A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(17)

For whatever reason, this guy cares—he cares way too much about me. And not in a good way.

“Maybe I actually want to work with Wren.” I take a step closer, my voice dropping. “Maybe I want to get closer to her. Learn all of her secrets. What she likes. What she doesn’t like. Maybe the more time she spends with me, she’ll let down her guard and realize I’m not such a bad guy after all.”

Figueroa snorts. “Please. You don’t give a damn about her.”

“And you do?” I raise my brows. “You’re just mad because you know, no matter what, she’ll never fall for your tricks. Not really. She’s such a good girl, Fig. A sweet little virgin who wouldn’t dare to ever think of having sex with a guy who’s old enough that he could be her father. Her teacher. Someone she looks up to and admires.”

Figueroa’s expression tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.

“Unfortunately for you, Wren is saving herself for her future husband, not some perverted asshole who’s her English teacher,” I tack on, just to make him angry.

It works. His jaw shifts and his lips part as if he’s about to say something, but I cut him off.

“Wren might consider something with me though. I’m young—more age-appropriate than you, that’s for damn sure. Really, we’re just two horny teenagers, working together on a project, you know? We’ll definitely need some library time. Private time. Just the two of us. I know she likes to study in there—it’s her favorite place on campus. I’ll make sure we’re tucked away in a dark corner, and I’ll eventually make my move there, among the stacks.”

“She’ll slap you in the face.”

“Or, she might spread her legs wider and let me slip my hand in her panties. I’m willing to take the chance. I’m sure once she gets a taste of it, of me, she’ll be willing—and eager—to experiment. With me.” I grin when I see the anger flare in his eyes. I’m having way too much fun with this, but I probably need to back off. Knowing him, he’ll run to my little birdy and tell her what I said about her. She’ll probably believe him too.

Which I suppose she should.

Figueroa blows out a harsh breath, pointing at me. “You so much as touch a hair on her head and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” I interrupt, my voice scarily calm. “You’ll kick my ass? Bring it. I’m not scared of you. And I know for a fact I could destroy you, Fig. You’re getting soft in your old age. Your only exercise currently is rolling around with Maggie in the back seat of your car. Don’t you get sick of that shit?”

He stares at me, his breathing coming fast, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and I shove my hands in my pockets, already bored with our conversation.

“Leave Wren alone,” he demands, but there’s not as much power in his voice as there was before. “That’s all I’m going to say. If you do anything to hurt her, there will be repercussions.”

I watch him walk away, amused. His threats are meaningless. They just make me want to break down that steel wall Wren guards herself with and fuck with her head. Drive her out of her mind with wanting me.

I could do it. It wouldn’t take much. The girl is starved for male attention. You can just tell. She keeps herself so tightly locked up. She’s got to be harboring some secret fantasies deep inside.

Hopefully they’re sick and twisted, and she’ll let me reenact them with her.

This stupid project will help me get to know her. Learn what makes her tick. I’ll figure her out, seduce her, and next thing I know, I’ll be walking into Honors English with her under my arm, my lips on her forehead as I stare at that jealous dick we call our teacher, sitting behind his desk.

It’ll be my fucking pleasure to put on that performance.

A smile curls my lips as I, once again, head for the dining hall.

I can’t fucking wait.





The moment I enter Skov’s classroom, my gaze lands on Wren. She’s sitting in my seat, Malcolm and Ezra flanking either side of her at their desks, the two of them competing with each other as they try to gain Wren’s attention. Her head whips back and forth between them, a little smile curling her lips.

I suddenly understand what Figueroa must’ve been feeling when I said all of that shit about Wren to him. I’m feeling it now, no matter how much I want to deny it.

Full-blown jealousy consumes me, making my blood run hot and my head want to explode.

She doesn’t notice me until I’m practically standing on top of her Mary Jane’d feet, her head lifting so her wide-eyed gaze meets mine. My friends go silent. Feels like the entire room goes quiet as we study each other.

“You’re sitting at my desk, Birdy,” I accuse, my voice low.

My friends share a look, no doubt noting my ominous tone.

Wren is seemingly unaffected by it. “I thought we were meeting back here.”

I glance over at Ezra, who has a shit-eating grin on his stupid face. “You shouldn’t talk to her.”

The smile fades and now he’s scowling like me. “You don’t own her.”

“You definitely don’t,” Wren retorts when I bring my attention back to her. “They’re my friends. Unlike you.”

Point taken. One for Birdy.