Page 107 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
We’re both panting, the garage silent but for the pinging of the moths against the light.
“Your turn,” Hael growls, lifting me off of him and setting me on the floor. As soon as he climbs off the hood of the Eldorado, he picks me up and sets me back down on it. Shoving my knees apart, he proceeds to clean up the mess he just made with the inferno of a sinful tongue.
Wrapping my long legs around his neck, I drag him close, yanking on his hair harder than I probably should. When I finally come, my body writhing and spasming under Hael’s sinful mouth, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me back to his bedroom.
“How many girls have you brought home?” I ask when he lays me down on his bed and braces himself above me, lifting a single finger to trace the angry pink gash down my side. I got my stitches out the day before school started, but the damn thing still hurts like a bitch. Fitting, considering it was given to me by one.
“Here?” Hael asks, seemingly surprised by the question. “None. You think I’d risk a Cajun mama’s wrath for a quick fuck? No, Bernie, you’re the only girl that’s ever been in my bed.” He kisses me so deeply and so sincerely that I know for a fact that he’s telling the truth. “I love you, Blackbird,” he breathes, surprising the fuck out of me.
That I did not expect, not from Hael, not so soon.
But then, we’ve been craving one another’s company for a decade now.
Two, frightened little kids on a stormy night in a shelter full of lost souls.
Hael adjusts himself so that he’s spooning me, and for several minutes there, the room is silent but for the distant patter of rain outside the window.
“I love you, too, Hael,” I reply finally, surprising him yet again. I can’t see his face, now that he’s curled around me in a protective, possessive sort of way. But I can feel him, the way he tenses up for a moment and then relaxes like every care in the world has just gone out the window.
“Thank fuck for that,” is his response as he nuzzles into my neck and breathes hot against my skin. “Thank fuck.”
Later that night, I wake up to see Hael standing at the window. He’s naked now, his bare ass a treat to look at, even if it’s almost too dark to see. I sit up a little in bed, the blankets tumbling forward so that my breasts are exposed to the cool air. The Harbins definitely keep the thermostat lower than we do at Aaron’s.
“Are you okay?” I ask, but Hael doesn’t move. For a minute there, I wonder if he’s even heard me. Finally, he glances over his shoulder, his face dark and broken into jagged pieces.
“He’s home.”
That’s all he has to say. I know what he means: his father is here.
“Should we be worried?” I ask, and Hael gives the slightest shake of his head.
“Worst case scenario is I kill him in cold-blood and end up in prison …” Hael trails off as I push the blankets aside and move over to stand behind him, wrapping my arms around his body and enjoying the hot feel of him. “He’s changed me in so many ways, Bernie,” he continues, reaching down to put a hand over my laced fingers. “That man … he made me violent. But he also made me too soft in some ways. I can’t stand seeing a woman hurt—even someone like Kali. Like Brittany.” He sighs again and swipes a hand over his face. “I want to hurt my father so bad that I dream about it every night, yet I know that if he dies, the first person the police will look at is me. I can’t bring more attention to Havoc, you know? And if I did get caught, I’d be separated from you. That’d be the worst part for me. The absolute fucking worst.”
“I like that you’re soft toward women,” I tell him, and then I hear myself echo the words I’ve heard from both Aaron and Callum. “It isn’t a bad thing to not want to hurt someone.” My eyes close on the thought, knowing that if I can’t take that advice, Hael likely won’t either.
“I feel bad for Brittany, even though I shouldn’t,” he continues, and I know that even if it seems like his father and his ex are two separate issues, really they’re one in the same. “But she broke our deal. She has to be dealt with. I just don’t think I can do it, hurt a pregnant woman that I used to fuck.”
“You won’t have to,” I promise, watching as his father climbs out of his car and heads for the porch in the pouring rain. We both pause at the sound of a pounding fist on the front door. There are too many locks; the fucker can’t get in without being let in.
