Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(82)

Us.

He just said us.

“Torturing you, how?” I ask, and then Creed’s moving with lightning speed, dropping that lazy prince act for the unstoppable nightmare he is when he’s defending Miranda. He yanks me onto his lap, and I’m suddenly just straddling his hardness with my arms around his neck, his hands on my hips.

Our kiss is sudden and fierce, and it makes me forget that any time has passed since the last moment his lips were on mine. I forget the pranks and the bets and the torture, and I’m just grinding on him and kissing, small moans escaping us both.

Creed is the one who pushes me back, blue eyes sparkling. This time, his heavy-lidded gaze is anything but lazy. All it says to me is sex.

“How far do you want this to go?” he says, voice sharp with need. I swallow hard, and exhale, curling my fingers around his muscular shoulders. We press our foreheads together, and I feel like I might die. Despite everything, I missed this piece of shit. All I want is an … an I’m sorry.

“Are you filming it this time?” I whisper, and Creed goes stiff beneath me. I mean, stiff in other ways, less good ones.

“No.”

“Are you …” I lift my eyes up to his, and I can’t help but think about Zack. This feels somewhat like a betrayal. I told him we weren’t dating, that I could never be with him, but … “Do you take pleasure in what you did to me?”

Creed wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.

Please say it, I think. Please.

“If you think I’m going to tell anyone about this, I won’t.” He exhales, and there’s the first genuine bit of emotion I’ve seen from him in a long time. “You need to leave the school before it’s too late.”

“I’m not afraid of Harper and her bitch friends,” I snap, and Creed grits his teeth.

“Maybe you should be.” I sit down harder on his crotch and he groans. “Jesus, Marnye.”

“You destroyed me,” I choke out. I don’t mean to, but the words just fall from my lips. My body is still pulsing hot, my nipples hard, my lips aching from our kisses. “Why? Why, Creed? Was it fun?”

“I’m fucking sorry!” he roars, and it’s so outside his usual scope of self-expression that I’m beyond shocked. “I’m sorry I did it. But why did you have to pick him and not me? What the fuck, Marnye?” Creed grabs the back of my head and kisses me with so much heat and want that my head spins. This could all be a trap. For all I know, Valentina or Ileana is hiding around the corner and filming us.

My body moves of its own accord, rocking against Creed’s lap while our kissing reaches a crescendo. He shudders underneath me, groaning, his muscles going taut, hips bucking up towards mine. It takes me a moment to realize what just happened, and then I’m rearing back, cheeks flushed, mouth tingling.

“Did you just …”

“You were grinding on my bare crotch,” Creed whispers back, eyes closed, breath coming in heavy pants. His right hand sweeps down my back to cup my ass, and I’m pretty sure he’s looking to see what’s under my swimsuit …

I jerk back, scrambling to the opposite side of the hot tub.

That’s about when Miranda, Andrew … Zack and Windsor all appear.

“Oh.” Windsor says, sounding far too perky for the amount of tension in the room. I have no idea what I look like, but I catch Zack’s dark gaze, and I see the fury there. He looks like he might kill Creed. “Have we interrupted something? You’ve most definitely had sex now, haven’t you?”

“No,” I blurt, but I suppose it was as close to sex as I’ve ever gotten … “No, we … no.”

Miranda looks like she wants to puke. I’m a little surprised considering I thought she wanted me and Creed to be friends again.

“I’m gonna go,” Zack says, turning and striding off, his towel thrown over his muscular shoulders, his shorts riding low on his hips. I can’t look at Creed, and Windsor’s satisfied smirk is infuriating, so I stand up and climb out of the hot tub, snatching my towel as I pass Andrew. He just looks embarrassed, and confused. Guess I would be, too, if I thought my friend was out for revenge and ended up making her tormenter orgasm in a hot tub.

“Zack, wait,” I call out, padding after him, cheeks red, body flushed. He makes it outside before I grab hold of his arm and get him to whirl on me.

“Did you just screw him?” he shouts, but I’m shaking my head and then covering my face with my hands. “I thought you didn’t believe in these stupid Infinity Club bets? I get what you’re trying to do, but to go so far? To fuck a guy you hate? How could you, Marnye?”

“He … we were just kissing, and he …” I have no idea what to say, and I end up dropping my arms by my sides. Zack just stares at me and swallows hard. When he kisses me, I let him. I let him sweep my wet body up against his, and I love being in his arms so much that I’m … confused.

Did I cheat on Zack with Creed? Or am I cheating on Creed with Zack? Did I cheat on either of them when I kissed Tristan? Oh god. I’m not a cheater. I hate cheaters. Jennifer is a cheater. I can’t be.

“How are you going to choose?”

Miranda asked me that question last year. I hated it then. I hate it even more now.

I push Zack away from me, wrap my towel around my shoulders, and run all the way back to my dorm.