Page 58 of Reckless at Westbrook High

“Story time’s over, Wren,” I mutter, moving to leave, but then he snatches my throat and shoves my ass back, pinning my body to the marble with his hips.

“You’re a stubborn little prick, you know that?”

“You’re a nosy little asshole, you know that?”

He barks out a laugh and I grin, smashing my mouth on his for no reason other than the fact he makes my heart fucking fly when he makes that sound.

I’m so fucking gone for this guy.

He reaches over to shut the water off and I wrap my arms around his waist, looking right when I hear what sounds like Freya screaming Wren’s name a couple rooms over. He tenses and I smirk, dipping my head to retake his mouth with mine.

“I don’t want her touching you, anymore.”

“Why not?” he asks, tightening his grip on my neck to kiss me back.

Because you’re mine.

“Because I said so,” I say instead, groaning when he snatches my bottom lip between his teeth.

“You realize you’re not the boss of me, right?”

“You sure about that, bottom boy?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ bottom boy.”

“Says the little spoon.”

“Fuck you.”

“I will,” I assure him, twisting his neck to the side to speak in his ear. “Hard.”

He shivers against me and I kiss him again, sliding my free hand over his spine to grab his ass.

Right then, every doubt I’ve had about me and him since Callie showed up disintegrates to nothing. I’m keeping him for life, and fuck if I’m about to let any motherfucker take him away from me.

He’s mine and he’ll stay mine.

Whether he likes it or not.

* * *

“How the fuck am I supposed to cover these, man?”

“You’re not,” he says simply, shrugging while he pulls a black t–shirt over his head. “Problem solved.”

I raise a brow at that, eyeing him over my shoulder while he follows me downstairs to the elevator. “You really are a psycho, huh?”

He laughs at me and snatches my hand to pull me into him, lightly brushing his thumb over the hickeys on my neck and throat like he’s proud of them. “Where’d you think you’re goin’?”

“Home..” I draw out, frowning when he shakes his head and drags me back towards the kitchen.

“Wrong.”

I frown some more and look over at the island, finding Damon watching us over his phone with that tiny little half grin on his face. Wren drops me down in the seat opposite him and moves for the coffee maker, keeping his back to us while he grabs four mugs from the cupboard overhead.

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.”

“I wouldn’t dare, little brother,” Damon teases, laughing lightly when Wren clips the back of his head with a hand towel. “Ow, fucker.”

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