Done Deal (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 5)

by Max Henry

  “Do what?” I wriggle a little so that I face her a bit more, nudging my arse off the uncomfortable lump of steel beneath us.

  “Tell me about your weakness.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  She snorts. “Bollocks.”

  “Legit.” I chuckle. “I don’t. None other than you, anyway.” I place a kiss to the top of her head, wondering if she looks out at the same stars I do.

  “Admit it.” Lacey leans back to settle a gentle peck on the underside of my jaw. “You freaked out when you realised that everyone had tonight under control, and there was nothing left for you to do.”

  “No,” I correct her. “I freaked out when I realised that my useless humps of friends had gone off on their own goddamn tangent and completely ignored our plan.”

  “Your plan,” she stresses. “Whether you believe it or not, Johnson and Ed knew what they were doing.”

  “Dunno.” It could have gone south, fast. Still can.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” my girl asks. “Under the stars like you wished for us to be without anyone ruining our night?”

  I lift her face to mine, a small smile on my lips before I lean down and taste hers. “How did you know I wanted to do this tonight?”

  She rolls her eyes, grinning. “You told me, remember? When I left the last party with Maggie, you messaged and said you wished I was there under the stars with you.”

  I guess I did.

  For once, a wish came true. And if I had to pick only one, this would have been my favourite.

  “You think your dad is stressing about what we’re up to?” I tease.

  James never said a thing when we left the homestead, but I know from the narrow stare he gave me when I emerged with the blankets that he assumed the worst.

  Well. It’d only be the worst for him as Lacey’s father.

  For me, I’ve kind of got to admit it’s a boyfriend’s dream.

  “I’m not sure,” Lace answers thoughtfully. “You think your dad assumes the same?”

  “Without a doubt.” He was young once, too, rolling around in the grass with the girls. “I think he’d be disappointed if I hadn’t at least tried.”

  “That’s so clandestine,” she complains. “A man’s singular role is to bed his woman, huh?” She beats her chest and does a miserable caveman impersonation.

  I tickle her beneath the blankets until she laughs and wriggles enough that one slips free to allow the cold air across our heated flesh. Quickly tucking her back in, I nestle Lace even closer against my chest.

  Her thigh nudges my jeans, and her eyes widen at the undeniable bulge against the zipper.

  “A man’s role,” I tell her through a throat thick with desire, “is to love on his woman every way he can so she has no doubts about how he feels for her, or how she makes him feel, either.”

  “Is that so?” She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, one lazy finger tracing the lines of my throat.

  “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” Hooking the digit, she explores beneath the neckline of my shirt.

  “Touching me in a way that makes me wish I was naked.”

  Boldly shifting her hand to push a flat palm beneath the hem, she leans in, fingers grazing my contracting abs and whispers, “I can’t wait to see you naked.”

  We’ve kissed. We’ve fooled around and touched each other. Even went all the way this afternoon. But she’s right—we’ve never been one hundred per cent buck naked.

  The thought of it alone stirs something in my chest. It’s such an intimate sign of trust to expose yourself fully to another.

  I groan when her palm pivots, and she cups my dick through the jeans. A load lifted from Lacey tonight, and damn if it hasn’t made her more confident in what she wants.

  “You can tease me all you like,” I grumble, “but I’m not getting you naked on the back of my truck in the middle of a goddamn field party.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to.”

  “What are you expecting, then?”

  Her eyes light up, even in the relative dark. “I’m hoping you’ll utter my favourite line so we can take this further.”

  Her favourite line? I stare into those blue gems and wrack my brain for all the damn things I’ve said to her in the past, narrowing it down to the moments before we were intimate.

  The words slam into the forefront of my mind like a smack to the head.

  I jump one eyebrow and grin.

  Her hand stills on my junk in anticipation.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “Wanna go get lost?”

  COLT

  “I think we’re far enough away, now.” Greer shrugs her jacket tighter, one hand clasped in mine as she follows me down to a dilapidated shed that’s almost far enough from the party that we can’t hear the music anymore.

  “I want to make sure we’re not damn well interrupted again.”

  I’ve been waiting for weeks to discover this side of the gorgeous girl on my hip. Be damned if I’ll let some nosey hick ruin my chances at seeing it through.

  “You’re very presumptuous,” she teases when I pull her flush against me. “Who says I even want to mess around with you, Mr Williams?”

  “For the love of God, don’t call me that.” I do not need to think of my dad when I’m about to indulge. “And, for the record, this is not messing around.”

  “What exactly is it then?” Her tone drops, eyes hungry as they regard my mouth.

  “It’s discovering what heaven feels like.”

  The hay beneath our feet smells like earth and animals, the bitter night air biting at our exposed flesh. The scene is far from the perfection she deserves, but Greer doesn’t seem to care either when her hands lift to cup my face.

  Cherry and chocolate, is the flavour of the day, infused in our kiss as she sweeps her lips across mine, seeking a deeper connection with her tongue.

  I roam my hands beneath her jacket and caress the dip and swell of her hips and waist, my thumbs greedily massaging the side of her abdomen. Whatever Greer gifts me tonight, I know it won’t be enough to sate my need for her. This woman is patient and forgiving, compassionate enough to see past my flaws and the bullshit I present to the world to recognise the guy beneath.

  And what’s more, she likes him.

  God gifted me an angel. One who watched over me for years before the time came to do her magic. To hear such whimsical thoughts in my head is a foreign experience, but as I lift Greer and carry us across the barn-like structure to a corner more private, they fit.

  She is heaven to me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of her, her choices, or her decision to be mine. To me, she couldn’t be any better if I’d fashioned her from God’s clay myself.

  “Colt,” she pants in my ear, her fingers tangled in my hair. “I didn’t bring anything with me for this.”

  She’s so damn cute. “You take the pill, right?” Half the damn girls at school have been on it since they were fourteen for “cramps”.

  “I am, but you—”

  Finger to her lips to shush her, I link the fingers of my other hand through hers, palm to palm. “Trust me?”

  She nods, lips rubbing against my flesh.

  “Trust that I wouldn’t put you at risk?” I drop my finger from her mouth.

  “Yes, I trust you.” She rests her forehead against mine, emphasising her words.

  I run my hand down her chest, inside her open jacket and between the valley of her breasts. Her breath hitches as I pop the catch on her designer jeans and carefully lower the zipper.

  She’s fucking wet.

  I can’t help but groan as I push a finger through her slick heat. My heart rate kicks up, heat enveloping my skin as I force myself to lift my head and look her dead in the eye.

  “Tell me honestly, Greer. Do you trust me enough to fuck you bare?”

  I push my finger inside with perfect timing to feel her inner walls clench in anticipation. “Yes.�
�

  “Yes, what?” I rumble, stroking, and teasing. “I need you to give me permission in your own words, so there’s no misunderstanding here.”

  “Fuck.” Head tipped back, she takes a moment to enjoy my play. “Colt Matthias Williams, I need you to fuck me bare tonight.”

  All bets are off. Hearing those goddamn words from her kiss-swollen lips?

  All. Bets. Are. Fucking. Off.

  “Wherever you go,” I remind her as I drop her to her feet and strip the jacket from her shoulders. “I’m with you.”

  Her feverish hands make fast work of my shirt, the cold air an icy brush against my skin as I stand before her naked from the waist up. She’s a picture, standing frazzled and flushed, greedily consuming the vision before her. I reach forth and push both thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, yanking them down so hard she sways in my hold. Hands to my shoulders to steady herself, Greer steps free of first her boots and then points each foot, in turn, to help me get the damn denim off her legs.

  It was as though somewhere in the back of her mind she wanted this to happen.

  I remove her shirt to discover my angel dressed in a perfect matching set of emerald green lingerie. The brassiere sits neatly beneath her breasts, offering the plump swells for my appreciation. I bend down and kiss one and then the other, teasing my fingertips in the back of her panties while I do.

  She gasps, hooking a leg around mine when I squeeze her flesh, inviting me closer.

  The cold timber wall of the shed must be ice against her back, yet she doesn’t complain when I pin her like a favourite art piece, appreciating the beauty before me.

  “What?” Her palms rest against my neck.

  “Taking a moment to be grateful for what I have is all.”

  She smiles, one thumb brushing my lips. “Had long enough?” Her hips rock against me.

  “I guess so.” With a wicked grin, I reach beneath her arse to release my jeans. It takes some wriggling, but I finally get the damn things past my hips and below my arse without having to set her down again.

  The cold does nothing to help keep my dick hard, but one look at the warm brown eyes watching me, welcoming me, and I’m ready to go.

  Her eyebrows peak when the head of my cock nudges her heat through the barrier of her panties. Maintaining eye contact, I hook the damn things to one side and repeat the action—this time, flesh on flesh.

  Her eyes close, a satisfied sigh sliding free of her lips.

  “Look at me,” I demand.

  She complies.

  “Now tell me how it feels.” I rock my hips enough that the head sinks into her heat.

  “More.”

  It takes everything in me to hold my hips steady. “That’s not what I asked you to say.”

  “It feels…” She sighs out her nose, pushing down to seek more. “There aren’t words, Colt.”

  “Yes, there fucking are.” I nudge sharply, impaling half my length inside her. “It feels right, Greer. Like there was no other outcome but this.” I sink the rest of the way, eliciting a groan from both of us. “It feels as though I want to stay there forever.”

  I pull back and fill her again, repeating the motion with a little more speed each time. She circles her hips as I do, seeking depth, which I happily provide.

  Fingers tight against the back of my scalp, thighs clamped around my hips, she finally finds words of her own.

  “It feels as though I’m complete, here with you, and nothing else matters.”

  She nailed it. This is so much more than sex. I’m not fucking Greer or making love to her; I complete our puzzle, slotting everything together how it should be.

  Nothing else does matter. Only what we have, right here, right now.

  Us. Together. Intimate and whole.

  “Tell me again whose girl you are,” I demand, the familiar tingle starting low in my gut and spreading south.

  “Yours.” Her face and neck are flushed, shoulders driving back into the wall to push for more. “I’m your girl, Colt.”

  The tingle explodes, and so do I, marking and claiming all in one shuddered thrust. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

  LACEY

  I’m hot. Way too hot for a winter’s morning. Opening my eyes toward the window, I note that the amount of sun streaming in indicates it’s well after breakfast. I may as well rise, but first…

  My stomach drops. There are more than just my legs tangled on this bed.

  Whipping my head fast enough to the right to get an immediate stitch, I pale at the warm eyes staring lazily back at me.

  “Hey, baby.”

  Last night comes rushing back in. The party—kissing on the truck—the drive home—fooling around on my bed—making love for a second, much slower time—and then…

  And then?

  “Your dad said he didn’t want to wake you.”

  “What?” I frown at Tuck, totally confused about how he’s alive if Dad knows he’s in my bed.

  “You fell asleep after I tired you out,” he teases with a wiggle of one eyebrow. “So, I got dressed and made myself a hot drink since I had too much on my mind, and was out in the living room when he got home.”

  “Did he… Does he know?” I narrow my eyes, turning my head a little.

  Tuck shrugs. He actually shrugs. How can he be so blasé about this?

  “He told me I could crash in Colt’s room, but then we discovered he was in there with Greer.”

  I gasp, much to his amusement.

  “So, I guess he figured he doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to complaining about who’s in yours if Colt has company.”

  “Poor Dad.” I chuckle. “His kids grew up so fast.”

  “Bound to happen, baby.” Tuck rolls closer, and to my delight, I realise he’s shirtless.

  “We need to get up and have breakfast,” I state, sliding out from beneath the sheets.

  “Eating is overrated.” Tuck flops to his back, arms outstretched above his head.

  I take a moment to appreciate him; knees leant against the foot of my mattress. A wicked grin teases his lips, his eyes alive with delight.

  “No,” I say firmly, pushing away.

  But my guy is quicker.

  Before I can get a safe distance from the bed, Tuck has managed to jack-knife himself and flip onto his knees, then lunging for where I stand. His palms skates across my hip and slides down to where he manages to hook his thick fingers around the back of my thigh.

  I release a startled yelp, seriously concerned for the safety of his neck as I go crashing over his back. He lifts his right shoulder, flipping me off his left side so that I’m a bouncing, giggling mess on the bed.

  “You know what?” Strands of his sun-bleached hair fall into his eye as he hovers over me, weight supported on a muscular arm.

  I run my fingers shamelessly over the swell. “What?”

  “We can do this any time we want now.”

  I stop my exploration of his exquisite male physique and turn my head to hold Tuck’s gaze.

  “You officially live out here now,” he explains. “No more back and forth or arguing over where you go to school.” Reverent fingers trace the side of my face. “No more hiding how we feel around our parents. You can stay at mine, and I’ll stay here.” He pauses to smile. “This is the new norm, baby.”

  Damn. “I love it.”

  The past months have been hell on everyone, but as promised, we’ve reached that horizon line. The end is in sight, and, as much as I don’t want to get my hopes up too soon, everything appears to settle down.

  Libby fled back to Riverbourne with her tail between her legs, Richard content to keep her in her place. Their social feeds have been quiet, which in itself is an admission of defeat.

  Arthur phoned Christian shortly before we left the party last night and reported that everything was fine. He was happy to take the night off and stay in to contemplate where his future heads now that Libby isn’t a driving factor.

  The las
t thing I remember, the defectors from the Chosen were still at Dee’s.

  “Where did everyone else end up last night?”

  Tuck smirks. “Not the topic I thought we’d switch to while like this, but okay.” He rocks back to kneel beside my legs. “I think most of them crashed at Dee’s place.” He runs a palm over the back of his head, mussing up his sleep-strewn hair.

  I rise to my knees as well, pushing up to place a brief kiss on his full lips. “I’ll do that better once I’ve brushed my teeth.”

  He chuckles as I climb off the bed in search of clean clothes. With my back to him as I stand at my drawers, I drop the PJ shorts and tug on clean underwear, not caring in the slightest that I gave him the perfect view of my bare arse.

  We’ve seen every inch of each other, now. Acting shy doesn’t seem logical.

  Tuck rises from the bed and steps into his jeans, tugging the denim up his legs and securing the dome. He takes a step toward me and leans down to retrieve his shirt, but I beat him to it, stealing the worn soft fabric to pull over myself.

  “Damn.” He quirks his lips in a lazy yet appreciative grin. “What am I supposed to wear?”

  “Throw your jumper on.” I shrug. “It’s cold enough that you won’t cook in it.”

  With a shake of his head, he obliges, tugging the hole-ridden wool knit over his head.

  I stick my finger in the tempting hole at his ribs and trace the striations of his muscle. “Perfect.”

  “I’m only doing it because you look fucking hot in my shirt.”

  “That’s the idea.” I flash him a cheeky grin and tug the door open.

  Greer freezes midway to the bathroom. “Oh, hey.” Her cheeks go instantly pink.

  “Morning.” I lift an eyebrow at my brother as he saunters out from his room in nothing but a pair of sleep pants, hair a fine mess on his head while he yawns.

  “Hey, sis.” Colt’s tired eyes snap instantly open when he spots the shadow at my back. “What the fuck?” Ice-blue eyes shift to mine. “Does Dad know?”

  “Apparently.” I follow the smell of coffee down the hall and find Dad setting a fresh brew on the kitchen table.