28. Bellamy

TWENTY-EIGHT

bellamy

The noise from the party had died down to a low hum of music. I stared up at the few stars that managed to break through the electric glow of the city, then sucked the taste of her off my fingers.

As much as I'd wanted to, I didn't try to fuck her. And it had absolutely nothing to do with our agreement. As far as I was concerned, that had been null and void since that party at Bennett's. Since I'd realized this was a hell of a lot more than needing a simple fuck. And that sent anxiety rippling through me because she was going to leave in a few months.

I swept the hair away from her neck, and she caught my hand, pulling it close to her face. "Never forget where you're from; someone will remind you," she read the words of my tattoo.

"DMX knows his shit."

I stared at the script inked on my wrist. That was my first tattoo—at sixteen. With Zepp and Hendrix, we all got the same lyrics. Because being from Dayton...no matter where we ended up in life, someone would remind us, if for nothing other than to kick us down.

"And the other one?"

"It's Linkin Park. ‘All I want to do is be more like me and less like you.'" And that one I'd had inked just to remind myself I didn't have to turn out like my dad.

"Great song." Her finger traced over the ink.

"You don't look like the kinda girl who would listen to hard rock."

"No?" She smiled. "What am I supposed to listen to? Taylor Swift?"

"Probably. Or Katy Perry. Maybe Cardi B?" I laughed.

"I got you arrested, Bellamy. If that doesn't scream, In This Moment, then I don't know what does."

It totally did. "You're the black sheep of Barrington, you realize that? Listening to heavy metal. Hanging out with the bad boys from the other side of the tracks."

"I'll tell you a secret." Her fingers drifted along the inside of my arm, a small smile playing over her lips. "Those expensive boarding schools people send their kids to, thinking they'll make them perfect little clones of themselves—they're a breeding ground for daddy issues and rebellion."

"You don't say?"

She swept a hand down her body. "Their finest example. Because I really, really like bad boys."

"No, baby girl." I leaned over her and covered her lips with mine. "You only like this bad boy." My tongue dipped into her mouth, my body shifting on top of hers.

I thought there may be a round two until Nora screamed Drew's name from across the yard.

Drew groaned. "Shit," she mumbled against my lips.

Footsteps crunched over the dry grass, then stopped. "Gross!"

Deepening the kiss, I raised my middle finger in the direction of Nora's voice.

"I can't find Diane." Nora huffed, and Drew shoved me off. "She texted telling me to leave her here. And I have a curfew."

"I'm sure she's fine." Drew sat up, shaking the pine straw from her hair, a concerned expression wrinkling her brow. "Where's Hendrix?"

Nora rubbed at her temples. "I swear, between the two of you…"

"Oh, come on, Nora." I wrapped an arm around Drew. "Get off your high horse. You lost your V-card to Wolf freshman year."

Drew glanced from me to Nora with wide eyes. "Oh my God. You did not, Nora?"

"She did…" Was it my business to spread? No. But it was obvious that Nora wanted Drew to have nothing to do with me. Which made her a hypocrite, and I was an asshole, so...

Nora flipped me off. "I'm taking your car, Drew. Come on."

I grabbed Drew's wrist, then bit her neck. "Stay here."

"I'm not fucking you in some room of Hendrix's brothel house."

"Fine. You can fuck me out here."

"No fucking in the proximity of Hendrix's gross house."

Nora grumbled. "Are you leaving or staying?"

"She's staying," I said, threading my fingers through Drew's hair and slamming my lips over hers.

She nipped at my lip, then pushed me away. Her gaze bounced between Nora and me. "I'll stay and make sure Diane's okay."

Bullshit.

"No, you're staying because of him. But whatever." Nora turned and made her way toward the house. "Just come get your car from my house tomorrow. If this knight in perverted armor can manage to drop you off…" She disappeared onto the porch.

"She's not wrong," I said, slinging my legs over the side of the trampoline and jumping to the ground. "You're staying because of me."

I held out my hand to help Drew down.

She took it with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not fucking you."

"You already said that." I led her onto the back porch and into the kitchen.

"Do I need to find Diane, open a door, and throw condoms at her head?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"If she's with Hendrix, yes!"

A couple of girls were asleep on the couch, someone laid passed out on the steps amongst a pile of beer cans. This was how parties usually ended here. But it was better they were here than on the streets.

We made it to the first landing before we heard the squeak of springs and thud of Hendrix's headboard banging the wall. Moans trickled into the hall, followed by the smack of skin against skin.

"Call me, Big Papa."

"Too late." Drew groaned. "She's getting chlamydia and pregnant."

Placing an arm around her shoulder, I dragged her down the hall. "Believe it or not, Hendrix is safe. He's got a fishbowl of condoms on his nightstand. Germs freak him out."

"The guy who sent me a picture of his shit?"

"Yep."

I opened the door to Zepp's room and flipped the light switch. It felt weird coming in here. Not that he would give a shit. The first time I visited Zepp in prison, he told me I could move in if I wanted to. Keep Hendrix in check, get away from my old man, but I couldn't leave mom and Arlo.

It just made everything feel empty when I couldn't ignore that he was gone.

Drew stopped by the nightstand, glancing at the picture of Monroe and Zepp. "Is that Zepp?"

"Yeah."

"He looks so much like Hendrix."

I glanced at the picture. "He's not as insane as him."

"Who the hell is?"

And that was a good question. Not wanting to go down that depressing-ass road, I pushed the thoughts of Zepp away. I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it at her. "Wanna sleep in that?"

"Can you unzip me?" She gathered her hair to the side.

"You know this is wrong?" I slowly inched the zipper down, exposing the skin of her back while making a point to breathe over her neck.

"What is?" she whispered.

I slid one shoulder off, then the other, and the material fell to a puddle around her high heels. My dick swelled. My balls drew tight. "Making me do this when I can't fuck you." I could. If I really wanted to. I had no doubt I could talk her into it, but I respected her more than that.

"Well, I can't undo my own zipper, can I?" She pressed her naked back to my chest, then turned to face me as she backed away. All curves in nothing but lace underwear and high heels.

I slipped out of my jeans while I stared at her nipples, hard and inviting. It took every damn thing inside me not to grab her by the hips and throw her onto the bed.

"Behave," she said.

I flopped down onto the mattress, thinking about how this girl was going to break my dick. "You've got your tits out, and you're asking me to behave?"

With a smirk, she pulled my shirt over her head, then took off her shoes before hitting the light switch. "Better?"

"No. I liked it better with your tits out."

"Of course you did." She crawled into bed beside me. "Don't sulk."

An awkward silence stretched between us in the darkness. What in the hell was I supposed to do here? Tell her goodnight and roll over?

I swiped a hand down my jaw, then turned on the pillow to look at her. "This is me, not fucking you."

She laughed, and holy shit, she was gorgeous when she smiled like that. "You're doing so good."

I wanted to kiss her. But kissing would make my dick even harder. Then I'd want to touch her. Then I'd need to fuck her.

"Is this a first for you? Having a girl in bed and not screwing her…"

"Having a girl in a bed is a first." Taking a girl to bed said things; it was too personal, and it gave them every opportunity to stay. You get one in the back of a car, a bathroom, a closet—they had no choice but to leave.

"Is this where you confess you're secretly saving yourself for marriage?"

"Yeah—no."

"So, what do you do?" she asked. "Just screw them in a random van? Whose van was that?"

"My neighbor's. And anywhere but a bed."

"We've been on a bed before, so you're full of shit."

"A Barrington prick's bed doesn't count."

"Uh-huh. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

She went to kiss me, and I grabbed her throat. Because if she wanted to torture me, I was going to torture her. "If you really don't want me to fuck you, you can't kiss me in this bed."

A slow smile inched over her face. "Not even one kiss?"

I pressed a quick one to her lips, then adjusted my dick. "Now go to sleep, or I'm fucking you."

On a laugh, she threw her leg over mine, then laid her palm on my chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I stared at the ceiling, realizing I was more than officially screwed.

I was in bed.

With a girl.

And I was okay that I wasn't going to fuck her because I liked her that damn much.