Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  Love and hate are two vastly different emotions. However, when they're traveling from two different directions, hurriedly speeding toward one another, and crash headfirst … it's explosive, volatile, and completely, one hundred percent addictive.

  Flipping me around, he bends down and grabs me by my butt cheeks, lifting me. He deposits me on the kitchen island with a growl, eyes eating up my entire body with desire. He jerks me to the edge and steps between my thighs, grinding his hard cock against my aching core.

  The sound of Maverick smashing cars manages to break through the lustful haze I'm shrouded in, but not enough to make me stop.

  "Hunter. Maverick."

  "He's good." He attacks my lips, weaving his hand in my hair for extra control, even as his other drops to my hip and holds me steady. He continues to grind against me, and we pant and whimper and groan into each other's mouths.

  Wrapping my legs around him, I undulate my hips, rubbing myself against him. His fingers tighten, but not in warning—in need. His tongue plunders my mouth, taking no prisoners as he kisses me into submission.

  This is much different than that night at his house. He's not trying to ask for anything. He's taking it.

  He's taking me.

  I shiver against him, becoming lost and transfixed on getting as close to him as possible. His taste explodes on my taste buds, making me hungry for Spearmint and coffee. Groaning, I grab him around the neck and pushing our bodies closer.

  The ache in my core tightens like a coiled spring. Like at any moment, whatever is holding it will release and watch as it soars into the sky.

  "We should stop," I gasp against his lips.

  He nips at mine, shaking his head. “Can’t."

  I can't say anything more than that. It's been three years since anyone has even touched me with such passion, even if it's misplaced. And that's what I'm afraid of. That Hunter will realize what he's doing and stop. Or, even worse, apologize. I couldn't bear it.

  Neither happens, thought. What does is his phone going off in the front pocket in his pants. I try to break the kiss, but he doesn't allow that, going deeper and harder, nearly making me stop breathing as he grinds his erection against my throbbing clit.

  "Y-You better answer that," I finally get a chance to say.

  He growls, retorting, "It's probably fucking Cass."

  A cold bucket of dread slams over my head. My stomach tilts on its axis as nausea completely engulfs any hint of pleasure. Shunting backward, I grab his shirt and really look him in the eyes. He's confused for a moment, but then realizes what he's said.

  "Oh, shit," he says. "No, no, no. You got the wrong idea."

  Humiliation wraps around my throat like a vice. "Are you two still together?"

  "No,” he adamantly replies.

  My eyes flick down to his pocket, trying my hardest not to look at the bulge behind his zipper, when his phone goes off again. I bring my eyes back up to his.

  "Then why is she calling you?"

  I don’t mean to sound defensive, but it’s hard not to react after what we were just doing.

  Huffing, he steps back and runs his hands through his hair in agitation. "I don't know, Harloe."

  We stare at each other long enough for the call to go to voicemail. But immediately, his phone begins ringing once more. Rolling my eyes, I push him away to jump down. A hand on my upper thigh stops me.

  Narrowing my eyes at his hand and then up at him, I growl, "Let me down."

  "For fuck’s sake." He shuffles backward, thinking better than to try and assert his dominance in a time like this.

  Should have known Hunter would make me out to feel like an idiot. By the time I'm off the counter, he's growling and grabbing his phone out of his jeans pocket.

  Sure enough, her name is flashing across the screen. What's even worse? His phone still has her contact save with a picture of them together. Fucking gross.

  Releasing a sound of disgust, I step away and pick up my water bottle while he answer her call. I try not to listen. Really, I do. But I can't stop myself, even if I wanted to.

  This was the bitch who slithered in like a snake in high school. Let's just say a grudge is the least I hold against her.

  "What?" he snaps, as I pour the rest of the water down the sink, tossing the bottle into the trash. Gathering a dish towel, I begin wiping up the mess while he tries to talk to her under his breath.

  It doesn't work. I can hear whoever is on the other line, and she’s not happy.

  "Yes, this is he." Hunter's body tenses with fury. His eyes meet mine briefly, but don't stay connected too long.

  It seems whatever we had going is done—tough break.

  Moments later, he seethes, "Fine, I'm fucking coming. But I'm telling you right now this is the last goddamn time I'm dropping anything for you.”

  He ends the call with a curse. While still looking at the blackened screen, he holds his cell up like I didn't just know he was on the call with queen bitch herself.

  "Goddammit,” he seems to mutter under his breath, then responds to the person on the other line. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

  It's hard not to roll my eyes. "Same tricks. Different school."

  "Huh?" He peers at me, confusion riddling his features.

  Instead, I brush it off and shake my head. Jutting my chin toward the door, I quip, "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

  "It's not like that," he retorts, and what’s so terrible is he actually seems to mean it.

  Still a sucker just like he was back then.

  I've had it. All through school, she tried to get Hunter to notice her. Being the head cheerleader, and the biggest slut in school, she got what she wanted by using her body. And now, it seems like she's doing that again.

  I will fight for no man. Not if he can't make me a top priority. That's too much to ask from Hunter, I know, and I don't even want that from him. But to not be dropped for a bitch like Cassandra Radcliff would be pretty goddamn nice.

  Crossing my arms, I release a huff of irritation. "How’s it like, then?"

  "It’s ... too fucked up to explain," he releases on a pained sigh. "It's my fault. I told her it was over, and we'd been together for three years."

  "Oh, trust me, I know how long you've been together. I was there when it started, remember?"

  He flinches but still tries to justify leaving his son to go console his ex-girlfriend. "I have to make sure she's okay. Lo, I did the same for you."

  I laugh at that. "Did you? I didn't see you there when I was crying my eyes out, not knowing what I did to deserve such betrayal. She's known you intimately for three years?" I nod. "Bravo, give that slut a metal. I put up with your shit my entire life and only got a year of happiness before you tossed me to the side. So, sure, go run off and help her.”

  Turning my back on him, I pull open the drawer for takeout menus. Hunter has Maverick all hyped up for pizza, and now, I have to live up to my boy’s expectations. Just like I always do. I can't drop everything to run off and play knight in shining armor to someone who doesn't deserve it.

  After what she and her cronies did to me? Fuck, no.

  All the anger at just the thought of what she did bursts out of me. Forgetting the pamphlets, I slam my hands down on the counter and try to breathe through the blaze of fury.

  Finally, my hardened eyes meet his. "Did you know she tried to have me drowned in the girl’s bathroom? In a toilet, for Christ’s sake. It was right at the beginning of school, and I woke up in the clinic after it happened. God knows how I got there. Hunter, I spent the next few weeks coughing and hacking all because your little girlfriend nearly killed me!"

  The more I stare at Hunter, sensing his unease and watching him fidget, the quicker I piece it all together. How he was nice after that day, and there was no more bullying. At least, not from him. My life had finally started settling down until I had to go get Maverick, and then, it all burst into flames again.

  Putting a hand over my face, I
don't know whether to cry because of how sucktastic my life is or laugh because this has got to be a joke.

  "It was you, wasn't it?" After some time, I lower my hand enough to see him nod with guilt marring his features. "And even knowing what you do, you're still going to go to her.”

  "Harloe," he begins, but I stop him right there.

  Cutting him off with my hand, I peer in toward the living room, watching as Maverick remains oblivious to the goings-on in here. He's still vroom-vrooming in the living room as he bumps cars into each other.

  With that small sound breaking through my lustful haze, I come to the realization I should have before losing myself and allowing Hunter to touch me. I may feel an attraction for Hunter, but I can't take the risk. Maverick is too important, and I just couldn't handle it if a broken—whatever this is—harms him from his extended family.

  "Just go," I say, and there's a small part deep, deep down inside that still hopes he won't. Even after putting it together about him helping me to the clinic. Even about what happened. That hope burns brightly, and I need to shroud that bitch in darkness and smoke her out.

  "I'll be back," he replies with a sad lilt to his voice, reluctant to go.

  I shake my head, already forgetting everything that happened. It's hard to do since my body remembers, but I have to.

  "Don't worry about it. I'll tell him his daddy had something more important to do, and he had to leave."

  The last thing I allow myself to see is Hunter cringing as I walk out of the kitchen. I come into the living room, my chest aching, to see my little boy playing alone with his toy cars. The sight of him doesn't alleviate the sadness and dismay that exudes from me at the sound of the front door closing behind Hunter, but it does go a long way in helping me.

  "Here," I chirp, already pushing Hunter out of my mind, even as hard as that is, and getting down onto the floor with my son. “Let’s do some crashing.”

  Coming second smarts worse than the deepest sunburn. But it's a good thing Maverick will never know what that feels like. He has me, and if and when Hunter returns—with the results of that test—it's all or nothing.

  He better choose wisely.

  CHAPTER 30

  I barrel my way through the door, my eyes leisurely scanning the inside. Sterile, white walls blaze in brightness from the early evening sun shining in through the glass window. It casts a subtle, delicate orange glow on everything its path.

  Hardly anyone is sitting in the waiting area, a few students and old Mr. Thompson, who always comes to the campus for medical aide instead of the actual doctor. They all jerk their eyes up to me, teeming with a silent inquiry as they follow my movements toward the check-in counter.

  "I'm here for Cassandra Radcliff." My tone brogues no argument.

  The nurse behind the desk gives a soft sigh. It's dainty, feminine. But even I can hear the exasperation underlining the sound. She never once looks up, even while taking off her reading glasses. "Sir, if you are not next of kin, please have a seat."

  She gestures to the bench stationed in the hallway. My eyes flick from her to it several times, and I can't stop the anger from building. I slap my hand down on top of the counter, starling her into looking up. Her eyes widen when she realizes who she dismissed so easily.

  "Cassandra. Radcliff. Now," I seethe between clenched teeth.

  Her head nods like one of those bobblehead dolls. "Y-Yes. Of course. Certainly, Mr. Prince."

  It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes at her reaction. Anyone who meets a Prince in this town acts like we're royalty. There is nothing royal about us. We are average Joes who just so happen to have an obscene amount of money because of a risk my great grandpop took back in the early nineteen-twenties. However, with my dad's fortune, he ventured off from oil and went into construction, and built the business strictly with his bare hands.

  That's how we found Harloe's dad in that lumber yard doing their books and working outside in the blistering heat. My dad was trying to make a deal with the owner of that lumber yard that if he supplied all the lumber he needed, then my dad would consider doing business with him.

  My dad's company practically built this town. He spent most of the eighties and nineties building his brand and broadening his reach. Now, people all over the world want a piece of LMOH Construction. But since he built the brand just the way he wanted it, he can pick and choose who he works with.

  I wish I could pick and choose how people reacted to my presence. If I could, I'd most definitely put them on a “chill” setting. Because no amount of ass-kissing will get them any closer to the top of LMOH than me.

  Some people, who shall remain nameless, don't consider that when getting close to any of us. Just because we have the Prince name, doesn't mean we're any closer to getting behind the scenes of LMOH than they are. For instance, I will have to go through four years of university before my father will even allow me to go it alone in the finance department. After a two-year degree, I will start an internship there during my breaks.

  A Prince doesn’t get anywhere without a little hard work.

  But you can't tell people that. If you even try to explain the ethics of hard work, they look at you like they fried all their brain cells on simply getting you to notice them. Sometimes they’ll get this blank look in their eye, but that's only happened a time or two.

  I step back as the nurse comes around the side of the counter and starts guiding me into the restricted section. This area is strictly for family members only. Shouldn't be too chuffed about being able to go wherever I want to because of who I am, but in this case, I wish I were the average person.

  I don't want to see Cass. Haven't since we broke up—or whatever you want to call it. She has only come around a time or two to try to get me to change my mind, but surprisingly, she hasn't made a big stink about it.

  That should have been my first clue that everything wasn't as cut and dried as I liked to have thought. After three years of being together, I should have known she'd pull a stunt like this.

  Pushing open the large door, the nurse stops at the station, double checks something on a sheet, and then leads me to one of the largest rooms at the end of the hall. It's the last door on the left, past the large utility closet, and as far away from the station as the residential hall gets.

  Stopping in front of the door, she hesitates. Instantly, my guard comes up even more than it already was. I can see the tiny snippet of a woman wants to say something, especially with the way she's burning a hole into the door with her gaze, but she doesn't utter a word.

  "What is it?"

  My rough voice causes her to jump. "Oh, nothing, Mr. Prince."

  I watch, silently, as she licks her lips and fishes her mouth open. What little patience I have left leaves me with a growl. "I refuse to ask twice."

  Reluctantly, she blows out a breath of air and then turns to face me. "It’s all a lie.”

  Furrowing my brows, I tilt my head to the side when what she says makes no sense. Why in the blue-blazes is she talking about someone lying?

  "You're not making a lick of sense," I heave out through n exhale. "Just go back to your desk, and I'll show myself in."

  A crestfallen look falls over her appearance, and when her gaze drifts back to the door, possibly a little hint of anger as well. But she says nothing as she steps past me and makes her way back down the hall. I watch her over my shoulder until she disappears around the corner. I don't even move until I can no longer hear her shoes squeak against the freshly waxed floor.

  Shaking my head, I shove open the door. The moment I step inside, I hear her tiny gasp of pleasure.

  "Hunter." Her smile is large enough to light up any room.

  If the situation were different, I would have been here no problem. No argument. Nothing. But now things have changed, especially since her and her girls got physical with Harloe. And she knows that, too, when she gets a good look at the blank look on my face. My eyes narrow on hers. I take one, then two men
acing steps in her direction, she cowers in on herself and tugs the sheet up to her chest.

  "The doctor told me you were in the clinic and needed me." My expression turns even stonier. "Why?"

  She looks perfectly fine to me, in every way. There doesn't seem to be a thing wrong with her, besides looking at me with that simpering smile on her face.

  A small tear breaks away from the corner of her eye, and her breathing shudders. "I'm pregnant."

  Silence envelops the room. It feels like my brain is short-circuiting. "Come again?"

  I swallow hard, trying to bury the emotion blazing through me, but I can't. I'm sure she can see the fear, anger, and utter disgust on my face because a moment later, that single tear turns into dozens. Her cheeks heat with scalding lines of sadness as they fall off her chin to pool on her lap and saturating the sheets.

  The room seems dimmer in here than it did out in the lobby, and seconds later, a bout of swim-head nearly knocks me on my ass. I have to lean against the wall to keep from smacking the ground.

  My chest rises and falls, hurriedly, as I fight and pant for air. Good God, am I dying? The skin over my chest feels like it's getting tighter and tighter, constricting my breathing. I hear Cass call out to me, but I don't make out what she's saying. It's all fuzzy.

  "Hunt." I feel someone shaking me. "Hunter!" There they go again. Their voice sounds like it's traveling through the water to reach me, and I can't quite bring myself to acknowledge them.

  A baby? Pregnant?

  "I already have a son," I mumble incoherently.

  It doesn't hit me what I said until after it comes out of my mouth. And it feels ... right. There's this connection I feel when I'm around him that can't be explained, like two magnets attracting each other.

  But this ... Cass being pregnant? It's hard to explain, but I'll try.

  "It doesn't feel right."

  "What doesn't feel right?" she coos, and it's then I can feel her dagger-like claws digging into my bicep.

  Shaking her off, I stand to my full height, straining for breath, but in a lot better shape than I was a moment earlier. I don't miss the flash of pain that enters her gaze when I dislodge her hold. I also don't try to analyze it.