Ruthless Secrets (Elites of Macedon High 2)

The smile wavers from her lips as she raises her foil to block my assault. We’re locked in a heated battle for a second, the sound of our weapons meeting and our grunts the only thing between us.

And then she says, “I didn’t pick him.”

“It looked like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Coach Neill clears her throat. “Alex, watch your position. Lev, foil pointed down when not preparing to strike.”

I nod and take a step back, getting into a better position while pointing my weapon toward the ground. Alex does the same.

I take a shaky breath. “It hurt to see you like that.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“But you chose to kiss him, right?” I dance forward, whack her foil, and then retreat. “He told me after you left.”

She rolls her eyes. “You boys are always discussing me with each other, huh?”

“Maybe we wouldn’t if we understood you better.”

“Or you could get a damn life, Lev.” She swats my foil, sending it flying from my hand. When she fixes her weapon at my neck, I raise my hands in surrender. “With me,” she adds in a low voice. “You could get a life with me.”

Coach Neill claps her hands. “Intense. Provocative.”

Alex lowers her weapon and steps back. “Thanks, Coach.”

“All right, kids. I should get back to the office. Clean up after yourselves.”

After the coach leaves, I help Alex put away the weapons and stack the spare gear. She keeps sparing me glances, the kind that makes my heart flutter in my chest. I know I’m a turn-on for her—I could tell by the way she looked at me while we were competing. It takes all my strength not to grab her and kiss her right now.

It’s of no consequence to me that she’s engaged to Parker. I know she doesn’t want him as she wants me. It’s the same with Tomas. But something about stumbling across them in the throes of fucking passion…

Before Alex can retreat to the locker room, I snatch her arm and yank her into the equipment room next to the gym. The cramped space traps us together, inspiring me to cup her face and steal her lips. I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I just want to taste her, to feel her against me.

She pushes on my chest and tries to retreat, but her limbs relax when I persist. That’s the thing about Alex—she can’t resist my touch. She melts the moment I get her in my arms, and I love the way she responds to me. I’d be a liar if I tried to say that I don’t take advantage of it.

When I back her into a metal shelf, she squeaks and clings to my shirt. “Lev…”

“What, baby?” I nuzzle into her neck, drawing a long moan from her lips. “Want me to stop?”

“No, please touch me.”

I chuckle huskily while unbuttoning her jeans. “Where do you want me to touch you, baby?”

A shuddering mewl rolls from her lips as she bucks into my hand. Her receptivity astounds me—and encourages me to keep going. While I stroke her pussy, she struggles to keep herself steady against the shelf, squirming under my care.

I release her pussy and lift her by her bottom, delighting in her moans of protest. I sit her on a table, yank her jeans from her legs, and nestle into her thong, moaning when she gushes on my mouth. Her sensitivity, her sounds, and her squirms drive me wild, making me shove the fabric aside with my tongue.

Nothing tastes as good as Alex when she’s revved up. She wraps her legs around my shoulders and clutches my hair, urging me to nest deeper. Every lick animates her body, hips paced with the rhythm I’m setting. I’d rather be balls deep inside her, but my needs don’t matter, not when she’s fucking moaning like that.

Her gasping whispers make me ravenous. I widen her thighs, holding her knees up to expose more of her pussy to me. When I wrap my lips around her clit, she gasps loudly, the sound muffled by the way she pinches her lips together. I glance up to see her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. That dimple between her brows gets me, telling me she’s skirting on the edge.

A few more laps cause her whole body to convulse. The pain that radiates through my scalp from her nails doesn’t quite break through my determination, acting more as an encouragement than anything. As soon as she’s done, I grab a towel from nearby and wipe her clean.

I pull up her pants, button her jeans, and then hug her to my chest. “Run away with me, baby.”

She’s still panting, but she manages to whisper, “When?”