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The haughtiness she exudes cancels all cuteness from her appearance. Still, she somehow manages to look runway-model hot in plastic eyewear.
I put my goggles on the top of my head like I’m too cool to wear them. Which is true.
Miller won’t call me on it, either. There’s no point in me wearing them. Shifters can’t be hurt by chemical burns. Well, temporarily, sure. But nothing that wouldn’t heal overnight.
I lean a hip against the lab counter and fold my arms across my chest to watch Lauren work.
She sends a glare my way. “You’re not even going to pretend to help?”
My wolf is satisfied she finally addressed me. Finally looked my way. “Nope.”
The students on the other side of our lab bench–both shifters–give me the obligatory chuckle.
I’m their king, entertaining.
Lauren ignores them. “You don’t think Ms. Miller will notice?” she asks coolly. She’s always unruffled by my attempts to engage her. It drives my wolf fucking bonkers.
Or maybe that’s my ego.
“Miller’s not going to do anything,” I say with total confidence. I’m not as certain as I sound, but my dad is pack royalty, and Miller’s just a school teacher. Nobody special. She would know that if I fail this lab, my grade will slip below a C, and I won’t be able to play in the game this weekend. That would bring a ton of pressure on her from nearly everyone in the town, from Coach Jamison and the principal to every ordinary citizen who depends on Wolf Ridge High to be their weekly entertainment.
Lauren’s nostrils flare, and her lips turn down in an expression of distaste as she moves with confidence, measuring dried peas and sand in two separate beakers. I’m familiar with this particular look–it’s pretty much the only one she gives me.
She shakes her head as she works. “I hear you have the possibility of a football scholarship. How’s it going to work in college when you won’t have the first clue how to get through a class without bullying someone else to do your work?”
I’m satisfied she knows things about me, since most of the time she pretends I don’t exist, but the mention of college turns my stomach. Especially because her words are way too close to the truth. There’s no way I will make it through college without paying or threatening someone to do my work.
I give her my best shit-eating grin. “What makes you think I won’t be able to bully someone in college?”
She rolls her eyes. “One of these days, someone is going to take you down, Oakley. And I’m going to laugh my ass off.”
Fuck, I love hearing the sound of my name on her lips. Even if it is only my last name.
“Maybe you should try.” I don’t know what makes me say it. Just that I crave more of a reaction from her. More than the indifferent tosses of that thick, glossy mane. The one I want to use to tug her head back. To make her bare her throat to me, even though she has no idea what submission means.
I want her hands on me, pushing back. Giving it to me the way I crave giving it to her.
She sends me a sidelong glance. “Maybe I will.”
She’s probably not flirting. Considering her complete disregard for me, that would be a dumb assumption.
But my dick takes it as if she is. It surges against my zipper, and suddenly I’m dying to know what it would feel like to have those pouty lips wrapped around its girth.
I step closer, crowding against her side. “Oh yeah?” My voice isn’t threatening. It’s a deep, suggestive rumble. Almost a purr. I lower it even more. “What would you do?”
The kids across the lab counter from us have their heads down. They’re shifters, which means they can hear every word, but they’re giving us some privacy. Letting Lauren believe they can’t hear my murmured words.
Now that I’m in close, her apple scent swirls up in my nostrils, making my dick thicken even more. I want to nibble that neck and find out how she tastes.
Scratch that, I want to pick her up, sit her ass on the lab table, spread those knees, and taste her where it counts most.
She turns her face up and only jerks slightly to find me so close. Her pupils dilate–the first indication I’ve seen from her that she’s attracted to me. That she knows any emotion at all. My wolf nearly snarls out loud in victory.
If she were scared right now, her pupils would narrow, and I would smell fear on her. Our faces are inches apart, and she doesn’t step back. I detect cinnamon on her breath from the gum she tossed away when she walked into the room.
To my delight, she lifts her chin and leans in closer, almost like she’s going to kiss me. Or more likely, bite me. She probably wants to, considering what a dick I’ve been. “If I told you,” she purrs with the same suggestive tone, “you’d be prepared for it.” She pulls away enough to see my entire face. “And I want it to hurt.” Her eyes gleam like the thought of giving me pain turns her on.
Before I can think, I’ve looped an arm around her back and yanked her soft body right up against mine.
