Beth’s eyes narrow to match mine, but she has no comeback. She knows I’m fucking right.
I huff out what resembles a growl. “Damn it, Beth!” I gesture pointedly to the pile on my bed. “’The fuck is the point of this then, huh?” More heat rolls through me, the alcohol in my system acting as a dangerous accelerant, and between my fury and my hard-on there’s a good chance I might spontaneously combust. “I don’t know why you’re even fucking staying here if you’re just going to walk around like you’re challenging the goddamned universe! Next time just send a fucking email blast to the whole student motherfucking body! That way any random piece of shit looking for a hot young coed to take advantage of can find you and do whatever the fuck they want!” But I’m assaulted by that image of Steven Bogart pawing at her in the damned club, and I’m not even sure what I’m talking about anymore—if my heart’s practically beating out of my chest over Brody’s threat to her safety, or fucking Falco’s threat to her sanity, or Bogart’s threat to…what? Take her from me?
“Goddamn it!” I roar, shoving another hand through my hair and forcibly averting my gaze to escape the sight of her in those tight fucking pants. Because somehow she looks even sexier now than she did in that hot-as-fuck little number she had on at the club tonight.
But my temper ignites something violent in Beth, and suddenly she’s rushing me like a defensive tackle, her teeth practically bared as she unleashes her own torrent of swear words, her palms shoving hard at my chest.
If I wasn’t so pissed I might smirk. I taught her those words, over a decade ago, though I don’t remember them sounding so goddamned hot coming from her mouth. But there’s no question how they affect me now, and for a moment I just stand here and let her release her obvious frustration, even as my back is thrust repeatedly into the wall with more force than I’d expect from her small, slim body. It isn’t enough to hurt me, though, and I wonder if she’s actually trying to.
“Whose idea what that, huh?” she seethes. “I don’t know why I’m fucking staying here, either!” she adds with another shove at my chest, and I try to ignore the way her touch burns my skin even through my shirt, or how it travels straight to my dick like she alone holds some kind of map of secret paths through my body, ones that seem to exist only for her. “I’m not a little fucking kid anymore, David!”
I’ve heard it before, but my patience was running on empty when I got here, and right now, after this crazy, amazing, shitty fucking night, all I’ve got left is feeling and instinct. I snatch her wrists and yank her into me to stop her aggression. “So you keep fucking telling me!”
Beth tries to pull free but I hold her wrists more firmly to my chest, hauling her harder against me to make my point…whatever the fucking fuck that may be. But she doesn’t just get to go off on me without hearing me say my piece. But I’m not sure what that is anymore, and before I manage to figure it out, Beth is back on the offensive.
She’s given up on breaking free, so she pushes me instead, this time with her entire body. “Fuck you!” she spits—words I’ve never heard her say before—not directed at me.
“Fuck me?”
“Yes! Ugh!” Another shove. “You don’t have to stop guys from dancing with me—”
If she was looking to push me over the edge, it fucking worked. I spin us around so it’s her back against the wall, effectively cutting her off. My hand slides to the nape of her neck, guiding her gaze where it belongs; I don’t release her wrists, either. Instead, I steal the half-step between us, crowding her until I loom over her almost threateningly.
But I wouldn’t hurt her—I know that, she knows that. So what the hell am I threatening? The truth is I’m not exactly sure, but this whole night feels precarious, like it’s hanging on by a thread—or I am—and it’s getting closer and closer to snapping by the second.
“Dancing with you? Or fucking groping you?” I grit out. My volume may have plummeted, but my tone more than makes up for it.
Beth jerks her restrained wrists. “I’m not a child,” she huffs, “and you’re not my fucking brother.” She lets out a sharp, exasperated exhale. “I lost the chance to have a normal high school experience because of a guy. I won’t miss out on college, too…not even for you.” She glares up at me with a scrappy determination, and it’s obvious she’s preparing for a fight.
But what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Not even for me? Why would I suddenly fucking matter?
“You either need to accept that I’m an adult, or I can’t stay here. I’m nineteen years old, for God’s sake!”
Don’t I fucking know it! But the last thing she should want is for me to accept that she’s an adult. Because if I were to stop the constant internal reminders that she’s still the same Bits—the same little girl who got us to dance to Britney Spears and sip fake tea—well, the version in front of me is all I’d have left. And, like she said, that version is a nineteen-year-old woman. A gorgeous nineteen-year-old woman with a tight ass, full, perky tits, and legs that would look way too fucking perfect wrapped around my waist.
It’s only when I catch her lower lip trembling in a flicker of uncertainty that I realize how hard I’m breathing, how tense my muscles are, how firm my grasp is on the back of her neck. My fingers spread further, expanding my claim, even if somewhere, buried deep beneath the layers of alcohol, anger, and arousal, I know I should be doing the opposite.
Beth doesn’t waver, though. “You have friends who are girls, David. There’s no reason why you can’t just treat me like anyone else,” she says impassively.
And finally, with one final epic fuck it, I crack.
My hand tightens around her nape, my fingers thrusting into her hair barely a second before they’re pulling her head back, offering her mouth up at the perfect angle. I take full and immediate advantage, giving my brain a much-needed break as I surrender instead to the instructions coming from the rest of my body, all of which are currently consumed by a single thought—tasting those fucking lips.
So I do.
Chapter Fifteen
David
My mouth takes Beth’s like a car crash—a fiery disaster we can’t turn away from even as it’s happening—with two things that have no business coming together doing exactly fucking that.
And the result is just as explosive.
After one brief moment of either hesitation or surprise, Beth responds in earnest, unassuming but sure, as if she’s letting me lead her in yet another dance. And, in a way, she is. An untamed, reckless, chaotic dance.
The alcohol is still there in our blood, fueling an entirely different kind of fire than the fury and outrage of just moments ago. But if anything could blaze hotter than my temper, it’s my attraction to this fucking girl, and my lips are firm and punishing from the start.
Beth’s mouth opens to let out a gasp, and I advance again, my tongue leading the assault. She whimpers into my mouth and I swallow it down greedily.
