Page 89 of Web of Lies
“It’s okay,” I mutter, clicking again. Maybe I missed something? There must be more hidden clues within the images—somewhere. What the hell am I missing? Everything, my mind chides.
“At the beginning of the year, someone broke into my room.” I slump in my chair, pouting.
Zepp is going to lose his mind in five, four, three, two, one—
“They did what now?” The growl that vibrates from deep in his chest makes my pussy clench. Yeah, it’s that good. But shit—I’m in trouble.
He cups my cheeks, turning my face towards his. Angry, violent waves of rage roll off him, contorting his usual peaceful expression into a scarier version of himself. Put a red light under his chin, and he’d become the devil—my devil. My dangerous, pissed-off devil. I wonder if he spanks? Hmm—that might be nice.I’ve been a bad, bad girl, Zeppy!No, wait—calm down, girl, get back in your cave.
Others might cower in fear, but I know him now. And it’s kind of, dare I say, sexy. Yeah, yeah, sexy. He’s like—dominant, and he must be. What would he be like in the sack? Probably—shit! Don’t go down this rabbit hole again. For fuck’s sake, Kaycee, focus.
I purse my lips, sighing. “Someone broke into my room, so I set my computer up to detect motions afterward. And obviously, it worked.”
Zepp takes a seat beside me, intertwining our fingers together, sending butterflies soaring in my turning tummy. Dear Lord, what is happening to me? They’re like making me fall for them—hard. If he keeps up with the sweet handholding and dominating ways, I might give myself to him. Okay, them. They’d be my sexy little harem, right? Ahh—a delusional girl can dream.
“This, okay?” he whispers, glancing at me with a heated gaze.
I squeeze his hand, nodding. My chest tightens at the respect each one of these guys shows me. They truly understand me and get that I need to touch someone on my own time. And they don’t take unless they ask.
“Cool,” he exhales with relief. “So before, did they take anything?”
My mind debates with itself, going back and forth between telling him and zipping my lips. I decide on the latter because he’s already pissed himself about someone breaking into my room. How can I tell him they put a camera in there too? Simple, I won’t. For now, at least. I’ll fess up to that at a different time when so much hasn’t happened in a day.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I avert my eyes toward the screen, pretending Carter’s mean scowl is as enjoyable as a pumpkin cupcake.
Zepp scrolls through the pictures with a frown taking over his handsome face, his eyes scrutinizing the misdeeds of his classmates. Until his shoulders slump and his hand works its way through the longer strands of his hair.
“What do we do with this?” Zepp gestures towards the screen with his free hand.
Good question. What do I do with this information? I could turn it all in and let the school deal with this. But if I try, I can imagine the look on Mr. Shaw’s disapproving face. In my experience, they won’t do shit, just like when some assholes painted my door, leaving evidence behind on video. They did nothing. And it was all my fault.
I shrug in response. His fingers squeeze against mine. “We could turn it into Headmaster Shaw. He might—”
“They marked my door at the beginning of the year, left video evidence, and he still gave me a fine. I can guarantee they won’t help one bit.” I shake my head at the situation.
Adults are the ones we are supposed to turn to when life gets rough. We shouldn’t fear that they won’t help us. They should advocate for us. Fight for us. Not leave us to rot at the hands of an invisible enemy. But here I am, going head-to-head with the enemy.
“You think he’s one of them?” Zepp asks.
I can tell the wheels in his brain are turning at the thought. “Either that or someone is pulling his strings.” I frown when an email pings on my phone. It’s early Saturday morning by now.
The sun makes its way into the sky, painting the clouds pink, sending beams of light through the house’s windows, lifting the darkening shadows of the night around us.
I blink a few times at the email sitting in my inbox. The last time I got a greeting like this, I left Headmaster Shaw’s office furious. “They want me to come to the office on Tuesday for a meeting about my room.”
“What?” Zepp asks in disbelief. “Did they mention working on it or?” I scan the email.
“Yeah, they did the cleanup, replaced their property, but that’s it.” I huff, knowing exactly where this meeting is going to end up. On a dead-end road, with no way out, and all the blame on me. We talk it over until Seger stirs and comes up with a plan of action for Tuesday.
The weekend flies by in a flash. I spend most of it with Zepp and Seger, falling into a good routine with them. They continue to bring me food and help me get my computer back to my room. My apartment is spotless and ready for me to stay in, so the boys spend most of Sunday in my room in between football practices. They bring back dinner Sunday night, all muddy and sweaty, making my mouth water.
I’ve spent every waking moment with them, never sorting myself out. So as the weekend goes on, my heated stares become more apparent. On more than one occasion, the boys catch me drooling over them, but I can’t help it. The more I’m around all three of them, the more my attraction builds. And the more my attraction builds, the more I want them—inside of me, kissing me, with their tongues in places I’ve only dreamed of.
“Where’s Chase?” I ask, digging into the Japanese food Seger brought back from a restaurant downtown. My eyes practically roll into the back of my head as soon as the spicy rice hits my taste buds, and oh God, it’s delicious. I could eat this every day and never tire of it.
“I’m gonna need a cold shower now,” Seger chokes, holding a hand over his eyes. He rolls onto his back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. But what is he complaining about? He’s lying there in all his tattooed glory, shirtless after football practice like a Goddamn offering. Part of me wants to set my sushi pieces on his abdomen so I can lick them off one by one. And the other part? She wants to do the same, except lower and more thorough.
“Shut up,” I snort, throwing a tiny package of salt at him, hitting him on his hard nipple.
