Page 5 of Bully

Iplace my hands over my knees to cover the scrapes, not wanting to talk about them. Nikolai tosses my stuff into the small back seat. He’s more pissed off than normal. I’m not sure what I am. A bundle of nerves, maybe? This day keeps getting worse by the second. At least it’s a Friday, and I don’t have to be back at this school for a few days.

“Spit it out,” Nikolai orders. I ignore him. Why doesn’t he go speak to Becky? And did he call me babe a few minutes ago? It must have been a slip of the tongue. “Riley.” He emits a growl that resembles the sound of a ferocious bear.

“What?” I snip back. I’m sick of everyone’s crap today. I’ve had enough.

“What happened?” He reaches over and grabs my wrists, lifting my hands off my knees so he can see them.

“It’s fine. I fell.” It’s not a complete lie.

“No shit you fell. How did you fall?”

“I tripped.”

“Don’t lie. You’re shit at it.” My eyes start to sting with tears. It’s not a total lie. I did trip, but not one hundred percent on my own. Becky and her little clique might have helped me along.

“Can we just go?” Everyone is watching Nikolai's car. Becky isn’t hiding the fact that she is very interested in Nikolai. She does have a boyfriend, but from what I've learned, Becky always gets what she wants.

“Fine.” Nikolai starts the car before reaching over and pulling my seat belt on. His arm grazes against my breast. We both go completely still. Nikolai’s eyes lock with mine. He’s so close, I can feel his warm breath tickle my lips. “This isn’t over.” The seat belt's click is loud in the car.

Thankfully, Nikolai doesn’t ask any more questions as he drives me back to the condo. Marco is still standing guard at the elevator when we arrive home.

“How’d it go?” he asks me when I step out of the car.

“I think I killed it.” The calculus test was the only positive thing about this day.

Marco gives me a high five as I pass him. Nikolai mutters something in what I believe to be Russian. I recall him asking me this morning if I talked to every man. Is that why he’s so pissed all the time? Why does he even care?

That’s rich coming from him. He was talking to girls outside of my school. I know he spends a lot of his nights at Matteo’s clubs, and there’s no doubt he has more than enough females there to speak to. Ones that are prettier, sexier, and more experienced. I bet he talks to them a lot. I once asked Matteo when the club closed, and he said around three. Nikolai usually gets home way later than that. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess where he likely is.

I know I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help myself. I mean it’s not like he’s mine or anything. He’s free to do whatever he pleases. Even as I think those thoughts, my stomach starts to sour. The second the elevator opens, I rush off. I don’t get far. Nikolai grabs me by the wrist, stopping me.

“Your knees.”

“We already went over this.” I tug on my arm, but Nikolai doesn’t release his hold on me.

“And I told you that we weren’t done.” He starts walking. I have no choice but to follow him. He goes down the hallway that leads to his room. There are a few rooms this way, but I never ventured down here. I always think of it as Nikolai’s area.

“Where are we going?” He opens the door at the end of the hallway, leading me into his room. It’s massive. Does this condo have two freaking master suites?

“I'm going to look at your knees.” He tosses my bag and book onto his bed. “Sit.” He points. I want to protest but I know by the look on his face that it would do me no good. He’s made up his mind. And if there’s one thing I’ve come to learn about Nikolai, it’s that once he’s set his mind to something, there’s no changing it.

“On the bed?” I squeak out and hate myself immediately. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m such a geeky virgin, and that has never been more clear than at this moment. Next, I’ll tell him I’ve never been in a boy's room before. Scratch that. Nikolai might only be eighteen, but he is a man. None of the boys in my school appear to be anything like Nikolai.

"Yeah, on the bed.” He lets go of my wrist and grabs my hips. Nikolai pushes back, forcing me to sit down. My skirt rides up. His eyes drop to my thighs.

Embarrassed at my chubby thighs that have never seen the sun, I push my skirt back down to cover them. Nikolai says something in Russian again, shaking his head before disappearing into his bathroom. He comes back out a moment later with a first-aid kit.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him as he drops down to his knees in front of me. He places his hands on the outside of my thighs, making my skirt push back up a few inches. My instincts beg me to pull it back down, but I don’t want to lose his touch. I’m finding that I like it way too much.

“I don’t mind.” His thumbs brush back and forth, causing me to get goosebumps. The silence falls, and Nikolai remains motionless except for the motion of his thumbs. It's the simplest touch, but my body responds to it. My thighs part on their own, and my nipples are growing hard. What the hell? I have to get out of this room before I do something else to embarrass myself more.

“Nikolai?”

“You’re soft,” he says. His eyes are still cast down, I think on my thighs, but it’s hard to believe he’d be staring there.

“I’m pasty.” I don’t know why I feel the need to point this out to him. It’s not like he’s blind.

“Nah, it’s like silky porcelain.” His fingers are the opposite. They’re rough. His touch feels wonderful against my skin.

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