He’s still at Blake’s. He’d freak if he saw me in here. I twist the knob and barge in, flicking the light on and wincing at the mess. Dirty clothes all over the floor, a smelly, empty pizza box on his desk. Boys will be boys. At least his bed is made. Even gone, he’s affecting my life. He’s always been the first choice. The one who mattered. The priority. With Blake. With my fucking dad.
With everyone.
And now… It’s happening all over again with Will. In all fairness, it wouldn’t hurt for you to stop going after his friends. I know this one’s on me. I’ve made my bed. Time to lie in it.
Will’s voice echoes in my head. You can’t make your own decisions right now. He still sees me as Kendrick’s little sister. Poor, defenseless Kass. He needs to stop.
I’ll make him stop.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He’s standing in the doorway, a glass of water in hand.
“Oh, you know, just making my own decisions.”
He sighs. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“No.”
“No?” he repeats as if he misheard me.
“You heard me. I’m making the decision to stay here.” I begin shuffling through Kendrick’s stuff: the cheap trophy he won at soccer when he was a kid, the baseball he used to throw around with my dad, the math book collecting dust on his desk.
“Kass, let’s go,” Will presses.
“See? I can make my own decisions. I can choose to do this.” I pick up the trophy, chucking it to the ground. Will winces. “And this.” I give the dirty clothes on the ground a kick. “I’m free as free as a bird, Willy. The only person who can’t see that is you.”
“I said let’s go,” he scolds, venturing inside the room and seeking to catch my arm, which I throw out of reach.
“I can do this.” I continue making a mess of Kendrick’s stuff. Not that my brother will notice. “And this.”
Irritated, Will slams the glass down on the nightstand and shuts the door. Probably to snap my head off without waking Winter. This time, he successfully snatches my wrist into his hand. Our bodies collide. I don’t say a word, defiance devouring me as my fingers trail down his chest tentatively.
He holds his breath.
He just said it.
He said he feels it, too. That he’s attracted to me, and I sure as hell am going to use that to my advantage.
“But, you see, the best part about making my own decisions is… that I can do this.”
I don’t wait for my common sense to kick in. For wise Kass to take the reins. I push to my tiptoes, grab his collar, and crash my mouth to his. His lips are warm, soft—welcoming. At first, I consider the absence of a rejection a good sign.
Then I realize something.
He’s not kissing me back.
I just forced myself on him. What in the fuck is wrong with me? Ashamed, I back away, babbling a squeaky “I’m so sorry.” His blue eyes are dark, unreadable. He doesn’t accept nor acknowledge my apology, staring at me in shock. I search his features for a clue as to what might be going on in that messy head of his.
Nothing.
He gives me nothing.
His reaction seems to take forever when in reality, it’s pretty quick. He shakes his head, jerks me back to him, and kisses me again.
Harder.
Deeper.
He did what?
His mouth comes down on mine roughly, blaming me for snipping his already thin resolve. This is all your fault, his lips accuse. I tried to do the right thing. Now it’s too late. Our kiss is just as heated, if not more, than the one we shared at the tree house. We barely pull away for air, reluctant to part for a split second. Is he scared, too? Scared that we’ll wake up and realize how wrong this is?
Scared that we’ll be forced to stop?
My hands climb under his shirt, my fingers shadowing his V line, as he tugs my head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue requests access and I give it to him instantly. Before I know it, I’m straddling him, legs on each side of his body, his chest flush with mine. We never stop kissing.
Until…
“Kass. Wait…” He pants. “We… We can’t.”
Certain this is where our lapse of judgment ends, I try and get off his lap, but he holds me in place. With every protest coming out of his mouth comes another kiss, another touch. He’s not letting me go.
He doesn’t want to stop.
I jerk his T-shirt over his head, in awe of his fit, toned body as I sway my hips back and forth and create friction, which, judging by his grunts, he definitely can’t ignore.
I’m practically grinding on him.
I’m sorry, who is she?
He’s hard as a rock, and my thin shorts make me feel… a lot, to say the least. I’m positive I’m in trouble when he traps my lip between his teeth and strips off my baggy shirt, undressing me so fast I barely have a chance to realize I’m in my bra in front of him for the first time.
His eyes rake over my body hungrily, and he swings me off his lap, pinning me down to the mattress and smiling at my white bralette, which displays bright, yellow smiley faces where my hard nipples stick out.
“And you blame me for seeing you as a good little girl?” he pokes fun at me. Refusing to let him mock me a second longer, I grip his dick. No warning. He sucks in a breath.
“Take it back,” I order.
“What?”
“You know what.” I tighten my hold on his length.
He smirks. “What? That you’re a good little girl?” He lures me back in to say against my mouth, “Something wrong with the truth, control freak?”
He once told me he thought I had no idea what to do in bed.
I’m going to prove him wrong.
Out for revenge, I unzip his jeans and wander a hand inside.
His eyes grow.
“Kass, you don’t have t—” he starts, but I plaster my mouth to his, gathering the courage to go all the way and grab him in his boxers.
“Holy shit.” He groans at my touch.
I push him off me, straddling his legs and yanking his boxers down to his knees in one move. He’s fully exposed now. There’s no denying it: this would hurt. When I spit on my hand, he responds with a surprised, carnal look.
I know, Will, I know.
Rest in peace, prudish Kass.
I lower my hand onto him, and he grips the blanket, a low “Fuck” escaping his lips, as he throws his head back. His reaction drives me wild. I work him slowly at first, then faster, until I feel him throb between my fingers. His eyes snap open, and he looks at me like he can’t believe what’s happening.
“Stop.” He jerks my hand away.
Fear fills me.
This is it. The part where he pushes me away.
The part where he runs.
I’m the one in disbelief when he does the polar opposite, trapping me under his body again and propping himself up as he kisses me. Except that he’s completely naked now, and I can feel every bit of him push against the fabric of my shorts.
Crap, I’m totally going to do something stupid, aren’t I?
I squirm as he kisses his way down my stomach, pulling my shorts down my legs and laying a hand on my panties the exact same way he did back at the tree house.
“Will,” I say, a bit nervous.
He looks up at me, a devilish smirk on his face, and begins placing kisses all over the inside of my thighs—payback for my teasing.