Page 18 of Filthy Little Pretties
The teacher begins lecturing him about his obstinance, but I don’t hear her. I’m too busy enjoying the sweet, happy hazel eyes staring back at me. A crooked grin appears on his face as he glances back to her, probably from something she’s said, and it makes me want to laugh.
Same old irreverent Liam.
“Excuse me, where would you like me to sit?” I interrupt, attempting to get him out of trouble.
She goes back to her desk again, glancing down, and my eyes find Liam again. His head tilts my way, giving me a silly expression, and I scrunch my nose, still grinning back. This was always my job—to keep Liam out of trouble. The only problem is that he seemed to have it on speed dial. Still does, apparently.
Liam runs his hand over his dirty-blond, short, almost shaved head, working a toothpick he has between his teeth. His tan skin is the right amount of bronze, highlighting a tiny dark beauty mark by his lip. He’s clean-cut, a golden boy with a hint of an edge. Just like I remember.
I break from his appraisal, looking at my schedule again and back to Mrs. Wright, so says my paper, realizing she’s staring in my direction.
“There’s a seat in the back. You can take that one, so long as you’re done flirting,” she says curtly, pointing a long bony finger in the direction of the vacant seat. “Next time be on time, Miss Kennedy.”
Bitch.
“Absolutely,” I answer, walking quickly toward where she directs.
“I would appreciate your punctuality as well, Mr. McCallister,” she adds, switching her attention to Grey.
Unfazed, Grey laughs softly, “I’m sure you would,” as I begin to pass his seat.
Before I can make it by, he halts my movement by placing his hand on my thigh, just above my knee, almost indecently rested just under the hem of my skirt. My eyes shoot to where his hand touches my skin, feeling goose bumps spread over my leg.
“Hand. Off,” I mouth, raising my eyebrows to punctuate my insistence. But Grey looks at Liam and then back to me, grinning devilishly. Oh no, here we go.
Grey’s fingertips knead softly before running down the inside of my leg, over my boot, until they drift away, caressing my ankle as he does. Keeping his eyes on mine, he speaks to the teacher. “Deborah, the seat you’ve assigned is taken.”
“Grey. Please do not call me by my first name. That seat is available. Thank you for your input, but it’s unneeded.” Her irritation is accentuated by her sharp voice. “Please take your seat now, Miss Kennedy.”
Grey stays trained on me, and he shakes his head minutely, but I take a step forward anyway, only to stop the moment his brow furrows and Liam’s hand reaches for my hip. His fingers warm through the fabric of my skirt as he grips me hard enough to get my attention but gentle enough to make me want his other hand on me, too.
My head swings between them, surprised and ready to kill them. They’re holding me in place—one by force, the other by silent coercion.
Liam gives a whispered tsk-tsk and removes his hand to pull my backpack off my shoulder as my eyes grow insanely wide. My mind says,Walk to your seat. This isn’t the impression you want to make, but I don’t.
Instead, I let Liam slide my bag off my shoulder, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes closed in silent submission. Who am I kidding? There was never a time when I didn’t go along with all their terrible ideas. It seems things haven’t changed much.
Liam chimes in authoritatively, “Deborah. You’re argumentative. The seat’s taken. That’s where Mr. Grantham sits.”
With that, my eyes shoot open, and I’m rewarded for my loyalty with a wink from Grey.
The scene unfolding will go down as the worst first-day experience. My gaze breaks from Grey’s, caused by the commotion in the seat in front of Liam. The deliciously caramel-skinned boy who Grey first spoke with turns his killer smile on me as he stands up and grabs his books.
“It’s all yours, lovely,” he croons in the sexiest deep bass.
Dear ground, open up and swallow me, please.
The handsome stranger walks to the back of the room, taking my assigned seat. I guess that’s Mr. Grantham. I don’t know whether to walk out or crawl under a desk, but since I can’t do either, I turn halfway around and look at Mrs. Wright, who’s tapping that pencil against her hand now. She motions to the newly open seat. Her anger’s apparent, as is her inability to stop whatever is in motion.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I whisper to Liam, slinking down into the chair in front of him, ridiculously embarrassed.
But it’s Grey that motions for me to come closer, so I do, shivering as he whispers into my ear.
“Ensuring I get to watch you apply that lip gloss, Cherry.”
His voice is far too seductive for his age, which means he knows what kind of effect it has on girls. And it’s affecting me in all the right places.
“Let’s refocus. Mr. McCallister, Mr. Brooks, Miss Kennedy. I’d like to get back to teaching now. With your permission, of course.”
