Make My Move (Hannaford Prep, #5)

by J. Bree

When we both arrive at the library, there's a freshman already sitting with her, making eyes at her like she hung the fucking moon, and I immediately decide he has to die.

I immediately forget his name because that is useless information and the only thing I want from the idiot is his blood on my knuckles and his ass never to perch on this seat with the Mounty again.

He comes back to our room from the fight club each night pissed that Lance won’t show his face there, and there’s nothing on this Earth that Ash hates more than a coward.

I head down to the party by myself, dodging the invitations and hands of the girls heading that way as well because that’s not what I’m here for tonight. The thought of fucking one of these girls just doesn’t sound appealing right now.

Thank God my words are all fucked up because no matter how hard I try to tell her that I want her, that I’m sorry for being such a dick to her, and that really I’m the one desperately hoping she picks me, they never come out right.

And no matter how hard I fucking try, I can’t stop thinking about her and I’ll hold onto this hate I have for her with everything I have because if I let it go? What do I have then? Nothing but the fact that she might just love my sister like I do.

I grab the Mounty’s hand and tug her back over to my side. There’s no way I’m having her doubt me, not over this bitch. Not over anything, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life as I am about her. Whatever it takes, she’s going to be mine.

I don’t need to know all of the details to know that she’s fucking it for me. She’s everything I want and now I have her, I’m not going to fuck this shit up.

She kisses me like she’s with me in this worship and, fuck, I’m done for. This is it. This is the only girl I’m ever going to fucking want.

The sincerity in her voice is too much. It’s too much for me because I hate her, I’ve done everything I can to prove that to her, and here she is opening up to me with nothing but insightful kindness and I feel the overwhelming urge to prove her wrong. To break her because nothing ever lasts and I’d rather be the one ruining things than having my world turned upside down for some Mounty girl from the slums with eyes that haunt my dreams. She’s the ache in my chest that I can’t cure, no matter how hard I try.

“What are the trials for?” she says as she openly fucking drips over Harley in a speedo. The ache in my chest gets worse.

When she stands up to clear our plates, my gaze catches on her bare legs because I can’t fucking help how badly I want to be between them, have them wrapped around my head as I eat her out every fucking day for the rest of my life.

I want her more than I've wanted anything else in my life. That in itself should be terrifying. It's not.

I kiss her like I've never kissed a girl before. I kiss her like she's the only fucking drug I'll ever need pumping through my veins, like I don't fucking care that she's going to be my downfall and that doing this is the end of everything I love and covet in my life. I kiss her like it doesn't matter that I'm betraying two of the most important and vital people in my life. I kiss her like I love her. She kisses me back like maybe she feels every last bit of that too.

This isn’t just an attraction thing, this is deeper and has taken root in me in ways that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to claw out.