Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(88)
Possessive. Hungry. Angry.
“You taste like heaven, little sister,” he hisses into my mouth. Nothing about this feels right. People know us as brother and sister. The fact that we’re not blood-related is only somewhat consoling. Hell, even the kiss doesn’t feel right. Like we’re doing it all wrong. I feel him squeezing my ass harder, digging his dirty fingernails into my flesh, and wince.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” His words not only pierce—they penetrate me—along with his fingers that are now dragging themselves slowly, roughly toward my sex. I breathe out harshly.
“Ryan,” I drop my forehead to his, “you’re hurting me.”
“I know.” His tongue continues attacking my mouth, his hands even more aggressive on me than before.
Panic. It trickles into me slowly. I know Ryan. Know him well. He is not a bad guy—definitely not a good guy, but not a rapist either—and he knows damn well my dad would kill him if he ever seriously wronged me.
“You’re starting school tomorrow,” he says, licking his way down to my chin and neck. I let him, and even though I don’t want this, I can’t help my body’s reaction to his touch. It’s humming, singing, asking for more. And why not give in to feeling good with someone I know and trust with my life? Still, something holds me back.
“How you gonna get all the way to Henderson every day?”
“Take the bus,” I answer flatly. I’m not giving up on this opportunity. My dad somehow came up with my tuition to one of the best high schools in Nevada. Private. Top-notch. Said he’s been saving for years, and only just now—my senior year—saved enough to send me. Not that I’m complaining. I think Dad secretly feels guilty about being gone so often. That, and he’s heard what the kids at school say about me. That I’m a whore. A brother fucker.
After my best friend, Ella, moved away, they got worse. I was a lone ranger. An easy target. The boys were all afraid to interact with me—pussies—but the girls? Girls are vicious and sneaky. Like the boys, they’re also afraid of Ryan, but they did shit on the down low. Stashing shit—literal shit—in my locker. Stealing my clothes when I was in the shower after P.E. Stuff that couldn’t be directly traced back to them, even though we all knew who did it. And while I honestly never really cared what other people thought of me, I was being offered a golden ticket out of this shithole town, and I’m not giving it up. Especially not for something as miniscule as transportation.
“The buses don’t run that early, baby girl.” Ryan laughs, and why did I think he was that attractive in the first place? His smile is too big, his teeth too pointy, like a wolf’s, and the scent of his sweat is too sour.
“Nice try. I checked, Ryan. They’re twenty-four hours.”
“You can walk, my ass.” He pulls his head back, laughing. “You’re not taking the bus alone. I’m giving you a ride back and forth, got it?”
I hate depending on anyone for anything. I may not have a car, but I’ve worked since the day I turned fourteen. My dad signed a waiver, much to Ryan’s dismay, and I got a job at the Dairy Queen around the corner—where I reluctantly quit once I found out I wouldn’t have time to work when school started. When I need to be somewhere, I walk or ride my bike. Like I said, I despise being dependent on anyone, but if there’s one thing I hate more, it’s mornings. Specifically, early mornings. And to get to school on time, I’d have to wake up at an ungodly hour.
I want to say no.
I should say no.
But as his rock-hard erection grinds into me violently, I say something else entirely.
“Fine.”
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