Page 94 of The Rivals' Touch

“Class, Jacob. Ever heard of it?”

He slings his heavy arm around my shoulder. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

He smells delicious, like cedar and bergamot.

My voice is sweet, “Not at all. I’m just not overly impressed by your presence. Don’t you have someone else to harass?”

“But you’re my favorite.”

We turn a corner. “What do you want me to do now? I can’t feed you until lunch. Need me to tie your shoelaces?”

He makes us pause in the middle of the hallway and looks down at his feet. His red, white, and black Nike Air Jordan’s are unlaced. It’s amusing that he looks surprised when his laces are always undone. It’s not as if he woke up this morning and forgot to tie them.

“I want a word with you before class,” he says, steering us away from Abigail. “She’ll see you in a bit.”

I don’t even put up a fight because what’s the point? “What do you want?”

He shoves me into an empty classroom and locks the door. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

I’m taken aback. Jacob is a class-A dick, so why is he acting concerned now? “I fell out of bed.”

“The fuck you did!” He lifts my chin with his fingers and inspects the bruising. “When Zayd sees this, he’s going to murder someone.”

My heart starts racing at his words. “Zayd won’t care.” Why would he?

Jacob’s intense, green eyes collide with mine. “You’re so fucking clueless.”

“Are you done?” I ask as he brushes his fingers over a bruise higher up on my cheek.

“Bennett did this?”

I hold my breath. “It’s none of your business!”

“Where’s your necklace?” His touch trails lower, down my throat, and over the curve of my breasts. My white t-shirt feels too tight all of a sudden. I want it off me.

“I lost it.”

“Find it!” he orders, sliding his hand over my hip and squeezing my ass through my jeans.

It must be my imagination that I arch into his touch and bare my neck for his warm lips. I hate Jacob, so why do I crave him?

He sucks on my sensitive skin as the sound of rowdy students filters through the door. “Want me to touch you?” he whispers, nipping my skin with his teeth.

I dig my nails into his shoulders and whimper, “Please!”

Unlike Zayd’s love for hoodies, Jacob wears a checkered shirt with a black t-shirt underneath. His masculine and intoxicating aftershave reminds me of the woods and the wild: forbidden desires I’ve denied myself for too long.

His lips come down on mine and steal my breath, causing heat to sink to my clit. I whimper into his mouth. Jacob grabs my wrists and lifts them over my head against the door, then lowers my zipper and snakes his big hand inside my panties.

I’m wet, and his fingers slide through my slick folds with no resistance. Jacob smirks as a needy moan falls from my lips and hangs in the charged air between us.

“Please, Jacob!” I breathe, rolling my hips. It feels so good!

His tongue plunges into my mouth, and he kisses me until all I see is him and the pleasure he sparks in my body. His skilled hands and intoxicating smell drug me. I never stood a chance when he cornered me against the door. “I shouldn’t touch you like this,” he groans, slipping a thick finger inside me while I pull on his light-brown hair.

I’m drunk on him, lost in the moment, carried away on a wave of desire. “More!” I moan, my chest heaving, and he yanks my jeans down my thighs.

“Fucking hell!” he curses as if in pain and works a second finger inside me. “How the fuck am I going to explain this to Zayd, huh?”

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