Burying my face in his neck, I brush kisses along his collarbone and moan as he hits me in just the right spot. Eyes rolling in the back of my head, I hold onto him tighter. My gaze meets two little marks that I never thought I’d see again. Tracing the lines on his pec, I remember the very first time he showed me what he’d done. The tattoo was still red and puffy then, but I’d touched him just as I did now. He told me the lines represented us, two entities equal to each other. But I could tell just by looking into his eyes that there was more to the story—something he wasn’t willing to share. And like always, I let him have his secret.
I begin saying something when his phone starts ringing. He ignores it, grabbing onto my hips and grazing my ass to pump harder into me. When I try moving to see who’s calling, he kisses me with everything in him. It’s how I know whose name is lighting up his screen.
“Corbin—”
“Don’t,” he pleads, his cock hardening in me as he lays me back down and fucks me harder.
Because that’s what this is.
Fucking.
Screwing.
Nothing more.
The tears that well now make their way down my cheeks as he buries his face in my neck and thrusts a few more times before reaching between us and playing with my clit.
“Don’t,” I tell him, stopping his hand.
He sits up on his arms and slows his movements, brows pinching. “Kinley…”
“Just finish.”
“Kinley—”
“Just fucking come, Corbin!” I hiss, grabbing onto his shoulders and kissing him with a ferocity that has him stunned as he begins moving again.
Harder and harder and harder.
Until—
“Fuck.” He pulls out just as he comes, hot stickiness hitting the inside of my leg while I stare at how his chest rises and falls.
His phone starts ringing again.
I dare to look. Because I hate myself. Because I need to punish myself like Beck does.
Swallowing, I say, “You should probably answer that.”
Sitting up, I grab his discarded shirt from the floor and wipe myself off before collecting my clothes that are scattered everywhere.
“Kinley,” he whispers, not picking up the cell that so blatantly displays Lena’s name.
I wave it off. “It’s not like I didn’t know.”
And that’s the problem.
Because I’d do it again.
Chapter Fifteen
Kinley / 16
Midweek I’m huddled up in the library with my new favorite notebook in front of me. My hand is grasping a test with a big red letter circled on the top that I’m not accustomed to seeing. Setting it down next to the story I’ve been writing in Earth Science, I realize there shouldn’t be any surprise as to why I failed.
When a familiar pair of fancy sneakers comes into view, I look up at Zach just as he sits down next to me. His eyes go to my exam. “Shit.” He winces and sits back. “I didn’t do well either in that class. Surprised you’re struggling. The way Corbin talks…”
I blow out a breath and shove the test inside my notebook before closing it. “Corbin gives me too much credit. Anyway, how are you two? Have things been okay?”
My eyes scan over the faded shiner. He and Corbin got into a fight over a week ago. When I heard about it from some girl in the hall, I confronted Corbin and asked if it was true. He hadn’t shown up at my house to help me study the day it happened, and the puffy nature of his knuckles told me why.
I learned quickly that boy fights are nothing like girl ones. Apparently, Zach made a comment about Corbin’s role in the school play. The rehearsals have been almost every day since Christmas break ended because the first show is set to premiere right before Valentine’s Day. When Corbin admitted he’d hit Zach for giving him crap about it, I didn’t believe him. But Zach didn’t confirm or deny anything when I asked him.
“Yeah, Kin. We’re good,” Zach muses, throwing one foot up on the tiny table between us. “So, what’s the deal with the test?”
Biting down on my inner cheek, I give him a limp shrug. “I haven’t been paying attention, it’s my fault.”
He watches me for a second before pulling his water bottle out from the side of his bag next to him. “Is that why you’re sulking in here? Pretty sure Corbin was looking for you.”
Everyone knows that Corbin and I are joined at the hip. Ever since the sort-of kiss on Christmas Eve, things have been strange. Neither of us have brought it up when we hangout, but we find ourselves holding hands or using each other as pillows during movies or study sessions. It’s like we decided silently to pursue something without any conversation.
“What are you doing here?” I ask skeptically. Zach already told me he isn’t a fan of books, which led to me jokingly tell him we couldn’t be friends. Given he’s still around, he didn’t take the threat seriously.
He stuffs the bottle between his thigh and the side of the chair. “I was over by the computers playing games when I saw you moping.”
“I’m not moping!”
He tilts his head and raises his brows.
I sigh. “Okay, maybe a little. I never fail anything. I’ve always done well in school, but I can’t blame anyone but myself. I never even studied for this stupid exam.”
“So, study next time,” he states simply.
Realistically, it is as easy as that. All it takes is an hour a day the week leading up to an exam to get the material down. I’ve done it plenty of times before, but now my focus is on anything but school.
Despite that, I say, “You’re right,” and study the oncoming students walking to the side exit. Their jokes and giggles make me smile and miss Corbin. It’s a weird feeling to miss someone you see often, and I’m not sure I like it. When I wake up, I think about him. Before bed, I think about him. It’s easy to channel that when I’m writing about Ryker and Beck because I want them to be realistic—conflicted and confused and happy and awkward. It seems to be exactly what Corbin and I are. Like we want to be something more but don’t know how.
Zach tosses a balled-up piece of paper at me, but it bounces off my knee and lands on the floor. “You going to the game tomorrow night?”
The muffled snort that comes out of my mouth makes him laugh. “Uh, no. You remember how I said sports aren’t my thing like reading isn’t yours?”
His puppy dog look is better than any other I’ve seen, but it still doesn’t work. “You won’t even come to support your favorite player? Come on, Kinley, don’t do me like that.”
“She won’t be doing you at all, Russo,” a new voice says coolly from behind my chair.
Turning, I see Corbin staring at me. I wiggle my fingers at him. “Hey. I figured I’d see you later.”
Corbin’s eyes go to Zach and something flashes in them, but before I can ask what, he glances back at me with a blank expression. “A few people said they saw you here. Figured I’d bring you lunch since you skipped again.”
“I didn’t skip…” In fact, I can still taste the peanut butter from the sandwich I’d eaten in the computer lab. I almost got yelled at by the teacher who’s a stickler about eating by the computers but hauled butt out of there before he could even open his mouth.