Page 33 of Tangled Rose

“Where’d you hear that?”

I shrug. Yeah. He obviously doesn’t know they hooked up. I won’t be the one to tell him.

“Would now be the wrong time to tell you she’s in our French class?”

I let out a disgruntled groan. “Oh, God.”

The side door bangs open again. Beau walks out, looks around and gives a sigh of relief when he spots us. Coming closer, he squats down next to us. “I’ve got her, Griff. You can go back inside.”

Griffin gives a curt nod. “Got it. See you both in French.”

Before he can get up, I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Griff.”

His voice gruff, he pecks my cheek. “See you.” He gets up and goes inside, exchanging a long look with his brother before he does. I’m not sure I want to know what that silent communication meant. Will he tell Beau what I told him, even though he said he’d keep quiet about it?

“Lyla.” Beau drops to the ground next to me, taking his brother’s place. The scent of his body wash wafts directly over to me, making me want to be closer.

“What do you want, Beau?” I stare into his dark eyes. I huff, unable to contain my frustration. “You being out here with me? This isn’t going to help.”

“What would help is if you’d explain what the fuck is going on.” He grips his head in his hands, stealing a look at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Easy, stud. Your blow job queen got bitchy with me in the bathroom, and that dickhead in precalc was the icing on the cake. Sue me if I didn’t want to walk into a roomful of people who think I’m no better than trash because I happen to have a scholarship.”

“They don’t know anything about you. And Mandy? Fuck, forget her. She’s nothing to me.”

“You might want to try telling her that, then.” I roll my eyes. “You don’t know me either, Beau. You don’t.” My heart pounds as I wait for his response to that.

He turns to face me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. We stare at each other for a crazy-long time before he whispers, “I see you, Lyla.” Lightning fast, his hand darts out, and he grasps the back of my neck, pressing a desperate kiss to my lips. He stops, staring into my eyes. “I see you.” With a groan, his tongue plunges into my mouth, kissing me deeply with a passion that threatens to take my breath away.

Slowly and thoroughly, he licks the inside of my mouth and sucks on my tongue. Being this close to him messes with my head. I sigh, letting him take us deeper. The longer we go at it, the further we fly out of control. We cling to each other and before it registers what he’s doing, he hauls me onto his lap, never breaking our kiss. He continues his feverish assault on my mouth as his fingers slide inside my blazer, gripping me at the waist, then sliding down over my skirt and palming my ass.

I moan. I can’t help myself. Out here where it’s just me and Beau, I surrender, needing his touch. Needing him. He tastes good. He smells good. And damn, can he fucking kiss. He could win awards for this. Trophies. Gold-fucking-medal kisser. That’s Beau. It’s so fucking hot, the way he takes me to new heights. Tasting me and driving me mad with his lush lips. I nip at the lower one, catch it with my teeth and tug, making him growl. I lick the spot, then capture his mouth again. He pulls away, breathless.

“Fuck, Lyla. I love it when you bite my lip like that. A little nip of pain and then the lick from your wicked tongue.” He groans, the sound coming from deep in his chest, and his hands slide under my skirt, up the outside of my thighs. He urges me closer, letting me feel the hard length of his erection between my legs. At the same time, his fingers slide under my panties at my hips and grip me hard. So hard I’ll probably have Beau-shaped fingerprints on me later.

And I don’t care.

I want Beau. Bad.

It’s that errant thought that makes me stop what I’m doing. Panting and wishing I didn’t have to be the strong one here, I push away and scramble off of Beau’s lap.

“I can’t do this.” I press a few fingers to my lips. “If you knew—”

“What the fuck, Lyla?”

“This is only going to cause us problems.” It’s not even Mandy I’m worried about. It’s me. He thinks he knows me. But he won’t look at me the same when he finds out where I come from.

“Don’t go. Talk to me.” He hurries to his feet, reaching for me, but I grab my bag and race for the door. The bell rings, and as I try to calm myself down, I pull out my phone to check the room number of my next class. Hurrying along, I find it and take a seat. Most of the school is coming from the lunchroom, so I have a few quiet minutes to myself.

When I said If you knew to Beau, I’m not completely sure what I’d even meant, so I’m sure it’s equally confusing for him. My mind is a tortured, confusing place right now.

If you knewwhat my life has been like up until now, you’d understand why jeopardizing my scholarship is scary.

And worse, if you knew how much I wish I could have you—and why you shouldn’t want me—you’d probably run far from me.

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