Roaming her body with my eyes, I took in the caramel tone of her tanned skin and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like covered with sweat. The curve of her neck as it met her shoulder, the water droplets in the dip of her collar bone, her full tits nearly bursting out of the towel...everything got me hard.
Goddmammit. Get a fucking grip.
I brought my gaze back up to meet hers, and forced myself to see her as the enemy she was.
I’m done giving them my attention.
“You sabotaged my party last week.” I got in her face, but she stood her ground. “And you assaulted my friend. Twice. Are you actually trying to assert some force in this school, Tatum?”
In my head, she was ‘Tate.’ Always. But I couldn’t call her that now. It was a nickname for family and friends, and we were neither.
Her eyes, the perfect blend of fire and ice, sharpened on me. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?”
“On the contrary.” I leaned my shoulder into the lockers to her side. “I’ve moved on to more interesting pastimes than punking you, believe it or not. It’s been a very peaceful year without your smug, I’m-too-good-for-everyone-else fucking face around these halls.”
And that was true. It had been peaceful. Like death kind of peaceful.
“What—are you, big, bad Jared—feeling threatened?”
What the fuck?
Now, that pissed me off.
I bounded off the lockers and caged her in between my arms.
“Don’t touch me,” she blurted out, and I bit back a grin. She wasn’t looking at me again.
I moved my head like a snake, trying to catch her eyes.
Wet strands of her hair stuck to her face, and I inhaled her slowly like she was a piece of meat, and I was starving. “If I ever lay my hands on you,” I threatened in a low voice, “you’ll want it.”
That fucking scent. It was like some kind of flower and kiwis. “Do you?” I taunted. “Want it, I mean?”
She paused, looking a little surprised, a little confused, and then a whole lot pissed. “I’m bored.” Her tone was uncertain but her eyes were resolved. “Are you going to tell me what you want or what?”
“You know? This new attitude you came back with? It surprised me. You used to be a pretty dull target. All you’d do was run away or cry. Now you’ve got some fight in you. I was prepared to leave you alone this year. But now…” I trailed off.
She smirked. “What will you do? Trip me in class? Spill O.J. on my shirt? Spread rumors about me, so I don’t get any dates? Or maybe you’ll up your game to cyberbullying. Do you really think any of it bugs me anymore? You can’t scare me.”
Baby, I’ve already got you.
At least, I thought I did. She was talking some serious shit. Sure, she’d started branching out before she went to France, but I figured it was all a part of leaving the country. She’d felt she was safe. Hell, she had been safe, I guess. Not much I could do from where I was.
But now she was back.
I braced a hand over her head, against the lockers and leaned in. “Do you think you’re strong enough to take me on?” I asked, part of me hoping she’d rise to the challenge and another part of me hoping she’d stay down.
“It’s on.” And that promise floated in the air like the words “You’ve won the lottery.”
Hell, yes.
“Tatum Brandt!”
We both jumped out of our own little world and looked to the end of the row where Coach Syndowski and about half of the cross-country team stared at us.
Oh, shit.
I almost laughed at the sheer luck.
Tate in her towel. Me hovering close. I couldn’t have planned it better, and I was a little ashamed that I didn’t predict this twist.
This wasn’t going to look good on her so-called “They’re not taking my senior year” game plan.
“Coach!” Tate gasped, grappling at her towel, and making it look like we were guilty of something other than talking.
Smooth, Tate.
But my amusement was short lived when I saw girls snapping pictures with their cell phones. My stomach hollowed out immediately.
No, no, no….goddammit.
Tate was mine, to do with what I wanted. And I did not want pictures of her in a towel texted to the whole goddamn school!
“There are other places for you two to do this.” The coach’s voice sounded like she should be wagging her finger and sending us to bed without dinner. “Mr. Trent?” She scolded me with her eyes. “Leave!”
And I buried my anger about the pictures and walked out just as I’d come in. Like I fucking owned the place.