twelve
Harper Apple
Royal shoves Mabel’s clothes back at me and pushes open the door to the main building, holding it while he nudges me in with that possessive touch on the small of my back. We enter the hallway as everyone is filing out of their classes. I don’t know what I’m watching for. I start down the hall, feeling the heady tension of Royal’s presence behind me. Someone catcalls me, and Royal steps over and clocks the guy. He goes down like a ton of bricks.
“What the fuck,” I ask, spinning on him. I’m just in time to see a guy making a lewd gesture at me, and Royal decking that guy, too.
“Keep walking, sweetheart,” Royal says. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
Everyone crowds around the guys who fell, and we keep walking, until we reach the next group who doesn’t know what just happened, and someone pinches my ass. Royal spares a minute to grab the guy by the collar and punch him in the face four or five times before I grab him. He lets me drag him off and shoots me a crooked smile. “By the way, you look absolutely fuckable in my jacket. Don’t ever take that off.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” I snap. “I don’t need you to pull this shit, especially because you’re the one who caused it to begin with. Seriously, Royal. Stop.”
He crowds in on me, his hands landing on my hips as he walks me backwards down the hall. “They’re the ones who need to stop,” he says. “Their playtime is over. You’re mine now, and they need to know it.”
“Trust me, they’ll know it. Just let the word get around. I can handle a few days of catcalls. I’m so used to it, I don’t even hear it most of the time. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Yo, Royal,” someone calls. “You gonna test her out and see if she’s as good as she looks in the video?”
Royal releases me long enough to punch out the guy, who stumbles back and crashes against the lockers.
“Yeah, well, it bothers me,” he says, raking his hand through his dark hair and adjusting his sleeves before giving me a grin that is positively devilish.
Damn him. My panties are wet in one second flat when he looks at me like that, but my heart is also breaking. His eyes are alive and shining, the way I’ve only seen them after the car race. I wish I’d known the boy he was two years ago, the boy who probably always smiled like that.
“That’s why you fight, isn’t it?” I say, halfway to myself. “Not for the money. You enjoy it. You need it. It makes you feel alive.”
“You make me feel alive,” he says, sliding a possessive arm around my waist and pulling my body flush against his. He flattens one huge hand against the small of my back, sliding the other one under the front of his letter jacket to squeeze my breast. “This is why they call you Appleteeny, isn’t it? Your tits are like two little apples.”
I stare up at him, my heart pounding as we stand in the middle of the crowded, noisy hall, confessing that we know this about each other. He’s admitting he fights. He knows I fight.
He takes his hand out of my jacket and runs it roughly up the back of my head, making a mess of my hair as he fists a handful of it and presses his forehead to mine. “I want to pin you up against the lockers and fuck you right now,” he says, bending me backwards as he crushes my body against his with one hand and leans in like he’s going to kiss me, his other hand still cradling my head. “Let me feel that wet pussy you like to brag about so much.”
“Royal, what the fuck,” I say, my voice breathless. “What are you doing to me? You said I was your toy, and you were going to ruin me.”
“So be my darling doll and let me have a little fun while I play with you,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “I want to hurt you so good you can’t stop moaning for more.”
“I can’t do this,” I say, trying to keep my feet under me and my head on my shoulders. It’s all too much. I wonder who he fucks after his fights on Saturday, because if punching out a few guys got him this horny, he’d better have someone on standby at the Slaughterpen.
“You’re not a virgin,” he whispers against my lips. “You can take me.”
Heat ripples through me, and I grip his shoulders. “We’re in the middle of the hall.”
His eyes snap open, and he straightens, his huge hand swallowing mine as he pulls me down the hall and into the darkened library. This is not what I meant. I wanted in, but it’s way too fucking fast, the way he’s trying to consume me like the demon he calls himself. I balk, trying to break his grip, but he drags me across the room and pulls open the shelf that hides the door to the basement. My blood runs cold, and my legs shake for a whole new reason.
“Stop,” I say, my voice so loud it echoes through the empty room.
He pushes me against the inside of the door to the basement, his hips pinning mine. “I can’t stop,” he whispers, brushing my hair back and kissing my forehead. “You make me lose my fucking mind, Harper Apple.”
“I thought you were disgusted by me,” I say. “Not half an hour ago, you said I smell bad and you wanted nothing to do with me.”
He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his inky lashes casting shadows over his chiseled cheeks. He’s so beautiful I could cry.
“Can’t you tell when a man is lying through his teeth?” he asks, his voice rough with desire, his hand gripping my hip painfully even as his face remains so gentle.
“No,” I admit, a tremor in my voice. “Despite your constant shaming, I know very little about men, and nothing about ones like you.”
“Then know this,” he says, turning his face so his skin brushes against mine, sending a wave of erotic energy rushing over me. “When we go down those stairs, I’m not going to make you fuck me. But I’m going to make you wish I had.”