Bully (Fall Away, #1)

by Penelope Douglas

respect your elders, take care of your body, finish what you start, and solve your own problems.

Jared moved his head from side to side trying to catch my eyes, his lips inches from my face. “If I ever lay my hands on you,” he said low and husky, “you’ll want it.” He brought his lips in even closer. The heat of his breath covered my face. “Do you? Want it, I mean?”

I let the bottle go and slapped him across the face. His head twisted to the side with the impact, and my hand stung. I’d never hit Jared. Not even when we were kids and playing around. Stunned and furious, Jared dropped the bottle to the floor, forgotten, and turned his vicious eyes

on me. I gasped when he hoisted me off of my feet by my waist and slammed me down on the hard edge of the sink. Before I knew it, he had locked my wrists in a hold behind my back and positioned his body between my legs. He pulled me to him, roughly, and I was trapped. My chest rose and fell quickly, desperate for air. Oh, God. “Let me go!” I screamed. My body was constricted between his arms in back of me and his torso in front. His grip was tight, enough to keep me still but not enough to hurt. I tried to twist and wiggle my way free, but he only jerked me harder against him and tightened his hold. “Jared, let me go.” I tried to make my voice sound forceful, but with the struggle, my strength had dwindled. His eyes met mine, our faces less than an inch away from each other. Several moments passed as he held me, trying to stare me down. But it didn’t work. Once my gaze met his, it was impossible to look away. His eyes were like the cover of a book—giving you hints but not the whole story. And I wanted to

know the story. If I searched his eyes long and hard enough, maybe what I craved would seep out. Damn it! Even with the liquor on his breath, he smelled incredible. Like some kind of bodywash. My thighs were cold where his wet pants rubbed, but the rest of me was on fire. Heat spilled from the pores on my neck, and a drop of sweat glided between my breasts where my chest touched his. Dizziness fogged my head with the pressure he was putting between my legs. Our breathing matched up, and his expression was no longer angry. He spoke shakily, almost sadly. “You fucked me up today.” I assumed he was talking about the monologue. “Good,” I bit out. He jerked me again. “You wanted to hurt me? Did you get off on it? It felt good, didn’t it?” Was he talking about me or hi...

my legs, I squeezed my eyes shut, too afraid of why I wasn’t struggling anymore. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and stared boldly at him, my pulse throbbing in my ears. He’s nothing to me. Nothing. “No, I didn’t get off on it,” I answered calmly. “I feel nothing. You are nothing to me.” He flinched. “Don’t say that.” The heat from his mouth wafted around me as I leaned in. “Nothing,”...

His lips devoured me, hard and fast, like I was being eaten alive. His tongue dived into my mouth, and I let it, needing to feel all of him. The pulsing sensation in my core quickened, and I wrapped my legs around his waist before I closed my eyes, savoring the release. I tried to think, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. All the years that we’d been apart filled this o...

my ass. Pulling my hips harder against his, he assaulted my mouth like he was starving. He sucked on my bottom lip and then turned his attention to my jaw and neck in hot, frenzied kisses. A legion of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I moaned with the pleasure. And I kissed him back. Oh, my God! I was kissin...

I was lost. I tightened my legs around his waist and grasped his wet hair, holding him to me, while he sucked on my neck. His left hand ran down my thigh, and I brought his lips back up to mine again, needing more. Pressure was building as he pressed ou...

We can be confused about what is good for us but not about what we truly want.

“You were never clingy or a nuisance, Tate. The day you moved in next door I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I fucking loved you.” The last was barely a whisper as his eyes dropped to the ground. “Your dad was unloading the moving truck, and I looked out my living room window to see what the noise was. There you were, riding your bike in the street. You were wearing overalls with a red baseball cap. Your hair was spilling down your back.” Jared didn’t meet my eyes with his confession.

“When you recited your monologue this week, I. . . ..” he drifted off with a sigh. “I knew then that I’d really gotten to you, and instead of feeling any satisfaction, I was angry with myself. I wanted to hate you all these years, I wanted to hate someone. But I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t really realize that until the monologue.”