It frustrates me to be this drawn to the guy who continues to make my life a living hell. It tears me up inside, like a pinwheel of knives rolling through my gut.
I may have never considered myself to be strong.
But at least I thought I wasn’t stupid.
Turns out, I’m the biggest fool in Redwood Prep or maybe the biggest fool in the world.
Because as my fingers curl around Dutch’s neck and his hot, demanding mouth plunders mine, I lean into the heat and let it burn me to ash, let it burn out all the thoughts of Miller’s evil proposal from my mind. Until all I can feel is the hard body plastered to mine.
Dutch’s scent fills every desperate breath I take. Mint. Sandalwood. Something unique to him. That fragrance poisons me in the worst way possible. It’s like a virus turning me into a zombie. A zombie that needs him. That would do anything to have him.
I want to taste his skin, lick my way down his neck to test what he’s really made of, but he has my tongue occupied.
Need.
Heat.
Desire.
It’s a rolling piano riff. The lowest octave. The darkest notes.
I hook my fingers around his waist, pulling him closer. Closer.
More.
The taste of him is sweeter than I remember. Or maybe it was always this sweet.
Forbidden fruit tends to be.
And how much sweeter is the fruit that’s not only forbidden but bad for you?
Fabric flutters around my thighs and I’m so distracted by his kiss that I don’t realize he’s pushing my skirt up until his fingers start squeezing and grabbing at me.
A deep jolt of energy floods my body.
It feels like raw electricity. Like getting struck by two bolts of lightning all at once.
His breathing deepens when I moan. I hear it over the loud thudding of my heart. My pulse is a skittering arpeggio, a broken chord. Notes struck one by one instead of all together.
And although there’s some part of my brain that says I should let him go, try to catch my breath or at least get the upper hand, there is no time to listen. Dutch doesn’t give me a chance.
His mouth presses hard against mine, taking over and demanding everything I have. His touch is so close to where it needs to be. My breath catches then surges out as I shift my hips to give him access.
He traces a line down the inside of my thigh, teasing me. Torturing me.
I drag my teeth across his bottom lip, nipping him in desperation. A quiet plea for him to…
I don’t even know what.
Free me from this hopeless existence?
Make me feel something other than discardable and worthless?
“Dutch…” My voice is rough and broken. Just as he is. Isn’t that what inexplicably lures us to each other. Isn’t that why we can’t stop revolving around each other even if it hurts?
He’s just as broken as I am. Maybe more so. He has more things, more fame, more money—but he’s miserable.
Pathetic.
We’re both so pathetic.
Even if he knows how to hide it better.
Dutch smirks as he moves his lips to my neck. He’s so damn sure of his appeal, so arrogant. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. How defenseless I am. How tight my body is clenching in anticipation of more.
But he doesn’t give me more.
His hand slides back to my waist and the other cups my chin. He holds me there, keeps my head in place and kisses me tenderly. Like I actually mean something to him. Like we’re not just two clashing cymbals moving frantically off script.
My heart flutters and I hate it.
I hate it to death.
The kiss is a step over the line. An ending of something precious. A tearing apart of the old rules. It feels… final. Monumental. Like the kiss between the princess and the prince at the end of a movie.
Except this is not the happily-ever-after princess crap that Vi still watches when she needs a pick-me-up. No, this is the kiss between the villains. Two natural disasters meeting in a cataclysmic force of destruction.
Dutch’s hands slide under my shirt, his hot, heavy palms gathering me closer to his body. He’s kissing me deeply. Moments turning into eternity.
Heat sizzles between our moving lips as I arch my back and press into him.
I can feel him through the dark navy pants he has on and there’s no denying what he wants from me.
So why isn’t he…
I’m not going to take it. You’re going to give it to me.
His words echo through my head and rip me out of the moment. I pull back, but Dutch has a hold on me. His grip doesn’t loosen from my waist. His amber eyes, dark with lust and victory, bore into me.
He leans forward, his lips brushing mine when he says, “Told you.”
My heart is pounding, but I don’t hit him the way he deserves. Mainly because my limbs are putty and I don’t think I could make the swing.
His skilled fingers slide up to my bottom lip and swipe. “You want me, Brahms.”
I blink rapidly, struggling to return to my senses.
He’s still touching me. One of his thumbs is rubbing circles right under my bra. Making it hard to think straight or to move. Making it impossible to catch my breath.
I answer on reflex. “I despise you. What part of that isn’t clear?”
A brief smile breaks out on his face. He lets loose a chuckle that promises I’ll hate every word that comes out of his mouth next. “That kiss said something different.”
Damn. I can’t deny that I kissed him back. There’s no running from the facts.
I harden my expression and look up at him. “I’m curious, Dutch. Who were you kissing just now? Was it me or was it your precious ‘Redhead’?”
Maybe if I remind him of my duplicity, he’ll weaken. Maybe it’ll give me the upper hand.
But Dutch doesn’t even blink.
“Can’t it be both?” he whispers in my ear.
His tone makes me shiver.
“I want you both and, since you’re the same person, it works out for me.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re as drawn to me as I am to you, Brahms. Neither of us want it. Neither of us can control it. So how about we stop trying?” His words curl around me, as tangible as a caress. Exquisite torture. He touches a tendril of my hair. “Once.” It’s like he’s talking to himself. Trying to convince himself. “I’ll take you once and get you out of my system.”
Get me out of his system? “Like what? Like I’m a cold?”
He shrugs.
So frigid.
So calloused.
A Cross Brother to the bone.
Dutch releases me suddenly. And I realize this was never about anything more than him exerting control. Showing me another lesson. Showing me that I belong to him.
“I really am a toy to you, aren’t I?” My skin bristles with heat.
He doesn’t deny it. His amber eyes are steady on me, more cruel and detached than I’ve ever seen them.
He’s the boy with the world at his fingertips. And I’m the toy he couldn’t have. The toy he’s now obsessed with owning.
Why did I think for a second that he’s someone worthy of my understanding?
I whirl around, a hand on my forehead. I’m such an idiot.
“You can’t control me the way you control everything else.” My nostrils flare. “I will never give you want you want.”
“You’re wrong, Brahms,” he says simply. “You belong to me.”
I whirl around, my eyes aflame. “You’re seriously screwed in the head.”
“We both are. Why do you think we keep crashing into each other? It will never end unless we give in.”
My eyes flutter closed.
This conversation is pissing me off all over again.
Mostly because he’s right.
I swore up and down that I wouldn’t be caught in this position, lips fused to Dutch Cross’s while he stole the air from my lungs.
Yet I’m here again.
Caught in his trap again.
Throbbing for him. Again.
And it’s not like I don’t know better. I do. I just keep doing the things I know I shouldn’t.
Dutch looms over me, pressing into me so I have nowhere to run. “Do you think I have this much patience with the people who cross me, Brahms?” His voice drops to a dark rasp. “You played me.”
“And you ruined my life before and after you found out who I was.”
“Guess that makes us even.” He slides a finger down my cheek.
I glare at him. “Do you even like me, Dutch?”
He laughs. The bastard actually laughs in my face. “Do you like me, Brahms?”
My eyes skitter away.
He rubs his nose over the exposed slope of my throat, breathing me in and exhaling only two words, “Stop running.”
Prey.
“Stop fighting, Brahms.”
Hunted.
“All I can think about is your body wrapped around mine,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue against my throbbing pulse.
Lifting my head, I meet the eyes of the hunter, as unique as burnished honey, clothed in the shadows of an endless night.
Something vibrates close by.
It’s Dutch’s phone.
He releases me, takes it out and checks the screen. His brows wrinkle. He looks at the message with an unfeeling, aloof expression, making his earlier passion seem like a trick of the light.
Curiously, I crane my neck to see the phone and notice that the sender is his dad. Dutch catches me spying and tilts the screen away.
“Where’s your next class?” he asks, pocketing his phone for good measure. “I’ll walk you.”
I scowl. “I’ll find it myself.”
In typical Dutch fashion, he does whatever the hell he wants.
The hallway is crawling with students, but they all seem smaller than Dutch. His presence overshadows the whole room. It’s instant, the way he commands every space he walks into.
The air is different today. Usually, when Dutch and I are heading in the same direction, it’s because I’m thrown over his shoulder like a potato sack, my skirt flaring up and exposing everything.
But today, people scurry out of my way the same as they do with Dutch. They stare at me with curious eyes, angry eyes, jealous eyes. It’s like there’s some kind of invisible shield around me. Dutch’s shield.
And while they simultaneously hate me for being in that bubble, they’ll respect me because of him.
It’s creepy as hell.
I preferred it when I was the invisible girl at Redwood Prep.
Dutch takes me to class and I have no idea how he knew I was in Lit third period. I sure didn’t tell him.
He touches my cheek. “Don’t worry about Miller. I’ll handle him.”
“How?”
“All you need to know,” his eyes land heavily on me, “is that he won’t touch you.” His knuckles brush under my chin and lift my head. In a hard voice, he warns, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
I wrench my chin away. “You’re such a piece of crap.”
Dutch chuckles and takes a step back, still staring at me. I feel this strange, tingling sensation slide through my veins. Like I’m free-falling and the ground is still far enough away that it feels like I’m flying.
But I’m not dumb enough to think I can jump off a cliff without meeting the consequences of gravity. How much of me will break when I finally smack the ground?
Jinx: Redwood Prep’s Hunger Games
Just in! My sources tell me three students are on the chopping block after one heated meeting with the powers that be. In the lineup? Our beloved Solar System himself.
What will the Crown Prince do to save his friend? Or will he leave his romantic rival to rot while he trots away with his precious Cinderella?
Given Prince Charming’s tongue was caught several inches down Cinderella’s throat, I think I have an idea who’s in his top pick.
Until then…
Keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer,
Jinx
