroom.”
“Fucking hell. Why didn’t you go with her?”
“I’m not her fucking minder.” Her friend’s eyes are blown and she sways on the spot. Great.
Running into the house, I locate the downstairs bathroom easily with the huge line formed in front of it. But Remi isn’t in it. Storming to the front of it, I twist the handle, much to the girl's annoyance who’s next in line.
“Hey, wait in the queue,” she whines.
“Whatever,” I mutter. Standing back slightly, I ram my shoulder into the door. It flies open on the first attempt, but she’s not inside, just a girl who screams bloody murder and tries to hide from all the prying eyes as she takes a piss.
Stalking away, I ignore the abuse being hurled at me as I take the stairs three at a time. I swing open every door I pass as I make my way down the hallway. Couples fill most of them in varying states of dress. Some of them look horrified that they have an audience and race to close the doors, others don’t give a shit. One of them even asks if I want to join their little party for two.
Shaking my head, I make my way to the end and the final few doors. I swear to god that if I find her in one of these with a guy, I’m going to lose my shit. If I find her with him, then I know things are going to get messy.
I reach behind me to ensure my switchblade is in place should I need it and run my fingers over the handle. The final door taunts me. Rushing over, I swing it open and stare at the empty room beyond. There’s Seahawk shit everywhere, but there’s no sign of Remi or the guy whose room this clearly is.
I’m about to turn and keep searching when a noise hits my ears. A groan. Running inside the room, I find the connecting bathroom and dart through it.
“Fuck.”
I discover Remi curled up on the floor. The room stinks of puke, and when I look closer I find she’s covered the floor in her attempt to get to the toilet.
“Hey, Princess,” I say, dropping down to my haunches in front of her and moving a lock of hair from her face.
Her skirt has risen up, showing me the swell of her ass and the scrap of black lace that’s covering it, her hitched top displaying her tanned and toned stomach.
Even passed out she’s fucking hot.
Sliding my hands under her arms, I lift her until she’s sitting against the wall. “Ace?” she moans. Her eyes flicker open, but they don’t focus on anything, so I’m pretty sure she has no idea my name just fell from her lips.
“Let’s get you out of here, Princess.”
I sweep her into my arms and hold her close as I make my way out of his fucking room. When she wakes, she’s probably not going to want to know I helped her, but fuck, it could be a hell of a lot worse if I didn’t. That motherfucker knew what he wanted earlier, and I doubt he’d have stopped, especially if he found her in this state in his bedroom.
“Conner,” I shout when I get to the bottom of the stairs. He’s dancing with some redhead, but the second he hears my voice he drops her like a stone.
“Shit, is she okay?” he asks, coming over and running his eyes over Remi. He’s more sober than I was expecting, thank fuck.
“Yeah, just drunk. Get Cole and meet us at the car.”
He nods and runs off in the direction of the garden. I’ve just managed to maneuver the two of us into the car when they both climb into the front.
“Where to?”
“Home.”
“But?”
“No buts. I’m not taking her back to Sarah like this.”
“But if James—”
“James won’t know. I’ll take her to the pool house, clean her up, and let her sleep it off.”
Conner looks at me in the mirror, concern filling his eyes. I know what he’s worried about. He thinks I’m going to get fed up trying to fit in with this life and end up running back to the Heights, leaving him here. I don’t know how many times I need to tell him that won’t happen. Not until they’ve both graduated and have their futures mapped out, that is. Like fuck am I staying here after they both fuck off to college.
“Just drive,” I demand, and he thankfully does as he’s told, but not before grumbling, “If she pukes in here then you’re cleaning it up.”
The drive is short, and in only a few minutes, Cole is holding the door open so I can get out with Remi still in my arms. She snored lightly all the way here.
“You two go in. We’ll be fine.” They both look between Remi and me before glancing at each other. They’re not happy about it, but they eventually do as they’re told and disappear into the house via the side door that leads directly to our staircase.
Remi doesn’t stir until I get us into the bedroom at the back of the pool house. That’s when she pulls her head away from my chest, looks at me through hooded eyes for the briefest moment, and then pukes over both of us.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Princess,” I groan, walking straight for the bathroom. I drop her on the floor before pulling my shirt off and leaning into the shower to turn it on.
I glance at her slumped on the tiles and something aches inside me. I’m just doing this to keep her safe, I tell myself. To keep her away from Bexley and his wandering hands.
Biting down on my lip, I think about what to do for the best. She’s going to be pissed in the morning when she finds out I stripped and showered her. But what’s the alternative? Allow her to sleep with her hair caked in her own puke?