Binding 13 (Boys of Tommen, #1)

by Chloe Walsh

“That’s because I’m a ninety-year-old woman disguised as a teenager,” I quipped. “That’s”—Johnny scrunched his nose up—“A disturbing concept.”

“What happened?” he demanded, glaring down at me. “Who the fuck made you cry?” “What?” I breathed, shaking my head. “I’m not crying.” “Your eyes are red and swollen,” he deadpanned. “You’ve been crying.” His eyes moved to my cheek. “The fuck happened to your face?”

“Give me a name,” Johnny growled, dropping his hands to his hips. “And I’ll take care of it.” “What—no! I’m grand,” I quickly replied. “I have allergies.” “Me too. To assholes and bullshit,” Johnny snarled. “Now, tell me who made you cry and I’ll fix it.”

“Now,” I sneered, glaring down at their faces. “Who wants to call my girlfriend a whore to my face?” I threw in the word girlfriend for maximum effect to align with the maximum damage I was about to cause.

“You sure as shit did something to her,” I snarled. “And when you fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

“Johnny’s jersey number is thirteen,” Claire explained, looking thoroughly disgusted. “And binding is a rugby reference for engaging in a scrum—although I’m pretty sure those girls meant engaging with Johnny in a whole different position.”

Releasing an unsteady breath, I reached up, grabbed Johnny’s neck, and pulled his face down to mine. And then I kissed him.

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Of course, I like you.” He tugged on his hair and sighed. “I think it’s pretty fucking clear that I’m mad about you.”

“Shannon?” Johnny called after me. Pausing at the door, I swung back to look at him. “Yeah?” His blue eyes burned holes inside of me when he said, “Thanks.” “For what?” I whispered. Johnny smiled. “For being nothing like the rest of them.”

“Hi, Johnny.” “Boom, boom, fucking boom, Da,” I groaned, slapping a hand against my chest. “I’m done for.”

“Tell me.” Inhaling a steadying breath, I whispered, “Johnny, I love you.” “Thank fuck,” he groaned, exhaling loudly.