“You don’t have to fight tooth and nail, you know,” he tells me casually, moving my arms behind my back so he can keep me restrained and free up his other hand. “I like a little struggle, but you can take it down a notch.”
He is so infuriating. I struggle harder, looking out at the road for potential help. There’s no one outside across the street, no one driving by, so I cast a desperate glance back at my house. Right now would be a convenient time for my mother to be spying on me through a window, so of course she isn’t. “Carter, seriously. Forget me telling on you, this is a good way to get caught red-handed.”
“Stop fighting me and you’ll get me out of here faster.” His free hand moves to my chest now, groping my right breast. He palms it, his dark eyes locked on my face.
For a sliver of a moment, there’s a break in my focus on getting away from him. Curiosity tugs at me. He’s searching my gaze for something, but I don’t know what. He knows I don’t want to be touched—he’s admitted as much. It’s part of the fun for him. So, why does it feel like he’s looking for interest? He can’t honestly think he’s going to find any, can he?
Knowing my step-dad will be pulling in any minute, I swallow down my feelings and curiosities. Meeting Carter’s gaze as if his actions don’t rattle me, I ask, “Are you done?”
His hand leaves my breast, but only to slide up under my T-shirt so he can touch me without the fabric barrier between us. “Not just yet.”
Over the shirt, I thought I could deal with, but under the shirt is a different story. My arms are still locked behind my back, though, so I can’t fight him off physically. “Carter… please stop touching me.”
“I like when you say please,” he tells me, smiling faintly while he ignores my request. “It’s cute.”
“Then I’ll never say it again.”
He shakes his head as he catches the weight of my breast in his palm, running his thumb over my pebbled nipple. “That’s the wrong tack, Ellis. I don’t find it cute when you’re petulant.”
“I don’t want you to find me cute. I want you to leave me alone.”
He nods his head toward the car. “Then take a ride with me. I’ll fuck you now and get you out of my system.”
“Go to hell,” I tell him, shifting to try to dislodge his hand. I gasp as he squeezes my nipple. There’s a bite of pain, but a strange sort of tension lying just beneath it. It feels weird, but I actually don’t completely hate it.
I hate him, though.
“I don’t know why I like these so much,” he murmurs, playing with my breast. I seethe as he brushes his thumb across the nipple, caresses my flesh, gives it a squeeze. As if we’re friends and he’s sharing something in confidence, he tells me, “I’m normally an ass man. Haven’t even touched yours yet.”
“There is no yet,” I say, trying again to pull back, but his arm just locks around me tighter. “Look, I am really tryin’ not to make trouble with you, Carter, but you’re makin’ it impossible. What is wrong with you assholes? When you get in trouble for something, you’re supposed to stop doing it, not come back for more and make it worse.”
His explanation is simple and crushing at the same time. “You have no power over us, Zoey. I know you fucked up Jake’s year, maybe you feel all proud of yourself, but we both know you can’t fuck up mine. You can’t touch me. You can try, if you want to. I’ll bury you if you do. I wouldn’t advise it, but hell, if your honor is so damned important to you, go ahead and take me on, princess. Let’s see who emerges the ultimate victor.”
I know he’s right, but that injustice is difficult to swallow.
“Or,” he says, releasing my breast and cutting his gaze toward the road as a car slows to a stop in front of my house, “you can roll with it. Reap the benefits. You’ve already sucked my dick, so I owe you a dinner, don’t I?” he almost teases, smoothing his hand down the outside of my arm for the benefit of our approaching audience. “Just say yes.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” he murmurs, releasing me and taking a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you study those notes. You might learn something,” he says with a wink, before dropping into the driver’s seat and pulling his door shut.
I wrap my arms around myself as he fires up the engine, but I don’t wait around to watch him back out of the driveway. Instead, I head inside the house to retrieve those notes. Now that he said that, I’m worried he wrote something my mom shouldn’t see, and I left them out on the kitchen counter.