Page 15 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 11

It’s Thursday. One more day to freedom. Hiking my book bag onto my shoulder, I exit my French class and look around to see if I can catch up with Max and Scarlett to walk with them to lunch.

“Tell me you didn’t,” a deep, gravelly voice rasps right next to my ear. Just as I spin on my heel, Micah grabs my arm above the elbow and jerks me into an empty classroom.

Caught by surprise, my mouth opens and closes a few times before I finally manage to stutter out, “Didn’t what?”

“You know what.” He takes a step toward me, and I edge backward. We continue this strange dance, like he’s the predator stalking his prey, until I back right into the teacher’s desk and am forced to stop. I end up half-sitting on the edge of it, leaning backward, in a continued attempt to retreat.

Chest heaving, Micah plants his hands on either side of my hips, nudging his way between my legs as if it means nothing to him, and dips his head toward mine. “You told my coach that we didn’t meet on Tuesday.”

Vehemently, I shake my head. “I did not.” Okay, I sort of did, but I didn’t rat him out like he thinks. And, oh God, he’s way too close and he’s scary and he smells way too good. Scary good. My mind goes blank. Why the hell am I even thinking about the way he smells when he’s staring at me like he’s either going to flay me alive or … turn me over and spank me?

“Then why’d he fucking make me sit the bench at practice yesterday? I’m going to ask you one more time. Did you tell Coach that I didn’t want to be tutored?”

I choke out, “No, that’s not what I told him.”

“What the fuck did you say, Daphne?” When he says my name, his lip curls into a snarl.

My heart thunders under my rib cage. “I-I told him we hadn’t scheduled a time yet and were hoping to meet today.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s all you said?” He slides his hand around the back of my neck, holding me where he wants me.

My breath huffs past my lips. “Yes. I swear. And he tracked me down. It’s not like I went to him.”

He nods. “Good. You let me deal with my own shit. Got it?” His fingers slide up my throat before he grips my chin. “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

I try to get a breath, but I can’t. Fuck what up? We’re nose to nose, and he’s stealing all the air. Again. “I—”

My response is cut off when he moves his hand to the top of my right thigh and squeezes. His dark eyes bore into mine as his hand drifts up my leg. My chest expands, then deflates in fits and starts. What is he doing? The heat of his hand transfers through my skirt and makes my belly turn upside down. Then, lower inside me, there’s a distinct, needy throb. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Micah chuckles as if he can tell that my body is rioting at his touch. His hand dips inside the pocket of my skirt and smoothly draws out my phone. He eases back, stands up straight, and holds it in front of my face until it unlocks for him. I find it very disconcerting how close he’s still standing. “Since I’m being forced to do this, next time, just text me and tell me to move my ass if I’m running late.” He looks down for a few moments, tapping on my phone screen with his thumbs.

Just when I think I’m in the clear, he bends at the waist so we’re eye level again, one hand resting next to my hip. With the other, he palms my phone and presses it to my chest, right between my breasts. And he doesn’t move. His big hand—the one I’d seen catch a football pass with ease at the only game I’d ever attended—is now splayed over me. Touching me. And that hand is bigger than I’d thought. I wonder if all of him is bigger than I’d thought. More heat rushes to my face. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He tucks his head next to mine, bringing us cheek to cheek. His voice is husky as he whispers in my ear, “Take your phone, Daphne.”

With a gulp, my hands fly up in an attempt to do just that. Only instead of taking my phone from him, I end up trapping his hand. His warm skin against my chest ratchets up my heart rate, and I know he can feel how hard it’s beating. I blink several times before meeting his gaze as his thumb grazes my nipple, which is now like a hard pencil eraser sitting on my chest. A throaty groan erupts from his chest. “Fucking hot.” He flicks my nipple again, then manages to extract his hand from mine without my phone dropping to the floor.

I swallow, unable to control the storm of feelings he sends through me. My eyes are riveted to his body, and I take in his immense chest, which narrows to a trim waist. My eyes drift further south to the impressive hard-on contained inside his pants. I haven’t ever seen a dick up close and personal—unless you count the nasty dick pics that had been sent to Scarlett’s phone courtesy of Aria a few weeks ago. But he seems big. Very big.

My eyes remain fixated on his crotch, and I can’t make my gaze return to his. I sense he’s in predator mode again, watching my every move.

“Are you fucking checking me out right now, Daph?”

“No,” I whisper, the lie falling easily from my lips. I shake my head.

He chuckles, his voice husky. “It’s okay, I know you are. Tell me—are your panties wet?”

Yes.“No. Dammit, Micah. Back up, please.” I throw a hand out between us and it lands on his rock-solid chest. Mistake. That was a mistake. I want to tear my hand away but also touch more of him, and I don’t even know how that’s possible. Slowly, I withdraw.

“Your chin is trembling. Are you scared of me, Daph?”

“No.” My jaw tenses. No way am I giving him the upper hand by admitting that he both terrifies me and makes me ache with need all at the same time.

“Good. Then I’ll see you at six tonight. Coffee shop.”

I press my lips together and—against my better judgment—provoke him. I glare at him and ask, “Are you actually going to show up?” He’s the one who messed up last time, not me. He’s the one who didn’t show. I’m the one who looked like an idiot. I square my shoulders, knowing I have every right to ask.

A growl works its way up from his chest, and he allows his eyes another survey of my body. “Cute. It’s cute when you try to play tough. But I can see your knees knocking from here.” He reaches toward my chest, and pleasure shoots right through me when he flicks his thumb over my nipple again. “Fuck, if I’d known you wanted me so bad, I’d have just shown up to our tutoring session the first time.”

He winks on his way out. He fucking winks at me.

Is he serious?

I spend several minutes after that—since I’m already late for lunch—looking for what he put in my phone. I assume it was his phone number, but it’s not under Micah or Robertson. When I scroll, I finally come to a dead stop on what can only be his entry.

Daph’s Dream Dick

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