Her Brawlers: A high school bully romance (Bad Boys of Jameson High Book 2)

by Taylor Blaine

  I could run my hands over my skin and not feel grit or grease which removed a huge amount of my insecurities.

  I didn’t smell like pee or body odor anymore and that made me so much more comfortable. I even allowed myself a few minutes of standing in the hot spray as I relished the water pounding on my muscles. Everything hurt, but at least I was clean.

  After a few minutes of indulgence, I turned off the water and climbed out, using a towel from the stack in a recessed shelf to the side of the toilet.

  Wrapping the thick, plush towel around me, I inhaled, grateful to smell anything but my captivity.

  I could probably sleep for a few days, now that I was a bit more stable and not being held prisoner by Blaze. I was safe. I could feel I was safe and that meant the world to me.

  I pulled the borrowed sweats back on, grateful they had a clean feel that the bra and shorts didn’t have. I glanced in the mirror and grimaced. It didn’t matter how I adjusted the sweatshirt; you could see my braless state clearly through the hanging material. Lovely.

  A toothbrush rested on the shelf beneath the mirror and I borrowed it, using a brand-new tube of toothpaste to help get the taste of vomit and stress out of my mouth.

  Feeling like a new person, albeit one without a bra and very aware of that fact, I turned off the light and left the bunker, running my fingers through my thick, wet hair. I really wanted to relax, just melt away from the anxiety of the last week and forget who I was for just a few hours.

  The lights had been dimmed to where only one side light shone down on the kitchenette sink, the light diffusing as it spread through the bunker.

  For a moment, I couldn’t locate Stryker. He climbed down from the middle bunk and glanced me over, his eyes noticeably pausing at my chest. Without missing a beat, he motioned toward the bathroom. “Are you finished in there? I need one.”

  My mouth suddenly dry, I nodded and blinked as he walked past, closing the door behind him.

  I slapped my hand to my forehead and moved toward the lower bunk. I wasn’t in any condition to climb up to the top of the three and Stryker had clearly claimed the middle.

  We hadn’t talked yet, both of us acting like we hadn’t fought the last time we’d seen each other. Both of us skirting the issues and the barbed-wire tension tripping us up.

  I had a feeling the only way to dissipate the tension was to either get away from him, or screw the daylights out of him. I wasn’t sure if either option was realistic right then. Both had their terrifying features and I wasn’t above considering the possibilities.

  I pulled the sheets back from their tucked in positions and slid my feet into their cool depths. I hadn’t slept or sat on anything but hard floor, hard chairs, and a hard metal bench-style seat in a van in a week. My muscles felt like they had turned to jello and I let my head rest solidly on the pillow tucked under the bottom sheet. What an interesting concept and one I didn’t hate. I actually liked that the pillow stayed in place, even as I wiggled around to get the pressure off parts of me I hadn’t known were sore.

  I couldn’t hear the water running with the bathroom carved into the rock of the cave. I couldn’t prepare myself for when he was coming out. I couldn’t do much without a warning. Heat flushed through me again at the thought of him standing in the shower – where I’d been – naked.

  Let me rethink that… I’d been naked in there as well.

  Suddenly overheated, I reached up to unzip the sweatshirt but stopped. I didn’t have anything on underneath and the last thing I needed was to lie there with my breasts hanging out. I suddenly wasn’t comfortable lying in bed, as if waiting for him to come out and join me. There was too much vulnerability as I lay there.

  I swung my legs out of the sheets and placed my feet back on the painted concrete floor. The cool floor helped me control some of the desire raging through me.

  I had to get things in hand. How embarrassing would it be for Gunner and Brock to show up and see me in that condition? I couldn’t even comprehend it.

  Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened and I inhaled sharply.

  I couldn’t move from where I was. I had to sit there on the bed like I’d been expecting him. It wasn’t a couch, but I could act like it.

  Stryker came out dressed in a pair of jeans that hung off his hips, revealing the indent of muscles at his waist and the muscles bulging around his spine. He padded across the floor, a towel looped around his neck, both ends hanging teasingly past his pectorals.

  After a cleaning, a proper cleaning that didn’t involve me and a washcloth, his wounds looked less severe. At least that offered me some relief.

  He brought up the end of a towel and rubbed at his still-damp hair, turning toward me. “Did you need anything?”

  Yes. But I didn’t say it. I shook my head. “No, thanks.” I couldn’t demand what I wanted. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted. That area was not in my arsenal of expertise. I wouldn’t know how to ask for it, if I did.

  Rather than pass me and climb up the end ladder to the middle bunk, Stryker grabbed a chair from the table and swung it into place where he faced me on the lower bunk from only two feet away.

  The sudden proximity made me pull back. I couldn’t go anywhere without it being obvious I was running from him. My pride demanded I stay where I was.

  Gripping the edge of the bunk, I kicked my feet back, crossing them at the ankle and leaning forward. I wouldn’t appear cowardly, no matter what.

  Stryker sat, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He let his legs sprawl in front of him, decimating the distance between us as his left leg came within inches of my own.

  We stared at each other, accepting the challenge not to look away.

  Without breaking eye contact, Stryker arched an eyebrow. “So, what happened last time? You started the fight on purpose, right?” The towel moved to the side as he scratched his neck, revealing a small white square that must have been a bandage.

  I grabbed onto whatever bravado I had left and I lifted my chin. “Yeah, so what?” But that wasn’t enough, and I knew it. I couldn’t sit there any longer and I pushed myself from the edge of the bed, moving toward the end of the room opposite the door. I stopped by a posted list of inventories, unseeing the tightly typed font.

  The chair creaked when he stood and I could feel him walking toward me, stalking me with his stealthy movements.

  I whirled around, the wet ends of my hair beating against the back of my arm as it hit. He moved closer; his head tilted in such a way that he could see me every step. He was on guard in case I ran. I felt stalked, like a prey animal left out to pasture.

  “So? So, what? Just so? That’s all you have to say to me?” He got closer and closer, the pull between us magnetic, almost painfully so.

  I pushed away from him, moving backward until my back hit the wall behind me and I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t run. I wouldn’t. I wasn’t afraid of him.

  No, I was afraid of what he made me feel.

  “What do you want from me?” I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms, unintentionally pulling the material tight across my breasts. It was too late and I couldn’t undo it, so I left them as they were and watched as Stryker noticed it, too.

  He moved the last bit between us and reached out, bracing his arms on either side of me and gazing down. From his position, he had the perfect view down the partially unzipped sweatshirt to see the cleavage I unwittingly created with my folded arms.

  His eyes grew slumberous as he looked at me. Leaning on one arm, Stryker brought one finger under my chin and tilted my head back until he could stare into my eyes. My chest rose and fell with each breath.

  “Ah, Gray, the question isn’t what do I want from you. The question is what don’t I want.” He left his mouth partially open just a bit and I couldn’t stop staring at the sensual curve of his lower lip, even as he followed the path of his finger with his eyes.

  He traced the slope of my neck to the hollow betwe
en my collar bones. He paused there, as if feeling my pulse beat frantically against his touch. The warm tip of his finger slid lower down my chest, careful yet constant, slipping further and further, closer and closer to my cleavage.

  Stryker raised his gaze to mine, holding me hostage in a way I didn’t want to escape. His finger dipped down into the shadow of my breasts and my breath hitched. He stopped and then slowly removed his fingers, the chill from their absence annoyingly obvious.

  “Why do you keep bucking the line?” His eyes searched me, growing from desirous and gentle to angry.

  “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.” What did that mean? Right then, what exactly was I saying?

  “I’m not saying you do.” He dropped his hand and turned away from me, unaware what the sight of his ass in his jeans did to my already cartwheeling stomach.

  “Then what are you saying, Stryker?” I dropped my hands to my own sides, exasperated with the entire conversation and the way his touch made me feel.

  He stopped walking, as if lost in thought. After ten seconds, he turned to me, his eyes intense. He closed the few feet back to me and grabbed my shoulders. “I want you out of my head. Get out of my head, Gray.” The last part was almost a plea.

  I slapped my hands on his chest, the only thing I could reach from the pinned position he had me in. “You get out of mine!”

  As if hearing what I said with his body, Stryker jolted and then slammed me to his chest, wrapping his fist in my hair and then tugging my head back.

  With my neck exposed and my back bent over his arm, Stryker pressed his lips to mine. The electric connection could have blown me off my feet, if he wasn’t holding me in place. My legs weakened as our mouths danced and warred with each other, giving, taking, and giving again.

  He delved the depths of me, giving me space to breathe and then taking it away. I could feel my blood pounding in my head and out to my nerve endings then rushing back in again.

  Before I could sink to the floor in a puddle of longing, Stryker scooped me into his arms, his lips still pressed to mine, dancing in an age-old pairing that I neither questioned nor wanted to stop. We moved to the lower bunk, conveniently the only place to sit, if we didn’t want to perch on a table chair.

  He pulled me on his lap as he sank onto the mattress, his touch intoxicating as he spread his hands across my back and down to my waist.

  I ignored the tingles of pain where he hit spots that were injured. There was no room in that moment for pain. Just pleasure as his thumbs brushed my skin by slipping under the hem of the sweatshirt. His hands slid completely under the material and the warmth of our skin touching shocked my chilled flesh. Even the hot shower hadn’t been able to eradicate all of the cold.

  Was it possible Stryker’s touch was going to do what nothing else had?

  His fingers roamed upwards while he continued kissing me. My hands anchored around his neck as I held myself in place. I wasn’t sure what being ravaged looked like, but if it was anything like he was doing to me right then, I could be ravaged for a decade without pausing.

  Then his fingers brushed the underswell of my breasts and I froze. My eyes snapped open and I jerked back from kissing, completing the disconnection.

  Stryker paused, careful not to move further which left me in an awkward position as his hands were directly under my unrestrained breasts and I sat on his lap.

  We stared into each other’s eyes and I realized the more I breathed, the closer my breasts got to his hands. That both intrigued and worried me.

  Stryker tilted his head slightly to the side as he considered me. Then, his voice husky and broken, he asked, “Have you done this before?”

  How did I answer when I had no idea what we were even doing?

  Chapter 16

  Gray

  “Do what?” Acting stupid might be the only way I could save my pride. I’d made out with Blaze, but every time he’d gone to feel me up, I’d moved away from him, bothered by how focused he’d been on getting in my pants.

  Stryker stared down at me, letting me avoid his gaze with patience until I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. He arched an eyebrow, leaving his hands still, his skin scorching me with every breath.

  Was it wrong that I wanted him to move his fingers up just a little more? It felt wrong, but it also felt right. I was definitely in danger of getting in trouble with him.

  “Gray, you know what we’re doing here.” He didn’t leave room for doubt and something in his tone triggered the hairs along the back of my neck to stand in awareness, much like my nipples pulled taut, threatening to rip through the sweatshirt to get to him.

  My body strained for him. Something was wrong with me. People didn’t feel like that. I didn’t want to breathe as the tips of his fingers grazed the skin of my lower breasts. I stared up at him, parts of me I’d never really acknowledged before swollen and hot.

  “Have you?” His eyes darkened as he lowered his gaze to my lips and then lower to take in my cleavage peeking from the zippered front.

  “I’m… no. I haven’t.” Would his hands go up to cup me? I wanted to beg him to touch me, to make my body scream and to let it down slowly from the hungry high I was reaching.

  Stryker closed his eyes as if he too were in pain. He slid his hands from my rib cage to my waist and leaned his forehead toward me until it rested carefully against mine.

  Wait, what was going on? Why did he stop? I didn’t want him to stop. Had I not been clear? “I was saying I haven’t done it, not that I don’t want to.” I stared at him from the close proximity.

  He gently turned his head to the side, rolling our faces away from each other and then lifting away from me. “No, it’s not that.” He sighed; the sound frustrated but controlled.

  “I don’t understand.” I wasn’t ashamed about being a virgin and inexperienced. It was just part of who I was, but I certainly didn’t plan on it making me undesirable. I shifted from his lap to the bunk he sat on.

  I cleared my throat another time for the evening. I shook my head and stared down at my feet. “I… You don’t want me?” The question destroyed my pride and I couldn’t believe I was even asking. He wasn’t the only guy in the world. I could probably get Gunner or Brock, if I wanted.

  But the disinterest from Stryker made me doubt my abilities. What if I wasn’t what I’d always thought? If he was seeking payback from kissing Gunner, he’d scored a point. He was winning.

  “That’s not it.” Stryker rubbed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I don’t do virgins.” He wryly chuckled. “Do has dual meanings here.”

  I couldn’t laugh. “You don’t do virgins? What in the ever-loving hell are you talking about?”

  Stryker leaned my way, stretching out an arm to wrap around my shoulders. I dodged his touch, needing to keep my wits about me. He had a way of erasing my control and thoughts when he touched me.

  I stood, pacing back and forth as I tried to figure out how I’d gone from melting on his lap to feeling every inch of the frigid prude I was rumored to be. Except… I was almost begging him for it.

  “Gray, don’t be mad, okay? I just… it’s a mess with virgins. It would be even worse with you.” Stryker curved his lips like he was trying to smile, but his attempt faded when I snapped my gaze to his face and stared at him, shocked by his choice of words.

  Did he have any idea what he’d just said? It would be worse to sleep with me than other virgins which he’d just declared to be off-limits.

  I didn’t understand. How was it possible that I wanted him as badly as I did and yet… he didn’t want me? How was that fair?

  The need to escape reared inside me and I spun, searching the bunker for a way out, a way to get distance between Stryker and myself. I needed to get away. I couldn’t believe I was stuck in that kind of a situation.

  I gasped. Where had my easy breathing gone? I couldn’t breathe. Oh, shit, I blinked back tears. I didn’t want him to see my cry. I’d been t
hrough enough the last week. The last thing I needed was for Stryker to see me crying after he’d just rejected me.

  Heat flushed my skin after I realized he didn’t want me and I was still in there. I unzipped the sweatshirt, desperate to get cooler. Desperate to get more control over myself. If I could cool off, maybe I could get myself in hand.

  The sweatshirt fell down my arms and I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and breathing in my nose and out my mouth.

  A muffled groan came from Stryker.

  I turned toward him, curious what could get any kind of reaction out of him. He stared at me, my body bared from the lack of covering. I forgot about my missing bra and I reached up, covering the swells with an arm after whipping the sweatshirt from my wrist. “I…”

  But he wasn’t trying to see my breasts as he inspected my skin, horror twisting his features. I dropped my gaze, trying to see what disgusted him so thoroughly.

  The mottling on my skin looked better than it had before my shower. I had rid my body of the dirt and grime from my captivity. I looked so much better than I had. Why was he disgusted?

  He moved slowly toward me, his eyes taking in the mosaic of bruises and scrapes on my body. Tenderness softened the lines around his eyes as he got closer, reaching out and tracing the lines of a boot-shaped bruise across my abdomen with the feather-light touch of sadness. “I’m so sorry. You should never have had to bear this.”

  Uncomfortable with the pity when I wanted desire, I turned away, pulling the sweatshirt back up my body and fumbling with the zipper. “Whatever, it’s not a big deal, you know?”

  “No. It is a big deal. Did they –″ His question was cut off as his phone buzzed on the table by the kitchen. He sliced his gaze back to mine and moved as if to ignore the call, but the next buzz felt more insistent, more knowing.

  He strode to the table, his muscular back facing me. I shouldn’t have left the bra off. It hadn’t gotten me anything but trouble when all I wanted was a different kind of danger and emotion.