“I’m not afraid of you.” That’s a lie. Everything about Marek is designed to scare me.
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You and I both know that isn’t true.” As he pulls back, he inspects every line on my face.
“Does that give you a thrill, to know you have me on edge, Marek?” I lift my chin, nearly grazing my lips against his.
“Maybe a little bit.” He teases my lips with his, only to pull away and sit across from me.
“Now that you have me here, why don’t you tell me why you went to all this trouble for a girl who doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night. You sort of ran off this morning before I could say anything.”
“You mean after you ignored me when the boys mentioned the shit that went down between us.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to discuss our situation in front of them. Not exactly something you want to send out in a newsletter, now is it?”
“Not the stuff that happened with Byron or everything that happened in your bedroom.” I raise an eyebrow. “Which reminds me, how did they know?”
“We have video surveillance in the house.” He grins, knowing fully well what’s been seen on those cameras.
“In each of your bedrooms? Don’t you think that’s a violation of others’ privacy, especially if we don’t consent to it?”
“It doesn’t record,”— he reaches across the table and grabs my hand— “if that makes you feel better.”
“Not really.”
“What do you want me to say? We don’t keep secrets, Palmer. The minute you walk through the front door, you consent to be an open book. That’s how we work. It’s how we stay loyal.” He squeezes his hand around mine, gently begging me to understand.
“You’re asking me to comprehend the inner workings of you boys’ minds, and I don’t think I’ll ever understand what it is you four mean to each other.”
“Would you like to?” Marek grabs my wrist, lifting my open hand to his mouth and nibbling on the ends of each of my fingers. Every bite is a little more intense than the one before.
“I’m not into the things my sister was, Marek,” I explain. “Last night was a lapse in judgment. Byron found me in a moment of weakness after you told me to live life, and then you showed up in the room, and I couldn’t . . .”
“Couldn’t what, Palmer?” He stands, reaching out to me. I trustingly place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. He twirls my back to his chest, pinning my thighs against the table, practically bending me over. His fingers wrap around my ponytail and yank tight enough to pull at the hair on my scalp. The burn is a sensation I never believed I’d enjoy. “What was it you couldn’t do, huh?”
“Resist you.” I’ve handed my body over to him without question, and now, he holds onto my mind.
“What was it you liked about it?” His other hand slides down to explore the back of my leg.
“You watching him touch me, knowing it was killing you. That’s the part I liked.” At my confession, I’m spun back around, bringing my chest flush against Marek’s.
“You and I, Palmer Weston, might not be that different after all.” His hands find their home in my hair while his lips lower to mine, offering me a slow and steady kiss that has my knees buckling. Marek’s movements are quick. He holds me up, offering me a sly smile as I pull my lips away from his. “Don’t ever show your weakness around us. We’ll use it against you. Even if we’re the ones that force it out of its hiding spot.”
Chapter Six
Marek
Palmer lifts her chin, giving me a glimpse of her soul through her eyes. The soft lighting reveals icy blues with flecks of silver around the pupils, deep like the ocean and as alluring as the sea. Why does this girl have me all twisted up? Seeing her is easy. I’m not afraid of what she’ll discover inside of me.
“Okay,” she whispers, leaning into my hand on her cheek.
One simple word seemingly hands her over to me. Okay.
“Let’s get you back home,” I offer, turning towards the back doors I know Breaker snuck them in through.
Palmer’s warm hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I skim from where she’s connected us up to her face. Like I said, the girl is easy to see.
“What if I say I don’t want to go home?” Her tone is unapologetic.
Well, fuck. Her question is very much unexpected.
She leads me through the darkened building. Once outside, she releases my hand, and I follow her down the sidewalk.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but it’s easy to ignore. Nothing can distract me from a smile like Palmer’s as she glances back at me. She’s clearly up to something. What that is, I intend to find out.
“Not that much farther,” Palmer calls over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m enjoying the view.” I appreciate the perfect curve of her back onto her ass that’s swaying. Whoever chose these school uniforms is doing me a favor. Short skirts are my undoing.
She turns to walk backwards, grinning with a soft chuckle under her breath. “Is that so?”
“It is.” I take two large steps and invade her space. She tries to pull away, but I’m quick, wrapping my arm around her waist and tugging her close. “Now, where exactly are you taking me? Don’t you know it’s not safe to traipse around campus at night?”
“You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, Marek, would you?” Unspoken desire is alive and well in her eyes.
At the trust in her voice, my stomach churns. Letting her in, being out here with her, will only make the inevitable harder. This can go nowhere. Yet, I follow her through campus like she’s my personal Pied Piper.
“Only thing happening to you is from my hands, Palmer,” I say into the darkness. The things I would do to this girl, if she only knew.
Her hands stall on the doors leading into the gymnasium. I assume they’re locked, but she smiles at me as she pulls them wide open.
“You boys aren’t the only ones who know things.” She bites her bottom lip as she glances back at me. “And I think I can handle whatever your hands have planned.”
“Don’t be so sure.” I walk past her.
The hallways are dark. The only sound comes from our breaths and Palmer’s shoes hitting the tiled floor. Without hesitation, she follows me. Someone needs to teach this girl self-preservation. Girls only follow me for one reason. To be used. Palmer doesn’t seem like the usable type.
I open the door and immediately a wall of heat and the smell of chlorine hit me. The lights in the pool create a soft, blue ripple in the water. Palmer pushes past me to the pool’s edge and slips off her shoes. The muscles in her legs stretch as she stands on her tiptoes. I’m going to need to remember to thank whoever decided this should be the girls’ uniform.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I sit on the bench the swim team uses during meets.
Palmer sheds her jacket, dropping it to the wet floor at her feet. Over her shoulder, she watches me, teasing me as she grips the bottom of her tank top.