“They’re like ignorant hillbillies,” his teammate jumps in to explain. “Inbred white trash who are dumb as rocks but can take a tackle. All they know how to do is play sports, but not a single one of them ever goes to college.”
I don’t punch him. It would be too easy. Instead I just shake out of his grip and walk cockily to Sloane.
“The only one showing their ignorance right now is you, Brian,” Sloane throws back, reaching for my hand. She leads me away from the building, toward the parking lot.
I let her lead until we turn the corner, and then I put my arm around her shoulders like I need help. She just saw me get my ass beat. I have to at least act a little hurt.
“Oh God, are you okay?”
I give her a wide grin. I still taste blood in my mouth, so it’s probably a colorful one.
“What are you smiling at?”
“You, rescuing me.”
“Don’t think it means I like you.”
I unlock the passenger side door to Winslow’s Mustang. “I think you do, Legs.”
After she gets in, I walk around and start the car. Its early still—there's time to take her out somewhere. And that idea appeals to me, but not as much as getting her home, considering I plan on spending the night in her bedroom again.
And not on the floor.
I pull out, and she yanks off her crown, tosses it on the dash, then fiddles with the ancient radio in the car until she picks up a station.
I park in front of her aunt's townhouse and turn off the car.
"You don't have to walk me to the door."
"Oh, but I do. I promised your aunt I'd be respectful."
She snorts as she slides out of the car and shuts the door, booking it to the townhouse like she can't wait to get rid of me.
I have to hustle to catch up, but my legs are longer. I reach past and catch the door knob before she does. "What, no kiss?"
"Fuck no." She gives me a shove.
I want the kiss, though. I want it badly. Time to stop being a dick.
I slide my hand under her hair. "Just one," I coax. "I'll make it good."
She hesitates, uncertainty glinting in her copper-brown eyes. She wants it, too. She just doesn't trust me.
I lower my head. Brush my lips across hers, testing. She doesn't pull away. I make more contact, but it's still light.
She kisses back, just a little.
I snake my arm around her waist and deepen the kiss. Everything about it feels good.
Right.
The way she tastes. The way her body fits against mine. The tentative way she gives herself to me.
I press her back against the door and go in for the kill. Sweep my tongue between her lips. Drop my hand to her ass.
She softens even more. Lets me.
"You taste like blood,” she murmurs when I let her up for air.
I lift my chin toward her window upstairs. “Then let me in, and I’ll brush my teeth.”
She considers me with heavy-lidded eyes, then opens the door and slips inside.
I take it as a yes and barely refrain from a fist pump as I walk to the Mustang to park it somewhere nearby where her aunt won’t see.
I lose the tie and jacket in the car and grab my backpack with a change of clothes and my phone charger and toss in her crown from the dash. Then I slip back through the darkness and swing soundlessly up to the porch roof.
Sloane stands in the open window, watching my approach. “You make that look easy.”
I shrug and pop off the screen to slip through. “It is easy.” Because I have superhuman strength. But I’ll let her be impressed, just this once.
She has music playing—probably to block out any sound I make.
I dig out and hand her the crown, biting back every princess comment that comes to mind. Instead, I drop my backpack and hook my index finger behind the spaghetti strap of her black dress. “You were undeniably the queen tonight.”
She chuffs, brushing off the compliment but allowing my touch. She points at the blood splattered on my white shirt. “I’m sorry the guys at my school are such jerks.”
“Nah, I’m good. I might have egged them on a bit.”
“When it’s three to one? How smart is that?”
I shrug. The hole in my lip is already half-healed, but she wouldn’t know that. “You’re right. It was stupid.” I grin and head to the bathroom to brush the taste of iron out of my mouth, so she’ll kiss me again.
When I come back, I find she hasn’t moved. She’s just standing there, watching me.
Considering.
No, she’s nervous.
I don’t know why I didn’t pick it up before, but I do now. When I listen close, I hear her heartbeat pumping faster than it should. Smell the tinge of fear in her scent, mingled with arousal.