Page 68 of Cocky Prince
She wraps her arms over her chest and rubs the skin pebbled in gooseflesh on her upper arms. “I didn’t do what the town accused me of, but I allowed them to beat me down. It pissed me off—itstillpisses me off.”
I stand and walk over. Reaching for her hand, I pull her up and take her seat, easing her onto my lap. I brush aside the hair where she touched her head. Sure enough, there’s a small crescent scar beneath.
I wrap her in my arms and press her cheek to my chest where I can keep her warm and safe. I seriously want to hurt someone—preferably the dicks that attacked her. “Why didn’t the police do anything?”
“They tried, but it happened so fast I never saw who did it. I was too busy running for my life. The car I described, based on the split-second glance I got before things were being hurled at me, fit the description of half the cars in our high school parking lot. For all I knew, the kids came from another school. The rumor about me wasn’t limited to ours. It spread.”
Hayden and her parents didn’t have the resources my family does. She wouldn’t have been able to sustain a scandal like that without more bastards hurting her. “Too many people around this town think it’s their moral obligation, in between living off the gambling and drinking of others, to judge,” I mutter.
She settles her head on my shoulder. “I came back—that’s all that matters. I’m not running anymore.”
I stare down at her and lightly kiss her forehead. “You’ll never need to run again.”
Because as far as I’m concerned, I will do whatever it takes to protect her.
* * *
Hayden
Adam carriesme back to my bed, where he divests me of what little I’m wearing and covers me with his body. It’s warm and cozy, and I’m certain he means it as a comforting gesture, but our bodies can’t sustain close contact before hands begin to wander and heated kisses turn desperate with need.
In the afterglow of that second bout of lovemaking, I lay my head on top of his chest, our legs entwined. He pulls up a lock of my hair and looks at it in the light of the clock. Which reads two in the morning. I have to work tomorrow, but whatever. I never want to leave this spot.
“Why does your hair smell so good?” he says. “Like apples and cinnamon. I want to eat it.”
“Please don’t eat my hair. I need it to keep my head warm.”
He takes a giant whiff, then carefully sets the lock back on my shoulder. “Don’t get creeped out if I sniff your hair from time to time. It’s your fault it smells so good.”
“Don’t get creeped out if I smell your neck.”
He chuckles. “Why my neck?”
“Becauseyousmell good.”
His arms tighten around me. “You can smell me. And touch me. As a matter of fact, there’s something reaching for you right now that you’re welcome to touch.”
I swat his chest and he chuckles. “I can’t believe you have the energy for that.Again.”
Adam yawns. “Idon’t, but there’s another part of me that perks up whenever you’re near. He’s on alert twenty-four-seven.”
“Good to know for when I wish to take advantage of you.”
“Twenty-four-seven,” he repeats, his voice groggy, as though he’s falling asleep.
A few seconds pass, and I’m not even sure if he’s awake. My mind wanders to our conversation earlier. Being stoned by a group of kids from school was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. I felt helpless, but for some reason, sharing it with Adam released a weight from my chest.
Secure and more comfortable than I can remember being in a long time, I ask the question that’s been on my mind all night. “Adam,” I say quietly.
“Mmm?”
“Where is your mother?”
His breathing stills. Then his chest deflates as he pulls me closer. “She died of cancer when I was six.”
My hand flexes against his chest at the shock of his confession. “I’m sorry.”
He rubs my arm. “Was a long time ago.”
