Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

But that’s it.

They don’t know about my daughter.

They don’t know Victoria is Raven’s sister.

They don’t know the sudden departure of their principal was our doing—Connor Perkins, the man who helped hide Zoey’s existence from me by hiding her mother. They also don’t know he was the man who got my mother pregnant with me, giving her the son her husband couldn’t—my biological father, who I would never claim.

Rolland is my dad, period.

There is a lot they’re clueless about, but the shock they’ll be let in on first is what’ll be most obvious the second we step from this vehicle.

I glance at Raven, who frowns out her window.

“I’m a fucking statistic,” she grumbles.

“And anyone who points that out will get their tits punched or balls chopped.” Royce glares, sitting forward in his seat.

My eyes fall to her top, a stretchy material that forms to her frame perfectly, leaving her small bump on full display for the first time.

She shrugs, looking to Royce. “Why, it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, and so is the fact that Victoria here is a sneaky little snake.” I look in my mirror in time to see him point a malicious grin toward her. “But we still won’t allow others to say it to her face.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me,” Victoria tells him in a monotone, eyeing the chaos in the parking lot with annoyance.

She’s so used to hiding in the background, but she won’t get that anymore.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, VicVee, lemme break it down for ya. We don’t give a fuck what you need, not yet anyway.” He pushes his door open the second I put the vehicle in park, and steps out, quickly tucking his head back inside. A deep glower covers his face. “Or instead of ‘not yet,’ maybe I should say not anymore, huh?” He slams the door.

She scoffs, drops her head back on the seat, and lets her gaze flick past mine.

“Fuck it,” Raven huffs. “Let’s go.”

Maddoc and I step out, simultaneously pulling the girls’ doors open before they have a chance to do it themselves.

Victoria stares at me, blindly snagging her backpack off the floorboard at her feet as she climbs out.

I allow my eyes to travel the length of her.

She’s small compared to me. Where my shoulders are wide, hers are narrow, almost petite, as is the rest of her body, but she’s got shape, subtle curves that make it impossible not to wish for a closer look. Even more so with the way she tries to hide it, always with the least amount of skin on display as possible.

She never openly flaunts.

Not that she has to, she’s got a natural lure she’s aware of and, if I’m guessing right, hates.

Her toned legs are constantly covered in cheap jeans, and she only wears tops she can tuck into the waistband. Most of the time she has a little jacket on, but it’s getting warmer, so today her flannel is tied around her hips. Still, her long sleeves hide every inch of her.

She’s left her hair as it falls, a little messy but still full and shiny, by the end of the day it’ll be thrown in a ball on top of her head. When I’ve seen her out, she has dark shit on her eyes, deepening the brown of her gaze, but on most days, like today, she wears little to no makeup, but her high cheekbones, dark lashes, and brows make it seem otherwise. Mix that with the natural swell her lips constantly hold and the shaded rosy red they tempt me with daily and she’s too fucking much, wakes up with that pouty baby doll look.

A legit sleeping beauty.

I draw my eyes back to hers and her chin lifts the slightest bit.

“Ready?” she asks, and I’m not sure if it’s a mask of bravery or stupid stride of confidence she shouldn’t hold.

I move a step closer, lifting my knuckle to her jaw, knowing dozens are staring and telling myself that’s the only reason why I want to feel more of her.

She’s as aware as I am others are watching, but instead of fighting, she allows me to tilt her head back farther.

“Better question.” I trail my knuckle down her throat and her head slowly rights itself. “Are you?”

Her eyes narrow. “Based on how you’re acting right now, I assume I’m the new pet, so I’ll ask you again.” She whispers, “You ready for this, Cap? ‘Cause you’re the one who ‘has’ to touch me today, then go home and convince yourself you didn’t want to.”

A dark laugh leaves me, and I shuffle closer.

“Oh, I want to,” I rasp, the honesty of my own words getting my blood pumping. “Pretty fuckin’ sure I made that clear.”

She looks away only to come right back.

“So, yes. I want to touch you in ways you couldn’t imagine if you tried, in places the sun’s never seen,” I admit, and her features pull. “But I have self-control.”