Page 29 of The Golden Boys
Suddenly feeling a loss of appetite and wanting to avoid whatever his evil ass has in mind, I toss what’s left of my food into the trash bin. My hope when I hightail it toward the door right after is that I’ll make it inside before he reaches me. However, just as I snatch the door open, it’s slammed shut and a large hand catches me across my torso.
Hot, lengthy fingers splay across my bare skin when his palm lands just beneath the hem of my cropped t-shirt. I’m spun quickly to face him, then those inked arms cage me between his impressively massive body and the glass. Having flashbacks of being cornered just like this a few days ago, one fist tightens at my side while I’m contemplating smacking him with the tray I have in the other.
“I see you’ve made a friend,” he teases, grinning like the villain he is. “Makes sense the two of you would link up.”
I fight the urge to ask what that means, knowing he won’t explain.
“What do you want, West?”
With my question, the small space that exists between us suddenly disappears.
“Just making sure you enjoyed that little surprise I arranged for you this morning,” he growls against my ear, moving strands of my hair with his breath. “Isure did.”
I’m, legit, quivering as my eyes dart around, wondering why none of the monitors have stepped in. But I suppose, from a distance, it might be difficult to tell what’s going on exactly. West isn’t using much force, and with the sick smile he’s wearing, this could look like something else. Like something startlingly less awful than the truth.
I’m sure Pandora will have a field day, likely labeling it foreplay.
“Get away from me!” My voice isn’t loud, but it’s forceful, leaving no room for him to misunderstand the seriousness of it.
“Get away from you?” he asks incredulously, leaning away as he pops a brow. “But I’m just getting started.”
There’s a promise embedded in those words and they fill my very soul with dread. Because, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I know he means them.
“You’d be wise to watch your back,” he warns in a low, gravelly whisper. “I’ve sicced the dogs on you now, so I’m not the only one you need to look out for. I’ve only brought thegirlsup to speed for now, but they definitely won’t be playing nice.”
The sense of dread deepens with what I imagine that means, and I’m sure he notices. The stare-down between us intensifies and I want to knee him in his balls. Especially when that dark gaze of his unhurriedly slides from my lips, down my neck where I feel my pulse throbbing, to my breasts.
His expression shifts then, but his eyes stay glued to me. Within his gaze, there’s a strange mix of raw lust and hatred and, apparently, it’s contagious.
Because now, I feel it, too.
His heartbreaker-greens flash up to me again and the evidence of his need quickly burns away, like it never existed. It leaves behind only the fury I’m used to seeing there. Maybe even more than usual, and I’m not sure I realized that was possible.
“You should’ve stayed in the gutter you crawled out of,” he growls, “but since you’re here, guess that just means I get to enjoy destroying you,” he promises.
I’m sick of his arrogant ass, his bullshit threats, all of it. So much so, I’m nearly frothing at the mouth with rage, like a rabid dog waiting to attack.
Feeling a bit bolder than usual, I crane my mouth towardhisear this time, making sure he hears me clearly.
“There are lines you donotwant to cross,” I warn. “I’m sure no one’s ever called you on your shit, but I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not here to be lorded over like one of your peasants.”
A quiet laugh escapes his lips when he lowers his head. The sick bastard actuallylikesit, being challenged, talked to like this. I can see it when his dark stare returns to mine and that thick vein in the side of his neck throbs.
“That’s what I like to hear, Southside. Keep it interesting for me,” he croons.
Those are his parting words, as the space between us widens again. The moment I realize he’s leaving, my breaths deepen with relief. I’m still the only thing he’s focused on as he backs away, until he turns and trudges back toward his table with that cocky‘the world is mine’stride that used to be such a turn-on.
Before I saw the real him, anyway.
It takes everything in me to suppress a growl. Initially, I believed this feud between us was all about status, his belief that I don’t belong here at his school. But with the stunt he pulled this morning, and the way he came at me just now, it feels more personal than that.
Deeperthan that.
It’s as though I’ve somehow wounded him without realizing it and he needs me to feel his pain.
All of it.
His obsession with ruiningme runs deeper than I thought, which drives my need to understand why. At least then, I’ll know what I’m up against, giving me a chance of defending myself.