Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(52)

“One of the campus security guards just walked by,” Zack whispers. “This might be a good time to slip out.”

I double and triple check to make sure that we have everything we came with, and that everything is left exactly as is.

When I move to stand beside Zack, he glances over at me, his gaze still lust-darkened, his lips still swollen from our kisses.

He opens the door and we step outside, making sure it's locked before we close it. We head back to the chapel building; I disappear into my dorm and close the door quickly behind me while Zack pads off down the hallway.

We don't talk about what happened in Miss Peregrine’s office for a long, long time.

Next week, just before winter break, when grades are posted again, Tristan’s drops substantially and I am now clearly in the lead again.

Take that, asshole.





“Tristan is furious,” Creed says, as he drapes himself over the chair next to mine in preparation for our tutoring session. I glance over at him, but I have this rule about having personal or private conversations with the Idol guys. It's just a no-go at this point.

Still, I can't help myself from teasing him.

“Whatever for?” I ask innocently, using my academy-issued iPad to pull up the assignment that we’re supposed to be working on.

Creed laughs, and his laugh is just as lazy as everything else about him. Insouciant. Cavalier. Disregardful.

“Oh, don't act like such an innocent little lamb,” he purrs, leaning in toward me, his eyes half-lidded, a wry smile on his lips. We haven't talked about what happened on Halloween. I imagine we’re never going to. “We all knew what Tristan, Harper and Becky had planned. So who told you?” I ignore him and focus on the assignment. Not only am I helping him with his, but I also have to complete mine. “Was it Zayd?”

“Why don't you focus more on your work and less on what everybody else is doing? Maybe then you could stop being second-best to Tristan.” I make myself smile as Creed frowns. In the back of my mind, I’m still dreaming up ways to mess with Tristan Vanderbilt. All I did this time was avert disaster for myself. Knocking him back to the second place spot he would've been in anyway if he’d left my essay and test alone, is not enough.

I think my only option at this point is Lizzie. I’m going to have to give her a call after this.

Creed reaches over suddenly, grabbing the arms of my chair and turning me to face him. One of his knees goes between my legs, and his hands keep my wrists pinned to the armrests. He leans in so close that our cheeks almost touch.

“If we wanted to,” he starts, putting his mouth to my ear and giving it a little lick, “we could destroy you and have you begging for more within the span of a week. We could make your entire life a living hell, not just the one you have at the school.”

Since Creed’s knee is between my thighs, that puts my own knee up close and personal with his crotch. I knee him hard in the junk, and he releases me, rearing back like I've … well, just kicked him in the balls. His eyes narrow to slits.

“If that's the case, then why haven't you done it already?” He stares back at me and says nothing, does nothing. “I know your personal reasons, but what about Tristan? What about Zayd?” I stand up from the table, shoving my supplies into my bookbag and turning a full-force glare on Creed. “Here's some dirt to deliver back to the King.” Creed’s face twists in disgust at the word. “Tell him that I'm nowhere near done with him. If he wants to mess with the bull, he's going to get the horns.” I lift my chin up, spinning in a swirl of skirts, and take off through the quiet darkness of the library.

Creed doesn't bother to follow or call after me. But that place where he licked my ear … it still burns.



There's a party the Thursday before winter formal, and the day before the second year’s leave for their ski trip. The only reason I know about it is because the Idols paid one of the Plebs to use their off-campus privileges to go and buy them new dresses. The girl, that very same Clarissa that badmouthed me and was banned from the swim team by Zayd last year, is the one talking about it in the hall as I walk by.

After classes let out for the day, I dress up, head over to Zack's room, and pray that he is not shirtless and wearing shorts again before I knock.

When he answers, he’s still dressed in his academy uniform, and he raises his brows at the pink jumpsuit and heels I’ve got on.

“You look nice,” he says, and the way the word nice comes out of his mouth … I know he means a whole hell of a lot more than just that. My cheeks flush, but I manage to hold his gaze without stuttering.

“Thanks. I'm on a mission tonight. Would you mind accompanying me?” Zack looks pretty shocked, but I know I can't go to an Infinity Club party without an Infinity Club member. I thought about asking Andrew, but despite Creed’s warnings, Greg and John are stalking him in the hallways, trying to find him alone in a dark corner, if you know what I mean. Last time it happened, it was a Saturday night, and Andrew videoed the entire encounter. He just barely managed to make it back to his dorm in time. So I don't want to put Andrew in danger, and the only Infinity Club member I know that I don't have an ongoing feud with is Zack.

“Where are we going?”

I smile, and with my left hand, I play with the necklace hanging around my throat.