Page 36 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“You,” Aaron says, looking me dead in the face. The shadows make his green-gold eyes hard to make out, but that’s okay. Just as I’ve memorized Vic’s gaze, his smell, his taste, his feel, I’ve memorized Aaron’s. I’m going to carry little parts of their dark souls inside of my own. “Not the girls, not my friends … just you, Bernadette.” He leans in toward me, capturing my chin in gentle fingers. “You’re my endgame.”
“Stop it,” I gripe back at him, trying to pull away. Aaron tightens his fingers on my face in a very un-Aaron-like way and forces me to stay still. His mouth hits mine in a rush of violent heat and teeth and tongue. He takes me with a single kiss, obliterating my thoughts and forcing me to drop the burning cigarette onto the carpet.
The smell of singed fabric teases my nostrils as Aaron slides his tattooed fingers around to the back of my neck, proving with a single kiss that his words are the purest form of truth: the kind that hurts. It isn’t easy to be someone else’s everything. It’s a terrible burden, one that sits crouched inside your heart for eternity. You will always know that your actions, no matter how necessary, are like ripples in somebody else’s pond.
“Come here,” he murmurs against my mouth, his breath warm against my lips. He tastes like maple syrup, from the pancakes we had earlier. And I love that. I love that Aaron Fadler tastes like home and sweet things, like safety and childhood. All of that wrapped up in a boy with hard muscles, an even harder cock, and a blanket of ink … that’s why I’m waking up with wet heat at the apex of my thighs.
Aaron uses his one good hand to encourage me onto his lap. I straddle him on the sofa, like I did the day after Halloween. We’re in a very similar position here. Him, wounded. Me, on top. His hard cock pressing into my borrowed underwear.
“Why are you wearing my boxers?” he asks, eyes half-lidded and gaze thick with desire. He licks his lips. “Because it turns me on like nothing else. You, wearing my smell all over you. Like you’re mine and mine alone.”
“I was, once,” I say, and Aaron smiles. It isn’t a very pretty smile.
“No, never,” he replies, shaking his head. “You were never just mine.”
Aaron pulls me down with his fingers on my neck, kissing me again as I rock my hips against him, wet and dripping and ready to slide down the length of his cock. Fuck the foreplay.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispers against my mouth after a moment, right when my fingers finally find the tie on his sweatpants and begin to undo the knot. I give him a look and then glance over my shoulder. The skunk-y smell of weed drifts in through the cracked sliding glass door, and male laughter follows along behind it.
“Trying to avoid the boys?” I ask, lifting my brow and letting my mouth curve into a sardonic smile. “Good idea. I’m supposedly due a whole fuck-load of spankings.” I snort and shake my head, leaning forward and putting my fingers against Aaron’s chest, my mouth against his ear. “But you know that you’re the only one I like to spank me.”
Aaron’s one good arm tightens around my waist and he stands up, lifting me along with him. I shouldn’t be surprised at how strong he is, but I am. Pleasantly so. He looks down at me with a possessive male expression on his face.
“No. I’m not avoiding anything anymore. Not even this. I’m in love with you, Bernie, and I always have been. My mistake in the past was trying to make decisions for you without bothering to explain myself. Not anymore.”
“You mean … you won’t try to make decisions for me?”
He smirks at me.
“No, it means I’ll try to explain them.”
I’d roll my eyes at that bullshit, but I’d much rather take Aaron to bed. His fingers stop just shy of my stitches, but he must be worried about me because he sets me down and then takes my hand. Our fingers curl together as he pulls me toward the stairs. I stop him short, redirecting him toward the master bedroom.
Aaron hesitates, but only for a split-second. He must know what’ll happen if we go into this room together, but he lets me guide us there. At some point, Victor might join us … The thought thrills me as we spin into the room and Aaron slams the door behind us.
I push up against him, my breasts catching on the oversized t-shirt I’m wearing, straining as I arch my back and press them into Aaron’s chest. The move makes my side ache, but if there’s pain then that means I’m still alive.
