Page 71 of Chaos at Westbrook High

Unsure what happens next, I shift on my feet, looking down when I feel how hard he still is against me. I want to do something about it, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to go about it. Why isn’t he doing anything?

Just as I’m considering my next move, he says, “I didn’t want it to happen like that.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

“I wanted to take my time with you.” He brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I struggle not to melt. “I wanted to do everything with you.”

“Why?”

“Because this might be my only shot.”

Again with the honesty.

“You should tell me to leave,” he says quietly.

“I should,” I agree. “Derek might be home soon.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t tell him to leave.

Still, he doesn’t do anything. It’s infuriating.

“Should I leave, Hails?”

Damn him.

Heart racing, I say nothing, backing up toward my bedroom when I catch the look in his eyes. It’s heat, but it’s something else as well. Something predatory.

He moves with me step for step, and I can’t deny the thrill rushing through me. Maybe Callie has a point. I shouldn’t, but I like it when he chases me. I like it even better when he catches me.

“Little runner,” he murmurs.

I freeze at that, squinting at him. “How do you know I was thinking about running?”

“I know you better than you think I do.”

“I doubt that.”

He cocks his head. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Make the first move.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He smirks like he knows all my secrets, and I huff. “You’re an asshole.”

Laughing, he puts me out of my misery and takes three steps toward me, picking me up and hauling me over his shoulder. “Which one’s your room?”

I point to the door, and he carries me through it, closing it behind us and locking us inside. He lays me down on my tangled sheets on my back, looming over me with his arms caging my head in on both sides. Studying me closely, he places my phone down on the pillow next to my head as if he wants to see what I looked like while we were on the phone before. I’m laying in the exact same position, but instead of my hand, it’s him between my legs, kneeling before me while he devours my body with his eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, rubbing his palm over his dick through his sweats.

“Do what you said you’d do to me before,” I rasp. “What you said on the phone.”

“All of it?”

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