The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy, #1)(17)

7:31. Perfect.

It won’t take me too much longer to get ready, and I’ll be just late enough to piss of Lincoln Black.

I toss my towel on the bed and open the top drawer of my dresser. I’m about to pull out a pair of panties when I hear a noise behind me.

The bedroom door bursts open as I whirl around, and Lincoln stops in the doorway, his hand still on the knob.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. I’m clutching a pair of lace panties to my bare chest, and he’s frozen in place, halfway through the door.

All the oxygen seems to evaporate from the room, as if an invisible inferno has sprung up and consumed it all. The temperature seems to spike too, and my entire body feels hot.

“Close the fucking door!” I whisper-shriek, finally forcing sound past my vocal cords.

He does… but with himself on the wrong damn side of it.

The door slips shut with a click behind him, and he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze zeroes in on mine, his focus riveted to my face. He’s not openly staring at my body, but it doesn’t matter. Every nerve ending in my skin is lighting up like the fucking Fourth of July.

“I said 7:30,” he murmurs.

“And I said get out,” I rasp.

“No, you didn’t. You told me to close the door. Now get fucking ready before you make us any later.”

This first-class asshole.

He knows exactly what I was doing, trying to make us both late to class. And I get the feeling he’s still pissed at his dad for making him agree to drive me. So he’s using this opportunity to torture me.

Fine. He’s not the only one who can play that game.

“Whatever you say, sir.” I toss the word out like it’s an insult, then slowly lower the scrap of lace from my chest.

His breath hitches, and his gaze, which was so carefully locked on my eyes, drops. I can feel my own breath pick up, and against my will, my nipples peak as nerves and a flush of arousal surges through me.

This is a stupid fucking game, and dangerous too, but I started it. I can’t stop now.

I straighten the panties in my hands and bend over slightly to step into them, watching him as I do. His gaze drifts lower, to the place between my thighs, and my inner muscles clench involuntarily as goose bumps rise on my skin.

He might’ve talked shit about my looks with his friends, but that’s not stopping him from staring at me now. And he doesn’t look like he hates what he sees at all.

When my panties settle on my hips, I turn around and grab a bra from the drawer, sliding that on slowly as well. Lincoln’s entire body is tense, as if he’s fighting some kind of internal battle, and the veins in his neck stand out a little. I walk to my closet, keeping my steps slow and measured despite my pounding heart and shaky limbs, and grab out a pair of jeans and a sweater.

I keep my back to him as I bend to step into the jeans, and the sound of his sharp inhale makes my heart slam against my ribs. My movements are a little jerky as I pull the sweater on, and I work hard to compose my face before turning back to him.

“Ready. Sir.”

My hair is still wet, but I’ll just let it air dry. And I’ll go without makeup today.

I feel like our little standoff has pushed one—or maybe both of us—to the breaking point, and I honestly don’t think I can handle another second alone in this room with him. I’m fully clothed now, but Lincoln’s gaze is still on me, still burning into my skin. We both know he’s seen everything underneath, which makes me feel like I’m still naked somehow.

“Good. Come on.” His voice is low and rough, and he turns away from me like it takes physical effort. He yanks the door open as I grab my backpack, hastily stuffing a few loose notebooks inside. “And don’t fucking make me wait again.”

I follow him down the stairs and to his car, my legs wobbling like all my bones have gone soft.

Honestly, in this weird battle of wills the two of us have going on…

I’m not sure either of us won that round.





7





I underestimated how awkward it would be to be trapped in a small metal box with Lincoln—or maybe it’s just because I hadn’t counted on him seeing me completely naked immediately beforehand.

But the second we get in the car together, I can feel it. His large hands grip the steering wheel hard, and I keep my gaze forward for a few minutes, but eventually, I can’t stand the tension.

I reach over to flip on the radio and start skimming through stations, listening to a few lyrics of each song before scanning forward to the next.

Lincoln makes a noise of irritation in the back of his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something good.”

“They’re all fine. Just pick a fucking station.”

“Sorry. Radio privileges belong to the passenger. Everybody knows that.”

He growls and bats my hand away from the knob just as the radio lands on a maudlin country song. I smirk and sit back, running my fingers through the still-damp tangles of my hair. “Hope you’re happy.”

“Jesus. You are so fucking irritating.”

I glance over at him, my next question more genuine than teasing. “Is that why you don’t like me?”

“No. I don’t like you because—” He cuts himself off with another annoyed sound, shaking his head.