Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

U SHOULD HAVE KISSED ME.

With a deep, happy sigh, I shuffle to my bed and plop down. My fingers work swiftly over the touch screen. IF U WERE HERE I WOULD.

I have barely sent the message by the time I hear the quiet clink, clink, clink of small rocks hitting my bedroom window. My phone chimes again.

OPEN WINDOW.

I can’t stop the blush that comes to my skin from just the suggestion that Jeremy might be outside. I shuffle to the closed window and peek down at the grass below, surprised that Jeremy made it past the security alarm. Dad has the entire property pretty well alarmed, especially these days. But I suppose that’s the benefit of dating a prospect—he knows where the alarms are and how to avoid them.

Anticipation builds in my gut as I drag up the aging wooden window casing, clearing a path for Jeremy’s entrance. I look down alongside the house and realize one of Dad’s ladders is already propped up.

I cast a look at Jeremy and shake my head ruefully. He planned this. And I couldn’t be happier. I place my index finger to my lips and make a shushing sound, hoping he gets the gist of it. And he does, because when he climbs up the ladder, it’s in near silence.

At the top of the ladder, he smiles widely, his blue eyes gleaming in the artificial light. I take a step back and gesture with my hand to welcome him in. Part of me can’t believe I’m actually inviting a date into my room. This has never happened before. Not that I never wanted it to happen, but with how overbearing my dad is, no other boy has had the balls to do something like this.

“You planned this,” I whisper accusingly.

He shrugs his shoulders, tilts his head downward, and crooks his index finger for me to come closer. His feet are placed shoulder width apart, and he stands with such confidence that I can barely believe he’s only eighteen.

As if I have no choice, my feet carry me forward until I’m practically pressed up against his muscular frame. We’re so close. We’ve never been this close before. My hands find their way to the still-fresh leather that hangs off his shoulders. When I look up and catch the devious smile on his lips, I instinctively press myself into him. His face moves closer to mine, slowly and purposefully. My chest constricts, and it’s difficult to breathe. I reach up, even going so far as to stretch on my tiptoes, and lightly drag my desperate lips against his.

As if reading my mind, he whispers, “This is why I didn’t want you to wear lipstick.”

He takes over then, slamming his lips to mine. My hands reach out and wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, so desperate for more. I peek my tongue out and drag it along his lip. Eagerly, he opens his mouth to me, and our kiss moves from sweet to sinful. Kissing Jeremy is everything I thought it would be and more. I’ve waited for this for so long that actually having it makes me feel as though I’m about to combust.

His hand reaches out and cups my ass. With a firm grip on my pliant flesh, he pulls me hard against him and bucks his hips. I’m not prepared for it, and I stumble backward. Jeremy stabilizes me, pulls in closer, and resumes his handsy and deliciously sexy ways. My body yearns for his touch and attention, but in the back of my head, something doesn’t feel right. He’s being too aggressive. Still, he walks me backward until my knees hit the edge of my bed, and I’m forced to bend at the knee and sit down. Bending down and parting my legs with his knee, he covers his body with mine, leaving me little choice but to lie back and allow his heavy frame to cover me. His leg further parts mine as he rocks himself into my core.

His lips command my heart, and his body commands my attention, but it’s all too much too soon. We’ve only been on one date, and it wasn’t like we got any time alone. This doesn’t feel like the start of a relationship. It feels like a hookup, and I don’t like that so much.

My hands press into his chest as I try to force him off of me. He’s insistent in his attempts, but so am I. With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push him off me and take his surprise as an opportunity to slip away and scramble off my bed.

“What is your problem?” he asks quietly but with as much malice as if he had screamed it.

“No, what is your problem?”

I was the one being mauled, not him.

“You let me in your bedroom. What did you think was going to happen?”

I’m left speechless. I don’t know the code for making out with guys in your bedroom, so I’m caught off guard by the suggestion that I’ve done something wrong. Jeremy’s hard stare redirects to the window. His feet follow, and before I know it, he’s out the window and staring at me in annoyance. He opens his mouth, but I have no desire to hear anything from him right now. I should have believed the rumors that float around school about how he’s only ever interested in one thing.

“Don’t open your mouth,” I warn him, “or I will push this ladder to the ground and then scream for my dad.”