The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy, #1)

by Callie Rose

Rich people be crazy, am I right?

I’m not here to ogle the rich kids. I’m just here to work.

guess if the uniform is good for anything, it’s reminding me that being a housekeeper, working for these filthy rich people, is just what I do. It’s not who I am.

Of course the hot asshole would have three hot friends. They always seem to move in packs.

Don’t ask me what it is about getting beaten at poker by a woman, but for some reason, it tends to make men horny. Maybe it’s just a last ditch effort to prove their masculinity, who knows.

I never get to finish that sentence, because in two strides, Lincoln closes the distance between us and kisses me. Hard. This kiss isn’t the end of our fight, it’s a continuation of it, and his lips press against mine with bruising intensity, like he’s trying to shut me up and prove something to me at the same time.

It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s not even a hot kiss. It’s more like a natural disaster, a tornado tearing through the landscape, destroying everything in its path and leaving the world as it once existed in ruins. It’s fire. It’s pain.

For the second time, his lips cut off my words, and I was wrong before. That kiss downstairs? That was fucking gentle. This is the kind of kiss that steals souls.

I just fucked my boss’s son, the boy who’s made my life hell in more ways than one for weeks, in the hallway of the house where I work. A house I’m not even totally sure is empty. I’m naked from the waist down, my panties and shirt are in tatters, and I can feel his cum oozing from the place where we’re still connected.

One of his arms still holds me securely to his body, but the other reaches up to brush my hair back before sweeping down the side of my face. His knuckles trail over my jawline, and the look on his face makes my heart beat painfully hard. His expression is tender and fierce at the same time, and that’s just what it feels like when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me. Tender and fierce.

It’s as different from kissing Lincoln as night and day, as a thunderstorm and soft summer rain. His lips are exploratory and gentle, and he kisses me like he’s drinking me in, trying to infuse himself

River’s kiss, deep and consuming as it is, also seems to be sending a message to Linc that the tall, dark-haired boy doesn’t own me. That

“I never fucking told you. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself. But the truth is, Low, I never hated you. I wanted you from the very first second I saw you.”

“I wasn’t done. I’m still hungry,” he growls, then dips his head to kiss me. I taste myself in his mouth, and it’s dirty and debauched and so fucking hot.