“Don’t. Don’t do it. He’s expecting it.”
I let out a small laugh, running both hands back through my hair and pulling. “No, he’s not. He has his precious fucking campaign fundraiser tonight. The last thing he wants is a fucking busted-up face while he’s asking his fucking Ivy League fucking pig friends for a backhander.” I grind out each word, knowing it’s true. My father did not expect me to lash out at him. Never in a million years. I saw the look of shock on his face, right before my fist connected with his jaw. I guess he’s gotten used to my tolerance of his abuse, but his attitude toward Soph? He can give me shit all day long, but he cannot call her a whore.
“Well, he’s already going to have a split lip and a bruised jaw. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
I grit my teeth together, trying to bring my heart rate down. “No. It’s not.”
“Look at me.” Soph’s hands are on me again, this time on my face. She forces me to look down at her. She’s touching me. She’s trying to calm me down. That in itself is confusing. My father just insulted her and she doesn’t seem fazed. She didn’t protest. She didn’t tell him she had no choice but to come here—that the very last thing she cares about is his goddamn money.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” she says softly. “If you lose it, he’ll know he still has power over you.”
I look down at her, adrenalin still firing through my veins, and I do something stupid. It’s not even a case of me making a conscious decision to act; it just happens. I fold my arms around her, and I kiss her. She goes still in my arms, hands still flush against my face, as I press my lips against hers. She tastes sweet, just like sugar. Just like the name I’ve been using to try and irritate her the past few days. I couldn’t have known how appropriate it was until now. She’s holding her breath as I persuade her mouth open, and then dip my tongue inside. Instead of lowering my heart rate, my pulse is now jackhammering, my blood roaring around my body.
I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw her in the fucked-up prom dress outside Julio’s place. I’ve wanted to run my hands over her body, claim her as my own. I can feel her warring in her head—torn between letting me kiss her, kissing me back, or pushing me away. In the end, she does all three.
She remains still a moment more, but then she begins to sink into me, her back curving, bringing her body closer, her chest pressing up against mine. I bury my hands in her hair, my breath and hers combining, quickening, as she responds to me. Her tongue slips into my mouth, tasting me now. Her hands move from my face, sliding back around my neck, until she’s wrapping her arms around me, pulling me tighter.
A fire seems to spark within her. She’s doesn’t even pretend to hold back. She’s panting, every inch of her pressed up against me as she kisses me back, like her life depends on it. I was hard the second my lips hit hers, but my cock is straining in my pants now, throbbing painfully, demanding I go further. There’s no way she doesn’t know how badly I want her; my rock hard erection’s pressing up against her, between her legs, making demands all on its own.
I run my hands down her body, until I reach the warm, smooth, bare flesh of her thighs. She shivers against me, making a small, strangled sound at the back of her throat. She wants this. She wants me. I slowly move my right hand upward, skimming the material of the large, plain T-shirt she wore to bed, until I reach the curve of her breast. I pause there, waiting for her to move away. To tell me to stop. But she doesn’t. I palm her in my hand, groaning when I feel the weight and fullness of her. I can feel her nipple through the thin material of the shirt, stiffening, responding to me.
I want to lick at that nipple. I want to bite and tease and suck at it. I’m lifting the shirt when Sophia finally reacts. She tears her mouth away from mine, a wild look in her eye. Her hand whips out and slaps me across the face. A loud buzzing sound rings in my ear, deafeningly loud for a second before fading away. I touch my fingers to my jaw, stretching it out.
Sophia just stands there, her nipples still peaked and showing through the T-shirt, her lips pouting and bruised from our kiss. “Don’t you…don’t you fucking dare do that again,” she whispers. Her whole body is shaking.
“Why? Because you’re so in love with Matthew?” I ask. I can still feel my pulse in every part of my body—some places more painfully than others. Her gaze flickers down to my very obvious hard-on, her eyes shining a little too brightly. I don’t even try and hide it.
“You have no right to…I’m not your possession, Rebel.”
“I know that.”
“Then why the hell did you just treat me like I was? Something that belonged to you that you could just take?”
I lean back against the wall, my breathing slowly returning to normal. I don’t respond right away. I let it sink in—what just happened. I let her replay it a couple of times in her head, so she can see how ridiculous she’s being. “I didn’t take anything from you, sugar. I offered it to you. And you picked up what I was putting down.”
“I did not!”
I laugh, undoing the top button of the shirt I’m still wearing from yesterday. “Don’t they teach you anything about body language in your psychology class, sugar? I know quite a bit about body language.” I push off from the wall, standing directly in front of her. Touching my fingers to the delicate, beautifully soft skin around her eyes, I say, “For instance, when someone’s attracted to you, their pupils dilate.” I can barely see her iris for the deep well of black in her eyes right now. I trace my fingers up the side of her ribcage, fighting back a wicked smile. “Their breathing becomes erratic. Plus, women’s nipples tend to tighten. That’s an obvious one, given I can see your perfect nipples through the shirt you’re wearing.”
“Screw you,” Soph whispers, stepping away from me. She turns her back, hiding herself from me.
“I’m betting you’d be ready for that, too,” I tell her. I move myself behind her, pressing my body up against her back. She goes utterly still again, seemingly at war with herself. Slowly, I reach up, brushing her hair away from her neck, and then I stoop down to graze my lips ever so slightly against her soft, sweet-smelling skin. “I’m betting if I were to slide my hand down the front of your panties…” I slide my hand around her, starting from her hip, heading in that direction. “I’m betting if I were to do that, I’d find that you were more than ready for me to screw you.” My fingertips are almost doing it, almost sliding down the front of her lacy white underwear when she slaps my hand away.
“Stop. Please, Rebel. Just stop. I can’t…I don’t know what the hell is happening right now.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets, smiling softly at her. “I can tell you what’s happening right now, what’s been happening for days, but you won’t want to hear it.”
“You don’t know me, Rebel.” She says the words harshly, and I can hear the fear in her voice. She’s afraid, because she already knows what I’m about to say, and she knows that it’s true.
“You’re attracted to me, despite everything, and I’m attracted to you. We want each other, Sophia. It’s the reason why you’re so terrified right now. And it’s part of the reason why I’m letting you go.”
I leave the room, my head too messed up to even be in the same room with her right now. She doesn’t say anything as I go. She doesn’t deny that what I’m saying is true.
******
When I come across Leah, she’s in the foyer refreshing the flowers, dressed from head to toe in the ridiculous maid’s uniform Louis insists all his female employees wear. She looks up, sees me charging down the stairs, and grins.