The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(69)

Jake’s eyes are half-lowered and hungry when he straightens, and a thrill races up my spine. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe he just fucking kissed me. My lips feel swollen, a little raw from the stubble he’s rocking. Jake slowly presses his index finger to my mouth, rubbing it along my bottom lip. “So pretty, Silver. You’re so damn pretty. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes the martini glass and sets it down on the island, leaving it behind as he drags me toward the stairs. He seems filled with urgency, keen to hurry away from the noise and the crowd of the party. Halfway up the stairs, urging me ahead of him, he places his hand on the bare skin of my back, brushing my hair out of the way, and places a kiss on top of my shoulder.

I’ve never been up to the third floor of Leon’s house—it’s the only area of the sprawling, breathtakingly designed mansion that’s out of bounds. I have no idea what to expect as Jake guides me down a long hallway with architectural plans pinned to the walls, and strange, small Japanese-looking knickknacks arranged neatly on the shelves. This is Mr. Wickman’s domain. I’ve never met him, but from what I’ve heard over the years, Leon’s mother’s death changed the man. Made him a little unhinged. I see no sign of madness here, as I walk along the hallways, past meticulously tidy rooms with open doors. The reading nook we pass looks so inviting that I could easily pull a book from the imposing shelves to sit and read for a while, despite the churning pulse at my throat.

“There. On the end, see,” Jacob whispers against my shoulder. “Terry’s bathroom’s insane. You’re gonna freak out when you see it.”

I'm feeling a little silly. A little giddy. My brain isn't focusing properly. The world's started to feel a little…spongy. “Does it have a sunken bath? I’ve always wanted to try one of those.” My voice hardly sounds like my own.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. We can try everything. Would you like that?”

I nod, and my brain feels like it’s bouncing around the inside of my skull. The edges of my vision seem to be softer than it should; everything’s a little muzzy, but I feel good. Really good. Jake ushers me into the bathroom, and I falter when I see that Sam and Cillian are already there, leaning against a huge slate grey counter, stocked with fancy looking little bottles of soaps and shampoos, along with a mountain of hand towels, rolled up, like you see in hotel spas. They look like little burritos, which, for some reason, makes me laugh.

I still don’t like the fact that Cillian and Sam are here, though. Especially Sam. “I thought we were going to be alone,” I whisper to Jake. I can’t have whispered as quietly as I’d hoped; the other guys must hear me because they share this look, smiles curling up the corners of their mouths, their eyes narrowed into half crescents, and I try to take a step back toward the door.

“Hey, hey, easy. Easy. It’s okay. We just came up here to have some fun, right, boys? You want to have some fun with us, don’t you, Silver? I thought you liked to party.” Jake’s hand on my arm feels comforting. His voice is soothing. But when I look up into his eyes, they look the same as Sam and Cillian’s eyes—primed, shining and excited. A cold jolt fires like a piston up my spine, like cold water. Like jumping into the lake in the dead of winter.

“Wouldn’t it be more fun if Kacey and Zen were here? Or Halliday? I can…I can go and get them.”

“There’s only so much coke to go around,” Jake says tightly. “And besides, we want to get to know you a little better. I hate to say it, Parisi, but your friends are all super cunts. Way too bitchy, especially Winters. If they came up here, they’d ruin the dynamic. Cillian, why don’t you rack ‘em? We probably don’t have long.”

Sam connects his cell to the Bluetooth speakers that are mounted onto the walls while Cillian preps a worryingly long line of coke along the slate counter. A creeping sense of unease keeps trying to sneak up on me, but every time I begin to worry, Jake touches me, his hand on my arm, or my back, or my side, and the attention dispels the dread.

I can’t believe he likes me.

I can’t believe he’s finally noticed me.

I can’t believe he kissed me.

I can’t believe he chose to spend time with me.

‘Santeria’ by Sublime erupts from the speakers, just as Cillian ducks down and inhales a good three inches of the insane line he’s just cut. The music seems way too loud, thumping at the back of my head, but no one else seems to mind. Cillian hands Jake a rolled-up bill, his eyes rolling wildly, a dazed smile pulling his mouth open.

“Uhhhhh, oh my god. It’s good. It’s good. Fuck. My face is numb as fuck,” he jabbers, his words bleeding into one another. “Get in there, boss.”

Jake doesn’t need telling twice. He snorts just as much as Cillian, if not more. He staggers when he stands, pinching his nose, eyes tightly closed. “Shiiiiit. I think I just came,” he hisses. “Holy fuck.”

I laugh because Sam and Cillian are both laughing. I don't stop laughing, even when Jake grabs hold of his dick through his pants, squeezing, working his hand up and down his obvious hard-on through his jeans. He’s just playing around. He’s just being a jock in front of his friends.

Sam dances along with the music as he takes his place in front of the counter for his hit. Jake has moved behind me, pressing his chest up against my back. He’s stopped touching himself, but I can feel his erection butting up against my ass. His hands move to my hips, which feels good, and then they’re moving up over my stomach, higher and higher; he skirts around my breasts, one hand resting around the column of my neck, stroking my skin hypnotically, while he buries the other in my hair. His breath is so hot against the shell of my ear. I’m his to puppet as he pulls me back against him, off balance, so that I’m leaning against him with most of my weight.