Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(37)

“I’m sorry for acting like a royal bitch the last time we were down here,” she’d said. He’d wished that he hadn’t been so forgiving. Wished he’d made her sweat it out a little the way he had the entire time they were out of school, but damn it if he didn’t see the regret in her eyes and melt like a snow on the first day of spring.

“You’re forgiven,” he’d said easily, ending their first official fight as a couple. Or whatever the hell they were.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned against his lips during their lunch period. Her legs wrapped his waist, and he tried to remember why they had to stop. Everything she said and did turned him on so hard that it was painful. But the bell had rung and they were going to be late to fifth period.

“I don’t want to, darlin’. But we’ll be late to class. I’m still on behavior notice. One tiny slip and I get a week’s worth of detention. Or worse.”

“I’d give you conjugal detention visits.”

This time, it was Cooper’s turn to moan. “Damn girl. It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Her pliant body went instantly rigid. He didn’t know if it was his words or how high his hand had slipped up her skirt that made her go still, but he pulled back.

“Sorry. You okay?”

Even in the dark he could see that her face had paled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You’re right. We should get to class.”

She was like this sometimes. Hot then cold. A match that burned out pretty fast if he said or did the wrong thing. Sometimes, their time together felt like navigating a minefield. But it was worth it.

She wasn’t the kind of girl he could have long term. He knew that. She was slumming it with farm boy, having some Prom Queen identity crisis. But if he had to go to school every day to keep an eye on Ella Jane, he might as well enjoy it. He was happy to let her work out her issues on his mouth. And all other parts of his anatomy were at her disposal as well.

Just as the bell rang to signal the start of fifth period, a loud alarm rang out immediately after.

Tornado drill. He knew from previous experience she was likely to lose it a bit.

She pulled her phone from who knew where and started clicking away. He knew what she was doing—trying to open her weather app, the one she obsessed over every time the wind blew too hard.

“It’s a drill, babe. Has to be. There’s snow on the ground for Christ’s sake.”

“You never know. Storms are unpredictable,” she said without taking her eyes from the screen.

Cooper sighed. She was a lost cause when it came to this. He rested his hand on her bare thigh. “Okay. We might as well wait the drill out in here. Keep me posted on the latest Doppler radar updates.”

Surprisingly, she looked up at him. He felt her thigh muscles tense beneath his hand. “Do you think I’m crazy?” It was a whisper and a plea.

“No, I don’t. I promise I don’t. If I’d gone through what you did, I’d be the same way probably.”

She’d told him that she’d been hunkered down in a cellar during the storm and some debris had knocked her out. He hated that she’d been all alone.

“Really?” Her eyes rounded and he smiled.

“Well…maybe not quite as extreme. But it’s not my place to judge you, babe. If it makes you feel better to watch the weather app, so be it.”

She bit her lip, smiling sheepishly as she set her phone aside. “There’s nothing on it. You’re right. It’s just a drill.”

“Hmm…” He let his hand slide higher until he felt the silky edge of her panties. “What should we do to pass the time?”

“Make me forget storms even exist, Brantley.” She pressed her lips to his neck. “Make me forget.”

That he could do. He let two of his fingers slide inside her, taking their relationship the furthest it had ever been. The warm wetness that greeted him, and the welcome moan that escaped her, weakened his knees.

“Yes, ma’am.”

After some seriously intense foreplay that left him with visible evidence of what they’d been doing in that closet, Cooper adjusted himself and helped Cameron down off the cabinet she’d been sitting on. They exited the closet and blended into the sea of students headed back to class. Aside from her flushed cheeks and his raging hard-on, which he hoped he’d successfully hidden behind his zipper, there wasn’t any way anyone would know they’d done anything other than participate in the storm drill.

He wanted to kiss her once more, tell her that she was beautiful, or thank her for letting him touch her that way. But they had a live audience now, so she was steadily avoiding him.

As she should.

He swallowed the hurt that her not acknowledging him in public caused. It wasn’t a big deal. A few weeks and they’d probably never see each other again.

He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, that wasn’t as reassuring as it had once been.





“What brings you here today, Miss Nickelson?” Mrs. Farber—or Diane, as she’d introduced herself—asked. She moved her fingers across the tablet she was holding in front her. “Ahh, I see here that you were injured in the storm. How are you feeling?”

“Physically,” Cami started, trying not to squirm in the armchair she was sitting in across from the therapist she’d sought out, “I’m okay.”