Binding 13: Boys of Tommen #1

by Chloe Walsh

  Dropping it on the floor, she ran back to her door and quickly locked it before resuming her position on the bed, cross-legged and facing me.

  "I had trouble concentrating at my old school," she added, while rummaging in her bag. "I managed to keep up with my language classes, but I let maths slide."

  I knew this.

  I'd read all about it in her file.

  "That's understandable," I told her, nodding.

  Shannon looked at me with a wary expression. "Why is that understandable?"

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  "Because you have to take a crazy number of subjects for the junior cert," I bluffed. Shrugging, I added, "Can't be good at all of them."

  "I bet you were," she replied, turning her attention back to her bag, disaster averted. She pulled her Maths book out and dropped it on the bed between us. "Let me guess, you took all higher-level subjects for your junior cert, too?"

  "Give me that book," I grumbled, feeling embarrassed.

  "All A's?" she teased.

  "Nope," I shot back, flicking through the pages of her textbook. "I got a C in ordinary level science," I told her and then I sighed before admitting, "The rest were higher level A's."

  "Really?"

  I nodded, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

  "You're smart?"

  I just shrugged.

  "Well, I got my only A in science," she mused. "It's my only higher-level subject."

  "Well, I take my hat off to you," I muttered. "Because I fucking loathe science."

  "Stop," she chuckled. "Science isn’t that bad."

  I arched a brow. "Oh, like maths isn’t?"

  She grimaced. "Okay, fair point."

  "Come on," I said with a smirk, refocusing my attention on the book in my hands. "Get your copybook out and I'll school you."

  "You'll school me?" She giggled and Christ, it was a lovely sound.

  Shannon didn’t do enough laughing.

  I racked my brain thinking of other things I could do to get a repeat of that sound.

  I had a whole heap of ideas – terrible, awful ideas.

  Concentrate, Kavanagh…

  So I did.

  For the next hour or so, I went through her work with her, watching carefully as she attempted each problem.

  She wasn’t kidding when she said she found Maths hard.

  Shannon was seriously struggling with the subject.

  Seeing her struggle made me want to jump in and bulldoze, which was exactly what I seemed to be doing as I lay strewn out on my side, with my long legs hanging off the side of her bed, breaking down every sum, equation, fraction, and percentage that came our way.

  One of her biggest issues was that she had no idea how to use her calculator efficiently.

  Quickly on, I discovered that she had no clue about Sin, Cos, and Tan.

  She was bluffing and pretending that she knew what she was doing when she clearly didn’t.

  When she finally caved in and tossed the calculator on my lap and admitted that she didn’t have the foggiest clue of what she was doing, I ended up spending another forty-five minutes going through basic methods with her.

  When she eventually starting solving the problems without me hovering over her copybook with an eraser, it felt like I'd scored a bleeding try, I was so proud of her.

  It was ridiculous how much genuine satisfaction I got when those big, blue eyes lit up when she clicked onto a problem.

  It was right around the time I was beginning to think Gibsie had a point, and that I could do this friend thing, when I faced a problem of my own.

  I foolishly allowed my eyes to wander off the copybook Shannon was furiously scribbling on, where they then proceeded to trail over her body.

  She was still sitting cross-legged and facing me, but she was leaning forward, working hard on a sum, which caused the string top she was wearing to droop, giving me a glorious view of her braless tits.

  Sweet Jesus Christ.

  I loved tits.

  And tits that belonged to this girl were even more appealing.

  They were small and perky with rosy-tipped, pebbled nipples.

  She was just so fucking beautiful.

  I was instantly hard.

  "Are you okay?" Shannon asked, placing her small hand on my forearm.

  "Huh?" I snapped my gaze to her face, totally fucking busted.

  "Are you okay?" she repeated, blue eyes locked on mine, expression innocent.

  I was about the furthest a person could get to okay.

  But for her sake, I forced a small nod and said, "Yeah, I'm just getting a bit hungry."

  What the actual fuck, Johnny?

  "Can I get you something?" she quickly asked. "What would you like to eat?"

  You.

  I would like to eat you, Shannon.

  "We should probably think about wrapping this up," I stated gruffly. "It's getting late."

  I made a big deal of checking my watch only to frown when I realized it actually was getting late.

  "Shite," I muttered. "It's half six."

  We'd been up in her room for four hours?

  Where the hell did the time go?

  I never missed a meal.

  I wasn’t even sore.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I spent four hours sitting down.

  It didn’t happen.

  Jesus, this girl was making me lose track of everything.

  "Um, yeah, sure – of course," Shannon mumbled, falling over her words in that adorable way she did when she was flustered.

  Don’t worry, baby, I thought to myself, I'm flustered too.

  "I really appreciate you helping me," she added, closing her books up and shoving them back in her schoolbag. "You helped me big time." She blew out a breath before adding, "Again."

  "We can do this again," I offered. "If you want?"

  Her face lit up and she shifted closer to me. "Really?"

  I nodded slowly and resisted the urge to reach over and touch her.

  "You wouldn’t mind?" Shannon asked, all wide-eyed, as she tentatively shifted closer until her knees were touching my left thigh.

  "No, Shannon." Failing miserably, I reached over and tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. "I wouldn’t mind."

  Stop this, Johnny.

  Stop this now!

  I tried.

  I truly, honest to god, tried to make my body get off her bed, but she was there, she was right fucking there, and I couldn’t find an ounce of resolve inside of me.

  I just sat there, knowing what was coming, knowing it was the worst possible thing I could allow to happen, and still wanting it more than my next breath.

  "Maybe in the library next time," I finally found the words to say. "Or school."

  Her small, heart shaped face nodded up and down. "Okay."

  "Because I shouldn’t be here," I added weakly. "In your room."

  "I know," she replied, voice small and uncertain.

  "It's, uh…" I swallowed deeply. "I should probably go home now."

  "Johnny?" she whispered.

  "Yeah?"

  "Hi," she breathed, edging closer.

  "Hi," I croaked out, fisting her duvet so tightly I was fairly sure I was going to rip the fabric.

  "Johnny?" Shannon whispered again.

  "Yeah?"

  "I’m going to hug you now." She hitched her leg over mine. "Is that okay?"

  Don’t do it.

  You'll never get over this girl.

  "Yeah," I exhaled a ragged breath, feeling my heart smash against my ribcage, as she hovered above me. "That's okay."

  "Thanks for today," she whispered in my ear as she straddled me.

  "You're welcome," I replied gruffly, clinging to my self-restraint for all I was worth.

  Don’t put your hands on her.

  Too fucking late.

  My hands moved of their own accord, shooting out to clamp her hips.

  The sensation of having her on top of me was
too much.

  It was all too fucking much.

  "I should go," I groaned, as I dragged her on my lap, unable to stop myself from thrusting upwards.

  Fuck the pain in my groin.

  I was on fire for this girl.

  Shannon wrapped her arms around my shoulders and gingerly rocked her hips on top of me in the best, most fucked up hug I'd ever received.

  "I don’t want you to go," she moaned – she actually fucking moaned in my ear.

  Groaning, I sat forward and pulled her roughly against me, hugging on her and rocking on her, and losing my mind in her.

  You're playing with fire.

  This girl is going to ruin you.

  Fuck.

  "I should go," I continued to tell her as I buried my face in her gorgeous neck and prayed for divine intervention to stop me before I took something from her that I couldn’t give back.

  Before she took something from me that I could never get back.

  Because I had never felt this much for anyone.

  And it was with that knowledge that I knew I could never be selfish with her.

  "Shannon, I really need to go home now," I told her, tone thick and gravelly. "Really."

  "Oh…of course. I'm so sorry," she whispered as she scrambled off my lap. "If that's what you want?" she added, retreating to the far corner of her bed.

  No.

  No, that wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  But it was the right thing to do.

  Dammit to hell!

  With self-control I didn’t know I possessed, I climbed off her bed and stood up.

  Keeping my back to Shannon, I walked over to her window and pretended to stare out, while I discreetly rearranged the huge fucking problem in my pants.

  I knew I was probably freaking Shannon out by just standing here like this, but I couldn’t walk until I had calmed down.

  I was hurt and horny.

  It was a terrible combination.

  Inhaling several calming breaths, I clenched my eyes shut and strived for control, and thought of every un-sexy thing imaginable ranging from my dead grandmother, god bless her soul, to Gibsie in drag.

  By the time Shannon spoke again, I had managed to settle myself.

  "Johnny?" she said in a small voice from her perch on the bed. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be sorry," I replied, tone thick and husky, confident that I wouldn’t traumatize her when I turned around. "It's all good. I'm uh, just…I'm going to go home now."

  "Okay." She nodded shyly and climbed off the bed. "I'll walk you out."

  I kept a wide berth of her body as I trailed after her, knowing that if I didn’t there was a good chance I would take her back in that bedroom and mess up beyond repair.

  Like every time I walked away from this girl, the closer I got to leaving, the more depressed I felt.

  "So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Shannon said when I stepped outside.

  "Yeah." Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pulled out my car keys. "You definitely will."

  "Thanks again for today."

  "Thanks for showing me your room," I replied, cringing internally at the stupid fucking comment.

  "Oh, no problem. You can see it anytime," Shannon replied, smiling.

  I smirked at her verbal blunder.

  "Oh, God." She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes bulging. "I didn’t –"

  "Relax," I chuckled. "I know what you meant."

  I stepped forward then, because I was a masochistic bastard with a penchant for torturing myself and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Bye, Shannon."

  "Bye, Johnny," she whispered, shivering on the doorstep.

  I turned around then and walked straight to my car, not daring to look back at her.

  Masochistic or not, if I turned back and looked at those midnight blue eyes again, I was going to drown in them.

  52

  Rude awakening

  Shannon

  "What are you doing up?" Dad barked when I walked into the living room later that night to get my phone that I had foolishly forgotten on the couch when I was doing an emergency clean up after Johnny left.

  "I left my phone down here," I quickly explained. I'd been so distracted by Johnny that I had to get all my chores done in record time.

  "Then get it and go," Dad ordered. "United are playing."

  It wasn’t like me to leave stuff lying around the place, but my head was in the clouds.

  Cloud Johnny, to be precise.

  I knew I had played a dangerous game of Russian roulette by taking him up to my bedroom this afternoon.

  If my father had come home, he would have killed me.

  The problem was, if the opportunity presented itself, I knew I would do it again.

  Having him in my space like that, even just for a little while, was wonderful.

  It was personal.

  And I felt safe.

  Like nothing could touch me when he was close.

  In a messed-up way, I think I did it on purpose?

  Like I half-hoped my father would come home just so he could see the huge boy who I knew wouldn’t let him hurt me.

  That was a crazy thought.

  I was being crazy.

  Thinking about Johnny sitting on my bed, offering to tutor me, made my heart thump against my ribcage.

  He was so smart.

  Like for real, he was incredibly intelligent and patient and a million other amazing things.

  After he left, I spent the rest of the evening in emotional overload, thinking about how reckless I had behaved.

  I had no idea what I was thinking when I climbed onto his lap like that, but I didn’t care because Johnny hugged me back.

  He held me to his body and hugged me so tight that I was still trembling from the contact.

  And then he kissed me goodbye.

  Granted, it was on the cheek, but still.

  His lips had touched my body without coercion.

  I didn’t even care about Bella right now.

  Not tonight at least.

  It was hard to dwell on the negative when something so incredibly positive had just happened to me.

  I understood that he didn’t see me in the way I saw him, and I got that this would never amount to anything more than friends, but I didn’t care because he seemed to be sticking around.

  He seemed determined to help me.

  I wasn’t sure what was happening, but whatever it was, I didn’t want it to stop.

  I was happy to be his friend.

  I just wanted to keep him in my life.

  In whatever way I could.

  I wanted him to stay…

  "Are you deaf?" my father's slurred voice penetrated my thoughts, bringing me back down to reality with a depressing bang.

  "Huh?"

  "I said get out of the fucking way," Dad barked, tossing the remote at me. "I can't see the match with ya!"

  The remote smacked off my hip and landed on the floor, resulting in the batteries flying out and rolling under the couch.

  "Sorry," I hurried out of his way of the television and quickly scrambled to retrieve the batteries and put them back in the remote for him.

  "Why are you being like that?" Dad asked then, eyeing me with bleary mistrust.

  Exhaling slowly, I set the remote down on the coffee table and picked up my phone before turning to look at him. "Being like what, Dad?"

  "Acting strange," he accused, glaring at me. "Smirking to yourself."

  I shrugged my response, unsure how to answer that.

  "What's going on?" he growled, watching me like a hawk, his brown eyes hard and unyielding.

  "Nothing's going on," I replied quietly.

  He pushed his recliner down and stood up.

  The move evoked a tsunami of terror to flood my body and I scuttled backwards.

  "Give me that," he instructed, holding a hand out to me.

  My brows shot up. "My phone?"

  "Yes, your phone," he sneered. "Give it to me."


  Trembling, I walked over to him and placed it in his palm.

  Immediately, he began to scroll through my messages and call list.

  I didn’t understand why, considering he was swaying so much I doubted he could read in his state.

  But I didn’t dare move, knowing that if I walked out, this could turn messy.

  "Where's his number?" he demanded, gripping my phone in his huge hand.

  "Whose number, Dad?" I croaked out.

  "The lad sniffing around ya," he snarled. "The hotshot from the papers."

  My heart sank. "What?"

  His gaze flicked from my phone to me. "Fran, next door, said she saw a lad from your school driving around here," he slurred. "Said she saw him drop you home from school today." He turned his attention back to my phone. "Where is his number? Where are his texts? Who the fuck are you knocking around with? Is it him? That rugby asshole? The Kavanagh prick?"

  Dammit, Fran!

  "Nobody, Dad," I lied through my teeth. "I was sick in school today and Claire and her brother Hughie drove me home."

  "Hughie Biggs?" Dad hissed, swaying on his feet again. "That jumped-up gobshite? That's why you're walking about with a shit-eating grin on your face?"

  "What – no!" I shook my head and backed away. "I'm not with Hughie. I'm not with anyone."

  "I don’t believe you," he growled.

  "I'm not lying," I choked out. "I don’t have a boyfriend."

  "You don’t have to have a boyfriend to whore yourself," he hissed. "Ask your mother that."

  "I'm not seeing anyone," I strangled out, panicked. "I swear to god, I'm not!"

  Reaching out, he clamped a beefy hand on my shoulder and pressed down hard. "If you're lying to me –"

  "I'm not, Dad," I cried out, buckling under the force of his touch. "Please –"

  My words broke off when my father's fist connected with my cheek, hitting me so hard that my head snapped back from the force.

  Fight back, Shannon.

  Grab something.

  Anything.

  Do something.

  Pain scorched through my face, tears filled my eyes, and still, I did nothing.

  I didn’t fight back.

  I didn’t try to run.

  I just stood there.

  "Come here," he snarled. Keeping his hand on my shoulder, fingers digging into my bones, Dad marched me into the kitchen, not stopping until we were at the sink.