Page 15 of Reckless at Westbrook High

He makes my dick hard, period.

The girls keep their distance for now while a few of the boys step up to talk to them, probably congratulating Damon and Callie on their wedding. Out of instinct, my eyes drop to the waistband of her ripped jeans and I lock my jaw, pissed she’s not carrying her gun in a big crowd like this after what happened last weekend. She’s not my girl, though, and it’s not my job to tell her what to do, no matter how much I want to.

She’s not mine.

Just as I think it, her eyes find mine and she raises a cocky ass brow, probably wondering why I’m staring at her, what happened to my face, and why I’m sitting over here by myself, watching them from the shadows. She gave me that exact same look the first time I saw her in the hall of Westbrook High all those weeks ago – the last fucking place I expected to see Callie O’Conner. I bumped right into her on her first day here and froze like a deer caught in headlights, unsure what to say or do, but luckily for me, she didn’t give me the chance. She just gave me that look and walked around me, throwing something about my fine ass over her shoulder while she moved for her locker to switch her books out.

She has no idea who I am or what I know, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible.

She cocks her head at me like she thinks she’s about to guess what I’m thinking so I flip her off, making her laugh. Keeping her mouth shut, she looks away with a grin and steps aside to get away from the now growing crowd surrounding her, tipping her chin at the boys to let them know she’ll be a minute. She moves for the kitchen but Damon snatches her waistband, pulling her back to his chest to speak in her ear. Whatever he says has her rolling her eyes but she does as she’s told all the same, allowing them to go get a drink with her.

This is the thing about the Kingston brothers – they don’t trust. They’ve known most of the people here since freshman year and some even longer than that, but they’ll never trust them fully.

Not with her.

They’re a family, bound by love, loyal as fuck and damn near impossible to break, but if you try, it’s game over.

They don’t forgive and they sure as shit don’t forget, meaning when all is said and done here, it’s over for me. I knew that the second I realized she’d become one of them, which is the second biggest reason I hate her. I could’ve had him for life if it wasn’t for her. It would’ve taken work and a helluva lot of convincing on my part, but he would’ve been mine.

I’m sure of that.

But now my days are numbered.

There’s no going back from this.

As soon as he finds out what I’ve done and what I’ve been hiding from him all this time, he’ll never forgive me. He’ll never choose me over her and I’d never ask him to, but the thought of losing him still kills me all the same.

I know I should stay away from him, distance myself starting now and let him live his life without me, prevent the inevitable heartache before the truth comes out and ruins us both.

I should do that.

But I won’t.

Can’t.

I’ve tried, and it doesn’t fucking work.

He’s all I want.

He’s all I’ve ever wanted.

And I’m selfish enough to take whatever time I have left with him until it’s gone.

Eyes still roaming the crowd, he splits from his family to step outside and I lift my beer to my mouth, unable to stop the way my heart thumps a little harder in my chest when I realize he’s still looking for me. He finds me a second later and his shoulders drop, almost like he’s relieved to see me in one piece, but I don’t miss the slight tick in his perfectly square jaw or the anger flashing in his baby blue eyes.

He’s mad.

Fuck, I like him mad.

He walks over and I shift where I sit, barely resisting the urge to adjust my cock in my jeans at the sight of him. He’s always so calm, the quiet bad boy with an I don’t give a fuck attitude and a lazy ass grin to match.

Right now, though?

Right now he looks like he’s about three seconds away from wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing, and fuck if the thought doesn’t ignite a raging fire inside me only he can put out.

“You don’t waste a fuckin’ minute, do you?” he bites out, dropping down on the coffee table in front of me.

“What?”

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