42. Bellamy

FORTY-TWO

bellamy

The concept of not pulling your weight was foreign in Dayton.

Growing up, we had little choice not to pitch in by either working or stealing. So the fact that Drew, at the age of eighteen, had nothing that was really hers blew my mind.

I bought my clothes. I paid for my car. My gas. My phone. And I paid my fair share of bills…

I laid in bed, more aware now than ever of just how different life for all those Barrington pricks was. They were handed everything, and it seemed that was lorded over their heads, used to control and manipulate. Setting them up to be the manipulative little shits they'd undoubtedly turn into because they had been raised to believe that money was power over everyone around you.

It had been a week since she'd shown up at my house, and thoughts of her occupied most of my waking hours.

Me: Is he ever going to leave?

Two days ago, her dad was supposed to leave for business. And hadn't. I didn't realize how much I needed her until she was gone.

Work Phone: He needs to. I can't take much more.

I missed her, but I couldn't tell her that, so instead, I went with:

Me: My balls are about to rupture.

Work Phone: You know your right hand didn't fall off, right?

Me: No shit. It's the only reason I'm not dead yet.

Work Phone: Do you think of me?

Of course, I do. Who else would I think of? I was hard up for the girl. She had to know that.

Me: I go to the picture on your InstaPic page of you on some yacht in a barely there bikini and blow my load to that.

Me: Since you never returned my favor and sent me dirty pictures

Me: Selfish-ass

Work Phone: Well, I'd send you something to get through this difficult time, but your "business" phone doesn't have a camera…

Work Phone: You could always sneak through my bedroom window and take one yourself.

Like hell I'd waste time taking a picture. I'd be buried balls deep inside of her within two minutes flat .

Me: I'd take more than a picture…

Work Phone: I know you would.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked at the country club and cut across the golf course that backed up to Drew's street. Then I climbed the wrought-iron fence surrounding her back yard.

From there, I could see the silhouette of her dad's flashy car in the drive. I had no doubt the asshole actually filed for a stay-away order, and I had no doubt he'd call the police if he caught me on his property. So I just couldn't let him catch me.

Because this—this was bullshit.

I dropped to the ground and went straight to the side of the house, grabbed hold of the latticework, and scaled it, climbing over the balcony like some asshole out of Shakespeare.

Jesus, what had my life become?

Through the French doors that led into her room, I could see Drew sprawled horizontally across her bed. Her head hung off the side, and her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

I tapped on the glass, and she jumped. The moment her gaze swung to the window, she scrambled off the bed and opened the balcony door just enough to squeeze out.

"Oh my God. I was joking about sneaking in my window!" she whispered. "He'll get you arrested."

Grabbing her face, I slammed my lips to hers. The taste of her bled through my veins, relaxing my coiled muscles like a much-needed hit. When I pulled away, her fingers fisted in my shirt, and I pressed my forehead to hers. "I don't give a shit what he does."

She glanced back into her room, then over the railing. "Come on." Then she led me through her bedroom, straight into her bathroom, where she locked the door and promptly cut on the shower.

"You'd risk getting arrested for a fuck?"

Not a fuck, but for her? Yes. "I'm not getting arrested," I said.

Steam slowly billowed over the glass shower door as I slipped one strap of her tank top off her shoulder. Followed by the other.

Then I pressed my lips to her throat.

"Bellamy…"

"Drew…" My hands cupped her bare tits as I covered her mouth with mine. "Don't want to waste water, do you?"

I shoved off her shorts, then her thong.

"We cannot fuck with my dad here," she whispered, not doing a damn thing to resist me.

My fingers found their way inside her, immediately coaxing a moan.

It was absolutely messed up that I was doing this to her. In her house. With him downstairs. But screw him for being a dick.

I pushed my fingers in deeper. Then I stopped. "This sure as hell feels like we can..."

"You're an asshole," she said, gripping my wrist and forcing my hand to move again.

"That I am."

She yanked at my belt, and within seconds, she had me undressed, and I had her naked body pinned against the tile wall of her shower, head tossed back on a moan while I buried myself deep inside her.

I wanted her more than I'd wanted anything in my life.

I kissed along the column of her neck, licking at the water cascading down her body, and all I could think about was how I could hold on to this—hold on to her a little bit longer. "Don't make me go days without this again." I moved inside her.

Her breath hitched, thighs clamping around my hips.

I went at her harder until her nails embedded in my back, and I had my hand over her mouth to silence her moans.

She tightened around me, and I dropped my chin to my chest, biting back a groan as I came.

The idea neither of us had to go without this cycled through my head. There were only three weeks until graduation. And then what…

We were on borrowed time, but that was what I'd been living on for the past few years of my life; stealing cars and dealing drugs to pay bills—there was a definite risk there. And there was a massive risk here. Each day I spent with Drew, each kiss, each fuck, would make losing her harder, but I didn't care.

She was a high, a thrill, something I needed even if I knew it would be to my own damn detriment. I was a risk-taker, and I was pretty damn sure Drew Morgan would always be my greatest risk.

She cut the shower off, then we dried each other off.

Naked, no makeup, her hair a damp, tangled mess—God, she was gorgeous. Perfect. Mine.

Mine for how much longer...

"How long were you planning to stay after graduation?" I asked, running the towel over her hair to dry it.

"I don't know. I usually go to stay with my Mom in the summer because I hate my dad. I was thinking I'd stick around this year."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Because of me.

I handed her the towel, and she wrapped it around her body. Three weeks until graduation. Then eight weeks until she'd be leaving for college.

"So why are you going to stay here? " I grabbed my jeans from the floor and pulled them up. "If we can't even see each other?"

Inhaling a hard breath, she nodded. "Is this the part where we break up?"

"No. This is the part where you leave." I'd spent the last seven days away from her, and I didn't want to do that again. It was rash—absolutely—but wasn't that how Drew and I worked? On a series of rash decisions. I started into her room, heading straight for her closet.

"What?"

I grabbed one of her suitcases and started filling it with clothes.

She stepped inside the closet, gripping the towel around her chest. "And go where?"

"To my house. He doesn't want you to see me? Fuck him."

"Bellamy…" She let out a sigh. "Pretty sure your mom is not going to be okay with that."

"What if she was?" I threw a stack of jeans into her suitcase. I knew my mom, and she wouldn't care.

"If she's not. I'll get my own place. I don't give a shit. You're not staying in this house like some trapped princess locked in a tower. And if you do, I'm going to jail..."

"I…" Her eyes closed, and a moment of self-doubt crept in. Maybe she didn't feel the same way I did. "It's not as simple as that, and you know it," she said.

"No, I don't know it." I tossed more clothes in. "Because I wouldn't let someone control me like this." Another shirt landed in the suitcase.

"You have your own money, Bellamy. I'm just...some spoiled brat."

She wasn't. She was so much more than that. "Then stop being a spoiled brat, Drew."

"How?" She stared at me like I'd lost my mind, her gaze shifting from me to the suitcase I kept filling. "By moving in with you? You have to know how crazy that sounds."

"Yeah? And you're fucking crazy, so…" I zipped the suitcase and glared at her.

I sounded crazy, and I knew it, but that's what Drew did to me. Made me lunatic crazy. "And you've made me a complete psycho," I said.

A small smile touched her lips. "Believe me when I say, I'd love nothing more than to walk out of here and flip my dad off on the way out the door. But I have nothing to offer you, Bellamy."

"Oh, you've got plenty to offer me, baby girl…" I stepped toward her, grabbing her waist. "I'd have you at my beck and call." I smirked.

"You're a dick."

Everything about why I was doing this was selfish. Every damn thing. Because I wanted as much of her as I could have before she left. I wanted every damn second I could steal with her. So I pushed where I knew she'd give.

"Where's the rebel at? The girl who had me arrested and let Hendrix set her car on fire just to try to get expelled?" I yanked her close, brushing my lips to hers. "You aren't a spoiled brat; you're a fucking nightmare. And no one locks the evil queen in the tower…"

"This is why my dad doesn't like you. You make me want to do insane things. You make me want to set fire to everything shiny and watch it burn."

"Nah. I just give you the match."

"You're absolutely insane..." Her gaze lingered on mine for a moment before she let out a breath. "Screw it." She kissed me before resting her forehead against mine. "Move in with my criminal boyfriend? Why not?"

"That's the spirit."

"But we have to plan this out..."

And the next morning, I sat at the Jet Pep across from the entrance to Barrington Heights, waiting until her dad's Maserati zoomed past to go to her house and grab her shit.