Crushing On The Bully (Crushing on You 2)

“Yea, well there’s motorcycles for one,” Skull chuckled.

“Yea, okay,” Clarissa nodded, “Nearly getting killed because we’re not wearing helmets, isn’t fun.”

“We didn’t nearly get killed, but if it bothers you that much why don’t you buy a helmet?” Skull asked.

“I just might,” Clarissa said and crossed her arms.

“You don’t have to be so snippy about it, Bookworm,” he chuckled.

“Don’t you understand how dangerous it is?” Clarissa demanded.

“Fine! I’ll find you a helmet to wear before I take you out again,” Skull sighed.

“And what about yourself?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Clarissa didn’t want to let Skull know how much she worried about him, out there on the streets and highways riding that damnable bike without the proper safety equipment.

Clarissa arched an eyebrow, but Skull didn’t answer her question. He moved closer to her so that his face was just inches from her own. She wondered if he’d kiss her again, but then decided not to take the chance that he wouldn’t. Clarissa leaned forward slightly and brushed her lips against Skull’s. They were soft and warm against hers. Their lips moved hesitantly together. Clarissa had never initiated a kiss before, but she found it to be easier than she had thought. Skull’s tongue slipped past her lips and into her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she moved into his lap. Clarissa ran her fingers through his hair and pressed her body close to his.

Skull cupped her ass cheeks and gave them a firm squeeze causing a soft moan to escape Clarissa’s lips. She ground her hips against his and the movement sent small bolts of pleasure through her body. Skull’s hand slid under her shirt and brushed against the bottom of her breast. Clarissa blushed and pulled away.

“We gotta stop,” she said and slid back onto her part of the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest and looked down at her feet.

“You okay, Bookworm?” Skull asked.

Clarissa rolled her eyes without looking up at him. That was one reason she stopped the action. It was getting too close to the down and dirty and she wasn’t going to give her first time up to a guy who didn’t know how to quit being a jerk.

“That’s not my name,” Clarissa said and walked back into the kitchen.

Clarissa leaned her head against the refrigerator and took a deep breath. Her pulse was racing and she could feel its vibrations throughout her body. She hadn’t wanted to pull away from Skull, but she wasn’t going to let her hormones get the better of her.

Clarissa heard the kitchen door creak and knew Skull had joined her. She was afraid to look up at him, because she didn’t know what to say and she wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t going to push the issue. If he was that big of a jerk he’d find himself kicked out on his butt, rain pounding the pavement or not.

“It’s okay, Bookworm,” he said.

Clarissa turned to face him, determined to tear him a new one and tell him to get the hell out of her house, but she came face to face with his brown eyes and couldn’t.

“Look we can just chill and watch television or something,” Skull shrugged.

“I don’t own a television,” Clarissa sighed, “I don’t watch it, it rots your brain.”

“Do you really believe that?” Skull laughed.

“I do,” Clarissa said, trying to resist the urge to ramble on about everything she hated about it, “it bores me to tears.”

“You must not be watching the right things,” Skull chuckled.

His laugh vibrated through the room and she almost agreed with him, but Clarissa wasn’t going to lie just because she was attracted to him.

“I don’t like it, okay?” she smirked.

“That’s why you’re Bookworm,” he laughed.

“Because I don’t like television?” Clarissa laughed.

Skull shrugged, but didn’t say anything else. For a few minutes they stood trying to avoid making eye contact. Clarissa focused at a discolored spot on the far wall. It had always annoyed her, but today she was glad to have something besides Skull to concentrate on.

“Hey, I’m going out to a bar tomorrow night, would you like to come?” Skull asked.

“I don’t drink,” Clarissa said, biting her tongue so she didn’t say she was still a year and a half too young to drink.