Page 57 of Chaos at Westbrook High

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?” I ask, fisting the towel between my breasts.

The sound of my voice makes him smile. “Nope.”

I look down at my wet body and curse under my breath. “Hang on a second.”

Heading back to my room, I throw on the first thing I can find—my favorite oversized hoodie and a gray pair of sweats. I don’t bother putting a shirt on underneath. Or underwear.

Pulling my wet hair out of the hoodie, I go back to the front door and unlock it before pulling it open.

God, those eyes. Why do they have to be so blue?

When he looks from my face to my body, those blue eyes flash with something that makes my insides ache, and then he pushes himself off the wall and walks inside. “Fuck,” he whispers, closing and locking the door behind him without taking his eyes off me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He says it so simply that I can’t figure out whether he’s really good at lying or really good at telling the truth. Maybe he did just want to see me and he’s not afraid to tell me that. Or maybe he’s full of shit.

“How did you get inside the building?” I ask, slowly backing up as he moves toward me.

“One of your neighbors let me in.”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did they look like?”

“I wasn’t looking,” he rasps, taking my waist to pull my body against his. “I was too busy thinking about you.”

Fuck. Why did I let him catch me?

“I waited for you tonight.” He presses his mouth to my jaw beneath my ear, and I blame my damp hair for the shiver coursing through my body. “You didn’t come.”

“Kai.” I close my eyes, grabbing his shoulders for support when my back hits the kitchen counter.

For support. Now who’s full of shit?

“Why didn’t you text me back, Hails?”

“I was in the shower.” Not a lie.

“For thirty minutes?” His knuckles graze my hip, and he slides his palm up beneath the front of my hoodie. He groans into my ear. “Fuck, you’re still wet. Was it an everything shower?”

Tingles spread across my body, but I have enough sense to grab his wrist before his hand gets too high. “What do you want?”

“You.” He moves his lips across my cheek with light non-kisses, his palms sliding around to my lower back, his fingers dipping under my waistband. “I want to put you on this counter, spread your legs, and fuck your pussy with my tongue. That’s what I want.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. I had a couple beers and some weed, but I’m not out of it. I still drove here.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Aw.” He smiles. “You care about me, baby?”

“Not really,” I mutter. “I meant you shouldn’t have come here. To my apartment.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell Damon.” He mouths at my jaw, then stops and looks around as if something just occurred to him. “Is Derek here?”

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