Page 68 of Corrupt Me

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Early the next morning, a ruckus breaks out. Abigail has packed and unpacked a hundred times already. Celine is convinced it will be cold but wants to pack some summer pieces just in case.

Mia is busy baking snacks for the trip. Blake has carried their luggage downstairs and is now eating one muffin after another, but my sister just smiles lovingly at him.

“Save some for the rest of us, will you?” I grumble.

I might have hit a new gloom record. Seeing Bailey descending the stairs with one small piece of luggage and her laptop bag maddens me.

“Leave it behind. We’re going on a damn vacation,” I snap.

She stares me down. How I’ve missed that fire. She pushes the laptop into my chest, her hand trailing down my back, skirting along the waistline of my jeans.

She gasps, her voice dripping with mock indignation. “Oh my, is that a gun?” Narrowing her eyes, her tone turns sharp. “Stop being a hypocrite.”

Her touch feels so good, and it makes me forget why we’re in this situation.

“You have your weapon, and I have mine.”

With that, she brushes past me. My hand shoots forward to grab her, knowing I shouldn’t. It hovers there, suspended, like my impossible wish. I glare at it, then force my arm back to my side.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice tight.

“So damn civil. I half expect an alien to pop out of your head.” She snickers, and I stifle my laughter.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I want to pull her to me and kiss her—until we’re both gasping for air. Until all I feel and see and hear is her.

My life is better with her in it. Scratch that. Everything is better when she’s even in my vicinity.

But now I’m greedy. I want more. So much more.

“Hunter,” she calls my name softly, but the effect is unmistakable. It’s like she reaches inside me, tugging at my heartstrings. “Why?”

“It’s better like this.”

“For whom?”

She slips outside, and I notice the black Mercedes Sprinter van parked out front. While I load our luggage—mine and Bailey’s—into the back, she hops in and immediately gets on her phone.

I call for the guys to let them know the van is ready, then climb inside. The van is fitted with two bench seats running along either side of the van. I sit directly in front of Bailey, and Mia slides in next to me.

It doesn’t take me long to realize what this arrangement means: one couple has to sit across from each other.

Celine moves in next to Bailey, and Kaden, without hesitation, takes the seat beside his wife. Blake follows suit, claiming the spot next to Mia. That leaves Abigail and Dane on opposite sides of the van.

Dane shoots me a “come on, man” look. With a resigned sigh, I squeeze in between Bailey and Celine while Abigail and Dane slide in together at the opposite end.

Whipped. Every single one of these idiots. I pity them.

Bailey and I sit side-by-side, the tension between us palpable. Her body is strung so tight, you wouldn’t think I know how she feels from the inside out.

“Stop being so damn stiff,” I whisper-snarl.

“You’re the one so tense you might pull a muscle.”

“That’s not true,” I grumble, and she pinches the side of my thigh, proving her point.

“I rest my case.”

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