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If I hadn’t told the girls about it the morning after it happened, I might have believed I dreamed it.
When I’m left alone on Tuesday, I start to have hope that maybe our conflict is behind us. I allow that blind belief to lull me into such a false sense of security that when Lyra marches up to me during Wednesday’s lunch hour, it takes me until I hit the cold water beneath me to understand she’s just shoved me in the pond.
I’d been sitting with the girls, taking advantage of the beautiful September day and eating outside. We packed sandwiches and are sitting with our legs dangling off the pontoon when I spot her approaching. She looks distressed, arms pumping furiously with each step, so I stand to ask her what’s wrong.
I blink and my body hits the water. I go under.
What the fuck?
That’s the only thought I have as I sink further under. Summers spent swimming in Lake Michigan have my instincts kicking in immediately. My legs push and my arms pull at the water as I emerge with a large breath.
Immediately, my eyes find his. He’s sitting right there, slightly on higher ground than the rest of the group. Sitting like a king with his fawning court.
A frown pulls at his brow like he’s unsure what’s happening, but I don’t buy the innocence act. This has his name written all over it. He even got his little girlfriend to do his dirty work again.
Anger builds from zero within me, extending across my entire body and growing like a snowball rolling downhill. It’s picking up bitterness, resentment, and hurt on its way down until it forms a tight ball of fury in my gut.
Nera is bent over, extending a hand to help me get out as Six holds back Thayer who’s screaming after Lyra’s retreating form.
Darkness clouds my vision so that all I can see is him.
My enemy.
Ignoring Nera’s outstretched hand, I hoist myself onto the pontoon and stalk hotly towards him. I’m panting, the anger in my chest making it impossible to take anything but short, choppy breaths.
I consider my options. Will the school let me strangle their precious king in public?
“What’s next, pig’s blood? ” I fume, coming to a stop in front of him as I put my arms out to display my wet clothes. “You could at least have the balls to carry these stunts out yourself.”
I swallow a gasp as our eyes clash. The look in his gaze is downright feral. I’m suddenly aware of the chilly breeze as a shiver courses through me.
His eyes are bottomless inky pools of desire trained on me. He’s not looking at my face. I drop my gaze, taking in my soaking wet white blouse. Water is falling off me in rivulets that pin my shirt to my chest like a second skin.
My white silk bra is also drenched and does nothing to hide the hard peaks of my dusty pink nipples as they strain against the fabric.
I’m accidentally giving Rogue and all of his friends a free show. If the movement of his chest is anything to go by, his breathing is just as erratic as mine. Sharp breaths rip from him as he stares at me, his nostrils flaring, his tattooed arms flexing. The danger around him is a physical thing.
Lust and anger permeate the air, sparking the connection between us like a tripwire.
He stands, grabbing his sweater by the neck and ripping it off as he eats the space between us in two giant strides.
“Put this on.” He demands, thrusting it at me.
“Why? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, me humiliated in every way?” I say, crossing my arms angrily over my chest.
The movement only serves to push my breasts up towards him. His gaze drops and hunger etches itself across his face again.
I take a step back.
His hand grabs my waist, wrenching me back against him.
“Don’t. Move.” He warns dangerously.
His fingers dig into my hip, his hold on me controlling. My hands are splayed against his chest, my front pressed to his. I feel the hardness of his cock against my lower belly.
My thighs clench and my fingers curl into his shirt as arousal slams into me. Damn him for looking so beautiful, even as he torments me. I go to move away again, but he keeps me firmly anchored against him.
“What are you doing?”
