Defy (Sinners of Saint 0.5)

“This ends the last day of school,” he agreed.

We had a deadline.

We had a plan.

And for a moment there, our warm bodies on that cold floor, with the haze of sex and bliss clouding our minds, I believed we were going to keep our careless promise. There was a little earthquake—a literal one—that moved some of the boxes as we made this agreement. I thought it was a coincidence. It wasn’t. It was the devil in hell down below, rattling the earth with his laughter. Laughing at me.

At how wrong I was.

THE NEXT WEEK AT SCHOOL was paradise. My classes were perfectly behaved. I didn’t struggle to hold the students’ attention, because my new fuck-buddy, an intimidating senior jock who made people fall in line with his stare alone, spread the word not to mess with Ms. Greene. No one was ballsy enough to ask why. Everyone naturally assumed my fucked-up car and his freshly painted Range Rover and its retreat to the student parking lot were the answer to that question. To them, Jaime wanted to keep me happy since he bumped into my car.

No one suspected we were bumping a few other things in our free time.

I taught all my classes then sat with Jaime in detention. I used the time to work, while he used the time to text. On the last day, I kept glancing at my watch, tapping my Sharpie against my desk. I couldn’t concentrate on anything with him in the room. There were no words spoken between us. When his time was up, we both picked up our belongings and walked out of the classroom. I went to my car, he went to his, but by the time I got home, he was waiting inside my building, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“Would you like to come in?” I sloped my chin down, biting a smile. He, too, grinned at his shoes. We were giddy. I liked that. I liked that and I hated that I liked that.

“Nah…I can’t. Football practice for the exhibition. The Kings are going to kill those pussies playing next year for the Saints if we don’t pull their shit together. Trent’s pissed. A scout’s coming to watch the game and look at his leg. They might reconsider his scholarship now that his rehab’s done. Seven okay?”

“Seven’s perfect.”

He nodded. We stood there, staring at one another, before he shrugged and closed the space between us with a long step. “Screw this shit, I missed those lips.”

Then came a hard, desperate kiss where his lips assaulted mine for a good minute.

Breathlessly, I unlocked my door and disappeared behind it, pressing my back against it with a sigh.

That didn’t feel forbidden, or bad. Just a boy and a girl liking each other.

He came back at ten after seven, and for every extra second I waited, anxiety and disappointment built in my gut. I opened the door, frowning. “You said seven. I hate tardiness.”

“That makes two of us.” He roughly pushed me into my apartment, oozing charged energy. “So, about that missionary position…” The quarterback giant stepped into my orbit.

His cut lip and new purple welt were even more prominent with the pink flush on his cheeks after a grueling workout, and his hair still wet from the shower. Between footfall and Defy, there were a lot of injuries among the HotHoles. A broken ankle had ended Trent Rexroth’s football career in the fall. That happened in a locker-room accident. But it was almost like Jaime wanted to fuck up that pretty face of his. The Saints practiced and scrimmaged even in the winter, but he was a senior. He and his friends wouldn’t be part of the team next year.

“Flip your dress up.”

I did, without even blinking. He should’ve been the teacher with that kind of authority. Exposing my baby blue panties, I awaited further instructions.

“Turn around and bend down to touch your toes, Little Ballerina.”

I had no fucking clue how he knew I was a dancer, and asking him about it would force me to deal with the truth.

That he was a crazy stalker.

And that I absolutely liked that about him.

So, I just did as I was told, my ass in the air, presumably level with his groin. The throbbing ache between my thighs demanded release. I felt his fingers clutching my pussy from behind. He ripped my underwear off in one go and served them to me from behind.

“Still wet, despite my tardiness.” He rubbed them against my lips. “Not that mad, I see.”

Shit. The wet spot was obvious, even now, when my panties were merely a string.

“Can you please stop tearing my stuff apart? Not everyone’s under mommy and daddy’s financial wing.” Goodie. The cat was out of the bag now.

He laughed, his abs bouncing against my ass, then thrust three fingers at once into my entrance, making me stumble forward. He caught me by the shoulder before I fell headfirst.