Page 463 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“I’ve heard shit about the place, and yeah, it sounds fucking terrible.” Jude rakes his fingers through his hair. “But so are we.”

I blink wide eyes at him, my mouth gaping.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I whisper incredulously. “Judgingme. What the hell makes you so special?”

“Nothing, Harper.” Jude sits forward in a rush, and I barely manage to keep my ground without shrinking away from his piercing eyes. “I’m just as fucked up as you, don’t you get it?” He flicks his fingers between us. “We did this.Us.Me and you. We have this chemical reaction when we get close. When wemix.” He barks out a laugh. “And fuck, it’s bad. It’s so bad.”

“So we apologize, and they ground us for a year, but we get to live our lives. We stay in school, we?—”

Jude’s hand clamps around the front of my throat. He moves so suddenly, I don’t even bother to gasp, because by then it’s too late.

We stare at each other, hues of red and blue and greens painting our faces and clothes.

“I need help, Harper.” His eyes fall to my mouth but only linger long enough to send another fierce rush through my body before he locks onto my eyes again. “Youneed help.”

I still want to argue, and I don’t know why. He’s right. I strayed from the path a long time ago. Not like my mother thinks I did—Jude was the only person I’ve ever seduced in my life.

Licking my lips, I give him a careful nod, hoping it’s enough to make him release me.

Also hoping, in that dark, secret part of me, that he won’t. That he’ll drag me closer and kiss me like he did the other day when it felt like he was consuming my soul.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I whisper hoarsely.

His brows twitch, but his face smooths before a full frown can form. “Do what?”

“A place like that. I don’t know...if I’m strong enough.”

Jude’s lips quirk into a lopsided smile. “You? Are you fucking serious?” He strokes my jaw with his thumb. “Harper...you...you’re a fucking warlord.”

I laugh. “What?”

“Someone could nuke you and you’d still be standing,” he says, eyes narrowing as his smile grows. “You’reinsaneif you think a place like Camp fucking Joy will end you.”

A rush of pride nearly topples me. I grab Jude’s shoulder, holding on desperately as I fight a wave of tears. I can’t speak—my throat’s too tight, and it has nothing to do with Jude’s hand on me.

But as if he’s only just realizing that he’s still got hold of me, his grip loosens.

I should have let him go too. Then I should have got up and left.

I don’t.

I drag my hand up the side of his muscular neck and sink my fingers into his thick, black hair. And God, it’s every bit as soft and silky as I thought it would be.

His eyelids hood at my touch, but he says nothing, does nothing. He’s absolutely still, gaze pinning me where I sit, as I toy with his hair.

“You really think I can do this?” I murmur.

One side of his mouth quirks up again. “Piece of cake, princess.”

I grip the back of his head and pull him closer. We stop an inch away, our eyes drilling into each other, and then he closes the distance.

No longer fierce. No longer violent.

Our kiss is gentle and curious, like we’re exploring a pitch-black room and we don’t want to stub our toes on whatever is hidden in the dark. My hand falls onto his thigh, and I inch it up until I touch him through his sweats. He rewards me with an angry growl when I grab his hardened cock and squeeze.

He exhales over my mouth as he pulls away from our kiss. “Not here,” he whispers.

I’m a tight knot of flesh, my muscles all bundled up from the promise he made with that kiss. I lean in, hold my lips against his. “Where?”

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