He laughs so loudly and grins so hard, a dimple indents his left cheek. “No. Why? Are you?”
I groan, ready to just pack up and leave, but where would I go? “Hints lost on you?”
An elbow from Jessica knocks me lightly in the rib. “You’re being rude.”
“Hint?Why,whatever do you mean?” he asks playfully, ignoring Jessica and the minions who I can hear whispering and giggling.
My eyes narrow on him, and he studies my scowl as if amused.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I snap.
“‘Cause you’re ugly,” he says, his tone dropping a few decimals.
“Good!” I spit out. “Then stop looking at me.”
“Aren’t you a bit young to be at a party like this?” I hear a snigger and peer up quickly to see Max and Xander Butcher standing beside Bronson’s lounging body. I drop my line-of-sight back to Bronson and his annoying face.
I scoff, well and truly over this Butcher bully bullshit. They may run the halls and have the teachers wrapped around their fingers, but not here. “It’s my house, brainiac. It’s my sister’s party. What’s your excuse? High school kids at a college party? You’re like thirteen.”
Bronson frowns. “Fourteen-”
I glance up at Xander, who I think is ten. “Shouldn’t your brother be in bed?”
“He’s fine-”
“Oh wait.Let me guess. Yournannycame in here to get laid and left you three in the car, and you thought no one would notice howtinyyou are?”
His right eyebrow twitches. “You are the ugliest girl with the dumbest fucking hair and the plainest eyes.”
He grins again, as if an insult is somehow going to drive home his dominance. He can’t intimidate me. I relax my face, then lather my tongue over my lower lip before nibbling at it slightly. Bronson fixates on my mouth like a cat does a mouse.
“Really?” I purr, edging a slither closer to him, ignoring the way my body wants to feel the heat of his. How it wants to taste those smirking lips. “So youdon’twant to kiss me then?”
One of his brows rise, expressive and full of hubris. He swipes his nose over mine, breath hitting breath. My heart pounds in my ears, but I try to drown it out, not wanting him to hear it. It is that fucking loud.
Finally, he breathes words against my lips. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last girl on earth.”
His scent floats all over me - a medley of male pheromones and soap and sweat. And my whole body wants to rock towards his, but as our lips brush, I pull back and snort. “You’re dreaming, Bronson Butcher.”
“Oh shit,” I hear Xander mutter.
In one second, Bronson’s face goes blank. The next, it switches, dark and unidentifiable - he may as well have shape-shifted. He grabs the nape of my neck, pushing me quickly towards him and mashing our lips together. As I try to get free, he evades my mouth’s wet center with his tongue. Slapping at him, at his shoulder, at his chest, I try to fight him off. I squeal into his mouth. A tongue like a whip lashes at me, mixing aggression with passion, moving in and around my lips.
My whole body sets on fire.
Finally, he releases my neck, my mouth, and I gasp for air. Growling, I swing my palm into the side of his cheek so hard the sting radiates up to my elbow. Hissing low, I try to hide the sounds of pain leaving my throbbing limb.
Everything is suddenly on mute. Slowed. My actions have shocked me just as much as they seem to have shocked him. He stares at me as though I have just sprouted another head. With his mood-gem eyes drilling into my soul, he lifts his hand to work his jaw and cheek, rubbing the place I hit with all my might. For a second, I can’t breathe. Unsure of what he’ll do next. What I’ll do next. What even just happened.
Then a slow cocky-arse smile slides across his lips, and he mouths, “I love you.”
I clench my teeth to stop smiling because it’s not funny. He’s not funny. I’m not amused. Why do my lips want to curve? Fight the fucking curve; this is not cute.
This behaviour is disgusting.
I slam my book shut, needing to get as far away from him as possible. I jump to my feet and nearly stumble. Feeling his eyes follow me as I walk around the pool, I shoulder guests twice my size out of the way. For reasons unknown, my feet stop suddenly mid-stride. My neck and back are blanketed in heat, like hot flames licking around me in search of oxygen. I take two big breaths before twisting my torso to see him again. His trained gaze makes my heart leap into my throat, so I spin back around and run through the house to my bedroom.
When I enter, I slam the door behind me and crawl into bed, pull the blankets up like I used to do when I was a kid, and hide under them.