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“Are you sure?” I ask again, clenching her underwear in my fist.
She arches her back, holds me between her thighs, and digs her nails into my arms. “Don’t stop, Hunter.”
I grunt, swelling painfully and feeling her in my arms, but then…a clamor hits the wall on the left side of my bed.
“Fuck!” a girl cries out from the other room. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Oh!”
I open my eyes, sighing, and my hard-on already ebbing away.Seriously?
“Ah! Yeah!”
Farrow’s headboard hits the other side of the wall, faster and harder, over and over again, and I remove my hand from my cock before running it through my hair.
“Oh!” she moans at the top of her lungs.
I punch the wall with the side of my fist, her laughter following quickly after. “Sorry!” she shouts. I don’t recognize the voice. It could be anyone.
But they don’t shut up. His bed rocks against the wall, and I whip off my blanket, rising out of bed.
I walk to the window, the tree outside spilling leaves in the wind, but I don’t have time to appreciate the colors or to even check the temperature this morning when I see Constin walking up the steps of the house next door.
What the hell is he doing?
He was no doubt with Farrow yesterday when she was escorted into the school on her first day, but I don’t want him around her alone.
I crane my neck, trying to see if he goes in, but I can’t tell. I can’t see the door from here.
But he disappears from my sight, and he doesn’t come back. There was no one else with him.
Hurrying to my closet, I yank a T-shirt off the hanger, pull it on, and then push down my lounge pants and pull on some jeans. Slipping into a hoodie, I don’t bother to deal with my hair before I put on some socks and shoes and bolt out of my bedroom.
There’s not one good fucking reason for Constin to be there alone with her.
I race out of the house and slam the door, damn near leaping down the steps.
He’s not standing at her door.
And he’s not on the street.
He’s inside.
I launch up her porch stairs, twist the door handle, finding it unlocked. I swallow the bitching I’m going to do at her later and step inside.
A dish clangs in the kitchen, and I charge through the living room, gaping at them both standing next to the sink.
What the fuck?
Dylan’s eyes meet mine, and Constin turns, following her gaze.
She stands there in a tank top and blue-and-white-checkered boxer shorts. Boxer shorts? Are those hers?
My heavy breathing is the only sound. “What are you doing?” I finally ask.
I don’t know if I’m talking to her or him, but I’m looking at her. She’s barely dressed.
Her expression is soft, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “He’s giving me a ride to school.”
Constin grins.
