God, I was a basket case. Why was he even here? Helping me? Any other guy would run for the hills. My life was a fucking mess, a big, sloppy mess. I took a deep breath and nodded, steeling myself.You’re not alone,I repeated Brock’s words to myself as I gathered my stuff and opened the door.
The lot was crowded with students, more than usual. They were hanging around their cars; others were out in front of the building, but it seemed as if everyone was holding off going inside, waiting for something. Or someone, I soon realized. I just didn’t know if it was Brock or me that had them gathered like a flock of geese.
I swore all conversation stopped as I hopped out of Brock’s SUV, hundreds of eyes glued to us. Brock came around to my side of the car. Something in the way he strode toward me with purpose in his eyes made me wary. I watched him, securing my bag over my shoulder. His fingers tangled into my hair while his other hand went to my hip.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, blinking up at him.
Eyes locked on mine, he held me prisoner. “Making a statement,” he murmured right before his lips crushed over mine.
What the—
My brain short-circuited at the first touch of his lips, and for a long moment, I stood there, completely unsure of what was happening and of myself. Then his tongue touched my lips and a floodgate opened, emotion pouring through me. I no longer cared why Brock was kissing me, just that he never stopped.
The bag on my shoulder fell to the ground as I wound my hands around his neck, fitting our bodies together. His hand at my hip pushed me back until my ass hit the car. I parted my lips on a gasp, and his tongue swept in. It was a kiss meant to make an impression—to brand me. It was a kiss that made me forget the horror of Friday night.
He unsealed our lips as abruptly as he had dived in. Dark lashes fanned over guarded eyes, but I was lost in the depths of them.
“Why did you stop?” I whispered breathlessly.
His husky laugh glazed over my swollen lips. “If there weren’t a parking lot of people right now, I would take you in the back of my car.”
A whimpering noise purred in my throat, and my fingers tightened in his hair. Not to mention what his words did to my insides. People? What people? I lifted on my toes, taking his lower lip between my teeth, needing his lips again, needing him to make me forget. His kiss made me realize the only time I felt alive, the only time I felt safe was when his lips were on mine. I didn’t want the feeling to end. Not yet. Not when I’d just found it again.
“Firefly, I swear to God—”
I pressed my lips to his again, silencing his protest before he finished. This time when he broke off the kiss, he backed away, keeping me at arm’s length. My body sank against the side of the SUV. His eyes were an unbridled turmoil of passion and caution, as if he didn’t trust me. “If you do that thing with your tongue one more time, we’re both going to end up in detention.”
My lips curved. “What thing?” I said, feigning innocence. Something told me he was no stranger to the principal’s office.
“Stay there,” he warned, raking a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I angled my head to the side, no longer caring about school or being late. “Which part? You kissing me? Or you enjoying it?” Feeling stronger and encouraged by his reaction, I took a step toward him.
He held out a hand, warding me off like I was some sort of temptress. “God, I don’t know what it is about your lips.”
Clarity broke through. “Why did you kiss me then?”
Now it was Brock who was smirking, like a cat who caught the canary. “Because you’re ours.”
Ours. Not mine. The high I’d been riding dissipated at Brock’s declaration, extinguishing the burning flame inside me. He had stamped me property of the Elite in front of the entire school. And those who didn’t see our very public kiss would hear about it by the end of the day. Everyone would know.
Chapter Fifteen
Ifelt myself get riled up. It was amazing how quick need could flip to anger. “Newsflash, Taylor. No one owns me,” I hissed. “Not you. Not your friends. And certainly not this school.” Each phrase was punctuated with my finger in his chest. And afterward, I didn’t want to admit it, but my fucking finger hurt.
His lips twitched, and the asshole Brock was back. “Good. That’s better. You’ll need that fight. It’s the only way to survive here.”
WTH.
This whole thing was a ploy, a way to mark me so no one would mess with me. Perhaps I should be grateful for whatever reason Brock extended his protection. The problem was, I didn’t want to beowned. “Kiss my ass, Taylor,” I said, spinning on my heels and stalking off toward the school.
And thanks to Brock, his stunt, and the video I started another week being the hot topic. It wasn’t just the girls that looked at me differently—the guys did too. Unlike the girls, who glared at me with equal parts envy and hatred, the guys were wary, keeping their distance as if they were afraid to so much as say hi to me.
Great. Brock had labeled me a fucking pariah.
By lunch, I was ready to wring Brock Taylor’s neck. That rage only doubled when I strolled into the cafeteria and saw some floozy on his lap. I swore, steam blew out of my ears. It wasn’t so much that a few hours ago his lips had been locked on mine as it was who was on his lap.
Fucking. Ava.