Page 80 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“You took too long,” he tells me, licking the edge of his pink mouth. “Again.”
I stand up and dart from the bushes as fast as I can, slowing down only when I near my next hiding spot: the house. Cal never said I couldn’t hide in here.
When I slip inside and Aaron sees me, I put a finger to my lips, winking to let him know it’s nothing serious. He raises a brow but stays where he is, settled on the couch with the girls flailing around in their VR headsets in front of him.
I tiptoe down the hall, slip into the master bedroom, and hide behind the open door. If the sliders in here hadn’t been locked, I’d have gone in that way.
Closing my eyes, I try to guess if it’s been a minute or not.
I have no idea, so I start to count down from fifteen, just to see if I can make it that long.
Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen …
The door slams closed, and I open my eyes to see Cal standing in front of me in the dark.
“What gave me away this time?” I ask, my voice soft, almost tentative.
“I could smell you,” he whispers back, putting his palms on the wall on either side of my head. “Like peaches and leather. But you did better this time.” He leans close and breathes me in. “I have the advantage here, since I know your scent so well.”
“Creepy,” I whisper, but when he drops his mouth to mine and kisses me like he’s absorbing my very essence, I know that I don’t care. He might be a scary motherfucker, but he’s here for me. He can’t dance anymore; there is only me, only Bernadette.
Callum pushes his body up against mine, pinning me to the wall with his lean form. My hands slide up under his hoodie and t-shirt, finding the planes and valleys of his lower abs. They contract at my touch, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Do I still get the prize?” I whisper and Cal chuckles, pulling away from me just enough to talk.
“No.” He grabs my arm and leads me toward the bed, leaning in to put his lips near my ear. “But you can have something else.”
He pushes me down on the mattress and then crouches on the floor, sliding one of my boots off and then the other. He takes his time, too, setting them aside before removing my socks and pressing his thumbs into the arch of one foot.
It feels so damn good that I throw my head back with a throaty moan.
“This is my punishment for losing?” I whisper, not wanting Aaron or the girls to hear. Likely, they’ll be in virtual reality land for a while, but I’m not risking it. “A foot massage?”
“Punishment?” Cal queries back, his voice as husky as mine. “Whoever said you were being punished? You just didn’t win the prize—this time. But that’s okay: we’ll play again.” He lifts up from the floor like his body is weightless, like moving it around costs him nothing, takes no effort at all.
It’s a lie; we both know he’s in constant pain.
Cal grabs me by the hips and pulls me toward the edge of the mattress, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling down the zipper while he maintains eye contact. I don’t ask what, exactly, it is that we’re doing now. It seems pretty obvious.
That is, until I try to sit up and undo Cal’s pants and he pushes my hands away.
“No,” he repeats, while still smiling. “And don’t give me that look. I’m not Oscar; I like being touched. But this is still a lesson. You’re going to learn how to be quiet.” He pulls my jeans down, leaving my panties in place.
Cal crouches back down and pushes my knees apart, dropping his mouth to my inner thigh. He doesn’t touch me with his lips however, choosing to breathe against my skin and make me shiver instead. It’s near torture as he trails his fingertips along my thigh, tapping, tickling, but refusing to take it any further, even as my hips buck in response.
My panties are already soaked through; I can feel them.
“Cal,” I breathe, trying to guide his face, but he just laughs at me, the sound a near physical sensation as his breath flutters against the sensitive flesh of my upper thigh.
“Patience, Bernadette,” he chastises, finally granting me a single kiss to the inside of my knee. My entire body breaks out in goose bumps. “Yet another skill you need to learn.” He continues moving those perfect lips down my leg, kissing me gently on the calf, the foot. His thumbs knead my arch again, working some of the tension from my right foot.
I try to be patient like he’s asked, but it isn’t easy.
“Get on the bed with me,” I murmur, but Cal just locks his blue gaze with mine, his face shrouded in the half-dark. His hood is still pushed back, blond hair an ashy gold color in the shadows of the room.
