Broken Trust: A Dark High School Romance(49)

“Beck—” Dylan started to say, but cut short when Beck’s death glare landed on him.

“Go back to the party, Dylan,” he said with no outward showing of emotion, but it was very clearly a command and there was zero room for arguments in his tone. “Here, take this.” He held out the flash drive, which Dylan took with a reluctant glance in my direction. “Now fuck off. Riley and I need to chat.”

Beck’s steely glare turned back to me, and I caught Dylan mouthing “sorry” at me from over his broad shoulder.

I tightened my jaw and raised my chin to meet Beck’s glare. He was trying to intimidate me, and I’d be damned if I let him.

“Did you have something to say?” I asked him in what was supposed to be a sassy, sarcastic way. Instead it came out as a provocative whisper, and I wholeheartedly blamed our front row seats to the senator’s sex show.

He was in no hurry to reply to me, letting the tension build between us until my nerves were wound tighter than a violin bow.

“Riley,” he finally said in a voice like sin. “Did I just see you kissing Dylan?”

Dread rippled through me, and I sucked in a sharp breath to defend myself. But shit! How could I backtrack out of this one?

“Before you say anything,” he continued, in that dangerous, seductive tone, “I’ll remind you that although we may be fighting right now, I have in no way relinquished my claim on you. And I have no intention of ever doing so. You belong to me, Butterfly, and you fucking well know it.”

His caveman routine turned me right the fuck on, but it also got my back up. “Excuse me?” I demanded, letting my anger boil up and embracing it. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself, you misogynistic prick. I’m not a possession to own, and if I choose to kiss Dylan then that’s my fucking choice, Beck.” I practically growled his nickname at him, stubbornly refusing to call him Sebastian like I had when we were on better terms.

The fact that I’d kissed Dylan to give us a plausible excuse for being where we weren’t supposed to be, well that was beside the point.

He glowered at my words, his jaw ticking with barely concealed fury. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned in closer to me. His hands were braced on the wall either side of me, my back flat on the wallpaper, and his face was just inches from mine. I had nowhere to run to ... even if I wanted to.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Butterfly,” he whispered with dark promise, “I do own you.” He paused and leaned in closer still, until our lips were just a breath away. “Just like you own me.”

Blame it on the martini, the sex scene we’d all witness, or temporary insanity, but I totally lost control. At his whispered confession that I owned him, I closed the distance between us and kissed him with all the pent up anger and frustration of the past month.

Our tongues met, tangling together in a frenzy of emotion, our teeth clashing and our lips devouring. My hands found the back of his neck, gripping tight and demanding more as his body crushed me into the wall. Every inch of me was pressed to him as we drank each other in, and I moaned against his mouth.

Conflicting emotions swirled through me, fighting for supremacy but all I wanted was to pretend none of it existed. We had our issues—by God we had our issues—but just for a few minutes I wanted to forget all the betrayals and the pain and the goddamn infuriating control-freak bullshit. All I wanted, was to get lost in Sebastian Roman Beckett and deal with the rest later.

“Sebastian,” I groaned as he kissed down my neck, and he froze. “What?” I demanded, feeling panic flare at the sudden loss of contact.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his lips hovering over my skin. His breath was warm against my damp skin, and every exhale sent lightning bolts of sensation flickering through me.

A smile curved my lips, realizing what I’d just said. Fuck it, if that’s what he needed...

“Sebastian,” I breathed again.

This time, it was like a switch had been flipped. His mouth returned to mine, kissing me with bruising intensity as he lifted me clean off my feet and hitched my legs up around his waist. Thank fuck for the dramatic split in my dress, or that move would have surely ripped it. Not that I gave a shit, it would be worth it.

My eyes were closed, my entire existence consisting of Beck and nothing else so I barely even noticed when he moved with me in his arms, opening the door we had been stopped beside and walking us inside.

“That was convenient,” I murmured as he set me down on the bathroom vanity and leaned back to flick the lock on the door. He just shot me a cocky smirk, then reclaimed my mouth in yet another demanding kiss that set my whole body on fire.

My legs spread, and I used my heels hooked around Beck to pull him closer to me. Ever since he’d kissed me in front of the guards—fuck, okay, well before that—I’d been craving his touch, and I was beyond the point of waiting.

“Fuck, Butterfly,” he groaned, grinding his hardness against me and biting down on the fleshy part of my neck. “You drive me insane.”

I let out a small laugh as my hands found his belt and made quick work of opening it. “The feeling is entirely mutual, Sebastian Beckett.” I bit my lip as my hand found the velvety smooth skin of his cock and wrapped around the length of it.

He hissed as my fist stroked him up and down, but it was only the briefest moment until he was back in control. There was an urgency hanging over us, and I knew he could feel it too. Not only had we already been gone long enough to arouse suspicion, but we both knew our shit hadn’t been resolved. How long until one of us—probably me—decided this was an awful mistake and called it all off?