Page 15 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
We were headed to English class, so he fell into step with me. Even without looking, I knew he was next to me by the way the sea parted to let him through.
“What’s wrong, Bellamy? Scared?”
I snorted. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m just not interested? I know. Shocker, right?” I held my hand over my mouth and widened my eyes in mock horror. “A female who can actually resist your…questionablecharms.”
His grin was slow and lazy, and my hand itched to smack it off his face. Why did he make me feel so violent?
I wrapped my hand around my backpack strap and clenched it so tightly my knuckles turned white.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
“Sorry to burst your super inflated ego, but no, not the slightest.”
“You think I didn’t see you, Evie?” My back hit the wall, and he caged me in with his arms, then leaned down, his mouth near the shell of my ear, his voice low and raspy. “I saw you watching me.” An involuntary shiver raced up my spine. He smelled like cedarwood and cypress, and peppermint gum. He felt like a dream.
Hard chest. Broad shoulders. Hands big enough to palm a ball. I could feel the heat emanating from his golden skin.
Ridge was beautiful with the body of a Greek god and the face of a fallen angel.
Too bad he was so…Ridge. Every time he opened his mouth, he ruined it.
“I saw the way you had to squeeze your thighs together. I saw your chest heaving—”
I shoved his chest with both hands to shut him up. He staggered back in a comical display, his hand going to his heart as if I’d wounded him.
I couldn’t be anywhere near him without wanting to… ugh. Punch him. Or kick him in the balls.
Orkisshim.
No. I didn’t want that. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
“You think that was me getting hot for you?” I laughed like that was ridiculous as we skirted a group of freshman girls ogling him like he was a hot fudge sundae with a brownie on top.
Wipe the drool off your chins, girls. No guy, no matter how gorgeous he might be, is worth losing your self-respect over.
“I was trying not to gag on my own vomit,” I told the charmer.
“So that’s why you stayed to watch?” He smirked. “Lie to yourself all you want, Bellamy, but I know the truth. You want me just as much as I want you.”
He didn’t want me. Players loved to play, and this was just a game to him. “Go find another toy to play with, McCallister.”
“You can’t even admit it to yourself, can you?” he said as I brushed past him to the classroom door. “Because You. Are. A. Coward.”
Flipping him my middle finger, I walked into class and threw myself into my seat. My traitorous heart was thrashing against my rib cage, and I was panting like I’d just run the 50-yard dash. Why did he always get me so riled up?
Get a grip, Evie.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my notebook and pen from my backpack and smacked them on the desk. The girl in front of me—Hannah—jumped in her seat and shot me a look over her shoulder.
I couldn’t believe he’d mentioned that incident in the weight room.
But then again, why was I surprised? This was Ridge, after all. He didn’t care if the whole school saw him getting a blow job. But unfortunately, it was just little ole me. Wrong place, wrong time.
And I hadn’t been turned on. I mean, not really. Dammit.
I crossed my legs and stabbed my notebook with a purple pen. Even after I’d gouged a hole in it, I kept going. Stab. Stab. Stab. The pen snapped in two. The ink bled through the lined pages and coated my fingers.
Who gets blow jobs in the school weight room? Ridge does, that’s who.
