Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  As we got in the car and put our seatbelts on, Jaz said, “I texted my mom and told her I was studying at the library. For some reason, I don’t think she’d like me going to a boy’s house.” She brought those dark eyes to me, and my stomach hardened.

  And something twitched in my pants when I thought about having her in my room, but that was something best left forgotten.

  “Your mom doesn’t want you alone with boys?” I gave her a smirk as I started the car and drove us off, away from Midpark High, away from the people who, I hoped, hadn’t really seen us together.

  I mean, I could just be driving her home like a gentleman. It’s what I would say if anyone asked me about it on Monday.

  It was a lie, but…sometimes you had to lie. Sometimes lying was for the best.

  “My mom is…let’s just say protective of me when it comes to guys,” Jaz said, staring out of the window, a pensive look on her beautiful, tan face. “She doesn’t want me dating, and she definitely doesn’t want me alone with any attractive guys—” She abruptly stopped, her eyes widening as they darted to me, as if she realized what she just said.

  Attractive. She’d called me attractive.

  I drove with one hand, hiding my smile with the other.

  Jaz’s voice lowered an octave when she muttered, “Please pretend I didn’t just say that. Not that I’m saying you’re not attractive—not that I’m saying you are attractive…oh, God, I’m just going to shut up now.” She slunk in the leather seat beside me, looking like she wanted to shrink into herself and cease to exist.

  “So I take it you haven’t dated much,” I managed to say as I grinned like an idiot behind my hand. It shouldn’t make me feel so good, hearing her call me attractive, but it did. It so did, even though it was wrong.

  “Here and there, a little, mostly behind my mom’s back,” Jaz said. Her backpack rested on her lap, and she ran her hands over it. It was worn, old, some of its fabric fraying at the seams. Not a typical backpack for Midpark, and I couldn’t help but wonder where she’d moved to, where she lived.

  Guess I’d find out, once I drove her home—unless she planned on walking home, which I wouldn’t advise, since it got dark so early.

  Did she wear torn clothes and have a ratty old backpack for style?

  “But nothing steady, nothing long-term,” she finished. “Which is fine, because couples come and go in high school at the speed of light.” Jaz now traced circles on her backpack as she glanced to me. “What about you? I bet you date a lot.”

  “Not as much as you’d expect,” I said, wishing I meant it. Wishing things were different. It wasn’t the first time I’d wished things were different, but it was the first time I wished things were different for a girl.

  We continued to chat as I drove us to my house, a newly-built three-story home with painted brick and natural wooden accents. The house itself was small compared to some of the mansions in Midpark, but it was far from the smallest, too. We had no fence, no gate, so I was able to drive right up to the three-car garage. I had no siblings, so I was able to pull into the third spot, right next to my mom’s car.

  It wasn’t like she was able to drive, so I didn’t know why we still kept it. Her keys were locked away, someplace she couldn’t find them.

  Jaz and I got out, and I prayed that my mom was still having a good day. On her bad days, my dad called a nurse to take care of her during the day while we were gone. This morning she’d been okay…and since I was having company over, I prayed she’d still be okay.

  I was the first to walk into the house, the first to look around, holding my breath as I felt Jaz come in behind me. With a hand on the strap around my shoulders, I called out, “Mom? Are you awake?”

  “Of course I am, honey. It’s three in the afternoon,” my mom said, her voice coming from the kitchen.

  Glancing back at Jaz, I slowly led her through the house, knowing my mom would be nosy and try to peek in my room if I didn’t introduce her right away.

  Our kitchen was a wide-open space with lots of cabinets, all of them painted a very light grey. The counters were a black marble, veins of white running through them. There was a large island, where the sink was, along with hanging lights over it. Mom stood in an apron, something cooking in the oven.

  “I’m baking a pie for later,” she rattled off, stopping only when she glanced at me and Jaz. “Oh, I didn’t know we’d be having company!” Mom sounded happy; I’d take this over her bad days anytime.

  “Mom,” I said, gesturing to Jaz, “this is Jaz. Jaz, my mom.”

  My mom moved around the island, wiping her hands on the apron. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a bit of white smudged on her forehead, somehow. She held out a hand to Jaz, saying, “It’s good to meet you. Are you his girlfriend?”

  I was nearly knocked over with the bluntness of her, and I let out a nervous chuckle. “Mom, stop.” Heat flushed my cheeks; I didn’t get embarrassed easily, but mothers tended to do that. Say the wrong things, assume the wrong things. It was something they collectively got together and decided to do, to embarrass all of their children.

  “Oh, right. You kids don’t use labels these days,” she laughed out. “Would either of you like a snack?”

  Shaking my head softly, I said, “No thanks, Mom. We’re going upstairs to study.” I led Jaz away from the kitchen and to the stairwell, doing my best to ignore the way my mom laughed to herself and said something along the lines of so that’s what they’re calling it.

  God. How embarrassing.

  Jaz said nothing as I led her to my room, and she continued to say nothing as I shut the door behind us, pretty much locking my mom out. She wouldn’t barge in, but who knew if she’d try to feed us.

  “Sorry about her,” I said, hoping my mom seemed normal enough that I wouldn’t have to sit and explain the whole situation to her.

  “It’s fine,” Jaz said, glancing at me as she set her bag down on the floor. Her jacket came next. “Your mom seems nice.”

  Thank goodness today was a good day, otherwise…well, we would’ve had to go to the library to study, and that invited a whole slew of other problems.

  My room was nothing special. I had a few canvases hanging on the walls, a flat screen TV facing my bed, along with the typical bedroom stuff. Dressers, a desk, a walk-in closet. It was normal around Midpark, anyway.

  As I watched Jaz study my room, I couldn’t help but wonder what her room looked like. She didn’t seem to be the kind of girl who liked pink fluffy things, and I wondered what her style was like, what her sheets looked like…I should not be imagining her sheets, or what could be done in them.

  Nope. Had to get my mind out of the gutter.

  “It’s not much,” I said, moving to set my backpack on my desk. I hung my jacket on the doorknob to the closet. “But it’s my room.”

  “It’s big,” she said, and then it looked like she caught herself. “A little bigger than mine, I mean.” She folded her arms over her chest—bad place to look, Archer, I told myself—and slowly met those dark eyes with mine. “I don’t like the empty space.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just feels…like wasted space.” She shrugged. “I also find the houses around here to be ridiculously big. No one needs a house that’s the size of a school.”

  I found myself grinning.

  I couldn’t say what it was about this girl, but I liked her. I liked her too much.

  Had to bring in a chair from the next room over, but I situated us both at my desk. Within ten minutes, I had out our history textbook, along with my notebook. I was able to pull some blank notecards from one of the drawers in the desk and handed them to her. She’d write them down. I knew how our history tests went by now, I knew what was important to know and what wasn’t.

  As we worked, I tried not to stare at her too much. The more I looked at her, the more beautiful I found her. There was only two feet between us, and yet it both seemed too far and not far en
ough. I knew I shouldn’t let my mind linger on this girl at all, and yet…I was like a dog with a bone. I couldn’t help it.

  She smelled like fruit, like some kind of berry. Was it her soap? Her shampoo? Was it weird that I was thinking about this while she was intent on writing? Breathing her in only made my mind wander more.

  Her black, wavy hair fell over her shoulder, her dark brown eyes focused. Her full lips were parted ever so slightly, and I hated myself for wanting to feel those lips on every inch of my body.

  Wrong. It was wrong. I shouldn’t.

  But I did, hence the issue here.

  “I’ve never studied with notecards before,” Jaz was busy saying as my mind wandered. “Seems like a lot of work.” She extended her arm, rolling her wrist as she held onto the pen.

  “It is,” I said, barely able to contain myself. I thought I sounded normal—I hoped I sounded normal, given the fact my mind was currently on what Jaz looked like beneath those clothes. “But it’s worth it.”

  I might seem like a good guy, but I wasn’t. Right now, I really wasn’t.

  She let out a sigh, her mouth curled into a grin. Jaz clearly had a comeback ready, but the moment she turned her head and looked at me, nothing came out. Suddenly she felt closer than she did mere moments ago.

  Wait, that was because I leaned towards her, scooting to the side on my chair to get closer to her.

  Our faces were less than a foot apart now; I could feel her breath hot on my face, and my lower gut warmed. I wanted to touch her, but I knew that if I did, I’d throw all rational thought out of the window. Once I touched her, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  Which was ridiculous, because we’d just met, but this…the feelings inside me were too strong to deny.

  I’d never felt like this before. Maybe it was simply because I knew I couldn’t have her, and that made me want her. Maybe it was because I knew it could never be between us. A terrible reality, but it was mine.

  Jaz was unable to say anything, her black eyes dropping to my mouth as her lips puckered. She turned her body on her chair, our knees leaning against each other’s. I had one arm on the desk, the other on my lap, and it took so much restraint from me to keep myself back.

  Seriously. Holding myself back had never been so hard.

  “You get very serious about your notecards, don’t you?” Jaz asked, her voice nothing but a breathy sigh. I had the feeling she wasn’t talking strictly about notecards, either.

  “I do,” I agreed, inching closer to her.

  Bad, bad idea. Press the brakes, take a step back. Get up and walk away. Do anything but this.

  Did I? Did I stop myself even though that’s what the logical side of my brain was trying to tell me? The answer to that would be a resounding no.

  “We should focus on the notecards, maybe,” Jaz whispered, though she didn’t pull away. She didn’t turn her head nor break the spell she had over me. I noticed she leaned in just as I did.

  I wondered if she wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss her. If she did, we were both in trouble, because once passion was unbottled, it very rarely could be ignored. This was not a good time for me, and yet I couldn’t tear my eyes off her parted lips.

  They looked so supple, so soft and inviting.

  “You’re right,” I whispered, the hand on my lap moving to hers, touching her knee gently at first before curling around it. She didn’t move away, didn’t jerk her knee away from me. “We should focus.” My words came out in a whisper, and I fought to keep myself under control. Why was there something about this girl that drove me crazy? She shouldn’t. This was supposed to be a studying session, not a hookup.

  The hand holding onto the pen set it down softly, and she turned her body toward mine. My hand slid up her leg a bit, soaking in her warmth through her jeans. Jaz nodded, but she was unable to say anything else—mostly because I’d closed the distance between us and pressed my mouth to hers, swallowing those soft, supple lips.

  If she smelled good, she tasted twice as good. The way her lips felt on mine, how they melded against me as she kissed me back, blew her strawberry scent out of the water. I immediately felt a twitch in my dick, and I knew right then and there that I’d failed in keeping myself away from her.

  I really was a bad dude, with everything, but I couldn’t help it.

  Jaz kissed me back softly, tentatively, and yet I could feel the hunger resting in her core, how she was trying to hold herself back just as I was. The hand that had held onto the pen moved to my shoulder, and she parted her legs more as she wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled her top half closer to me.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I was using the hand on her leg to pull her onto my lap, never breaking our lip lock. With her legs parted, she fit on my lap perfectly, her slender body curving against mine, the fullness of her ass putting just enough pressure on me to make my cock harden even more.

  Yeah. I now sported a raging boner, but it didn’t dissuade her or me from continuing.

  I had both hands on her hips, my fingertips grazing the top hem of her jeans and touching her bare skin. Jaz shuddered into the kiss and started to rock her hips, grinding her midsection against mine. I ran my tongue over her bottom lip, and she parted them, allowing my tongue entrance. The moment my tongue touched hers, a jolt of heat coursed down my spine, and my grip on her hips tightened.

  Right now it would take an apocalypse to get me to let this girl go.

  The way she moved those hips…she had to have done this before. Her mom might not have wanted her to date, but it was clear she had to have done other things. You didn’t move your body like that innocently, didn’t know how to wrestle tongues when you were a virgin.

  Maybe it was stupid, but I didn’t like the thought of Jaz with anyone else. Just a fleeting moment of possessiveness over a girl that wasn’t even mine—stupid. So stupid.

  I didn’t know how to be smart in times like this.

  I couldn’t say how long we were lost in each other, how many times she ground her midsection on mine, stoking the ache in my balls and the throbbing at the tip of my cock, but it was a while—and I was so lost in her, I nearly came right then and there. In my pants, like some kind of junior high noob who’d just seen his first tit.

  I had to pull her hips off me—thereby effectively yanking that luscious mouth off mine, too—to stop myself from coming. Staring into her eyes, noting the flushed skin on her cheeks, I knew she was as worked up as me, and I knew we couldn’t just stop now.

  Guess we could, but where would the fun in that be?

  My arms curled around her backside, and I lifted her up, holding her to my chest as I brought us to the bed. I laid her down on top, watching her all the while, and she didn’t say no, didn’t stop me. Her eyes held a heavy desire, lusting for me—but the craving went both ways.

  Instinct. This was all instinct, as if this girl called out to my baser animal, the man inside who was helpless against her. Logic told me to stop, but the animal inside said take, take, take.

  The animal inside would win.

  My mouth connected with hers again, and I ran both hands up her shirt, cupping her breasts over her bra. I felt her arching her back under me, felt her hands tugging at my shirt. My hands only left her breasts to answer her prayer and take off my shirt, dropping it to the floor. Her shirt came next, and her bra soon after that.

  If she was gorgeous with clothes on, she was drop-dead fucking brilliant with them off. The most beautiful, the most alluring, the prettiest I’d ever seen. Her breasts were tinged in pink, heaving with every hard breath she took, her nipples hardened into points.

  I could’ve come in my pants right then and there, just looking at her.

  I didn’t, though. Thank God.

  I didn’t wait to take off the rest of her clothing, needing to see her in her full glory, needing to know how she looked with her legs spread before me. This was wrong, and it was moving way too fast, but I didn’t dare stop myself now. We’d alre
ady passed the point of no return.

  Holy hell, was she stunning. With her legs spread, she was a fucking goddess.

  My dick, if it wasn’t already rock-hard, would’ve jumped to attention the minute my eyes raked across the pink, slick folds of skin at her apex.

  It was time. I couldn’t wait anymore. I couldn’t keep dancing around the bush like it didn’t exist—in this case, the bush was Jaz. She wasn’t bushy, though, she kept her entire body smooth, not a single piece of hair anywhere on her legs or near her pussy.

  She was flawless.

  I could not tear my jeans off fast enough. Once I was free of everything, I scrambled to get a condom from my nightstand, tearing it open and sliding it on, all the while keen that she could theoretically stop me. She could tell me no. I wasn’t a rapist; I would pull back and stop myself.

  I really didn’t want to, though.

  Situating myself between her legs, she gave me no resistance. She didn’t tell me to stop. Jaz simply shut those dark, luring eyes and arched her back, telling me she was ready. She wanted me.

  She’d regret it eventually, but I was certain we both would at this point. This was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was too horny, too needy, to pull back and stop before things got bad—and they would get bad, mark my words.

  The tip of my cock poked her entrance, and I let out a ragged moan as I slipped inside of her, inch by inch, taking her in one fluid motion. The way her body felt wrapped around me was heaven. There was no better feeling in the world. None. My body hunched over hers, and I started to rock my hips, dragging my length in and out of her.

  It was right when I was starting to lose myself in the act when there was a soft knock on the door, accompanied by my mom’s bright voice, “The pie is almost done. I could bake you guys some cookies—”

  My thrusting paused the moment I heard the knocking, and I had to wait a few seconds to make sure it wouldn’t sound completely obvious that Jaz and I were in the middle of having sex. “No, Mom, we’re good. Thanks.” I sounded a bit short, but that was because I was currently balls-deep in Jaz, who looked like she was both amused and mortified.