Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,57
“I’ll take Brielle up the wall or some shit.”
“Take me where?”
I whip around, Cap, Victoria, and Brielle now standing behind me.
My grin spreads when I have to look down to see Brielle.
I’m a fucking beast compared.
Hold up, she asked a question.
“Outside, Imma take you outside. Wait,” I pause. “You afraid of the dark? ‘Cause if you are, me and my brothers are good at distracting—”
“Shut up.” Raven chuckles.
I smile, and Brielle frowns between us.
“Nah, never mind. I know you’re not afraid of the dark.” I don’t realize I’ve slipped closer until the fabric of her shirt heats my fingertips. “You sleep in it, ain’t that right, little Bishop?”
She squishes her lips to the side. “That’s right.”
“How else you sleep?”
She reaches up to pat my chest, and my pulse jumps beneath her palm like a pubescent little punk, my hand flying up to keep it there, pressing it firmer against me.
Damn, that shit’s warm.
She laughs, shaking her head lightly. “You want to know how else I sleep, Playboy?”
“Tell me all about it, Tink.”
She lifts her chin to bring herself closer, but she’s so damn small, she’s still far as fuck away. “Alone.”
My family’s laughs wrap around us, and Brielle smiles.
My focus falls to find shiny, wet lips, but not just wet lips.
Thick and full ones, peachy pink with rich ridges and a bite me, baby pout.
Where’d they come from?
Better yet, where they willing to go?
Wait, what?
I squeeze my eyes shut and jerk back, shaking myself out of... whatever the fuck I’m in.
I need those shots.
Brielle tips her head. “I take it that pill you tried to kill me with is kicking in?”
“Not kill, just horn you out a bit so you’d learn.” I grin, and her mouth falls open and a laugh. “It’ll wear off quick. Takes two to roll right.”
She flicks her eyes to the ceiling. “Of course it does.”
Brielle steps back, looking to the others.
Neither of us misses the way Maddoc watches her, the others, too, but they’re more chill about it where Maddoc wants her little ass to know where she stands—in motherfuckin’ limbo until he knows what she’s about.
It’s good, she needs to feel that divider between us and her, ‘cause it’s big.
“All right, we’ll head to the crates,” I tell him.
Maddoc nods. “We’ll meet you in here after the fight.”
Before I can respond, Brielle takes a step toward Maddoc, unaware of how Raven moves with her, pregnant and all.
“Wait, fight?” she asks.
Raven smiles now. “Wrapped knuckles, but no gloves, no gear. Just sweat and blood, like animals.”
Brielle starts to shake her head, her mouth opening as she turns to look at me, but then her expression goes slack.
“Okay,” she says.
“No, no.” Now I’m the one shaking my head and stepping toward her. “Don’t.”
She frowns. “Don’t what?”
She knows what I’m saying, but since she wants to play dumb, I lay it out for her.
“Don’t close your mouth when you’ve got something to say. Don’t back down when you’ve got an opinion, and don’t let what someone else thinks, likes, or wants have any fuckin’ lead or sway on what you do, got me?”
Her neck grows red, a small fire lighting in her eyes. “I thought you wanted good little soldiers who fall in line?” she dares.
Irritation burns under my skin and I move closer, bending to get in her face more. “You’re not a soldier, little Bishop. You’re too soft, but we’ll harden you up in time. Not sure you’ll ever get there, though, if you can’t even share what pops in that pretty little head of yours.”
“I can speak my mind fine and don’t need any coaching to do it.”
“So why bite your tongue, baby girl?”
She steps into me, tipping her head with both brows lifted. “Because there’s a difference in backing down and choosing not to be disrespectful.”
“It’s called weakness. Fear of backlash.”
“It’s called not being a dick, and what kind of privileged asshole are you to think I have to share a single thing that happens in my pretty little head with you or anyone else?”
“That,” I snap, a slow grin following. “Is more like it.”
Her eyes fly to mine, holding, and a small laugh leaves her. “So which is it, Playboy, you want me to play the lamb or the lion?”
My muscles flex beneath my shirt. “How ‘bout my lamb, the world’s lion?”
Wait, what?
I’m about to take it back, erase the line from the universe but then she fails to hide her smile.
She looks away. “You’re impossible. And kind of bipolar.”