Cruel Kisses (It's Just High School #2) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,98

of his body.

That’s when I notice the bruise already forming on the side of his face. Blood trickles down from his temple, and his bottom lip is also bleeding and I realize he just kissed me with that mouth, blood and all.

Primal.

That’s the first thought that enters my mind as I tentatively bring my fingers to my bruised lips to feel the warmth of blood there and all the while. I’m unable to look away from him.

The thought of blood on me has my heart racing but unlike with my nightmares, I feel strangely calm.

Maybe it’s because this is real or maybe it’s because Julian is staring down at me, daring me to protest his raw claim on me.

Blinking, I look up at him and realize that he just allowed Liam to do damage to him and he didn’t hit Liam back after that one punch. I notice that he’s beyond angry, he’s livid.

But above all that, he’s in so much pain and right now, he doesn’t trust me, looking down at me like I’m. the enemy.

“Did you see that, asshole?” Julian starts, his words clipped. “She’s fucking mine.”

“Calm the hell down, asshole” Liam demands, an amused look on his face. “I know that. I just need you to stop hovering in the shadows like a fucking stalker. She’s here. She wants you. She doesn’t make you love her, then hurt you. So, be a man, Julian.”

What?

All this was a show to make Julian snap?

“What the fuck, Liam?”

“Damn Cupcake, you look like you’re going to drop right there and croak.” He starts laughing. I swat his arm, annoyed.

“It’s not funny,” I swat him again. “You’re giving me a heart attack, Liam,”

“Liam—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“And for Pete’s sake, don’t look at me like I’m too wounded to function. You’re looking at me like you don’t know what to do with me now.”

That’s the truth. I really don’t know what to do with him now.

“Don’t worry, Cupcake. I’m still the same guy. I’ve lost shit. I’ve gained shit. It’s life. So don’t feel sorry for me or for yourself for that matter.”

I go to say something, but he shakes his head and glances at his brother who’s breathing hard and fast beside me.

“I guess you’ll be tapping out tonight, Cupcake.” He smirks then turns around to the crowd, arms raised, a huge smile on his face. “Play the music!”

And like a command, the music starts playing and the crowd starts dancing while I just stand there and stare up at a livid, brooding Julian, not knowing what to say.

He looks down at me, his eyes so dark, I have no idea what he’s thinking. And fuck me, I want to know what he’s thinking, I want it so bad, I ache all over.

As if reading me as clear as a book, he grabs my hand then and tugs me off the dance floor, not saying a word. Rye and Jaz are staring with their jaws on the floor while Julian basically manhandles me, then he takes me upstairs and I follow blindly, as if drunk on him.

Soon we reach some kind of office. He opens the door, tugs me in then shuts and locks the door behind him. The music is now muted, I guess it’s a soundproofed office.

“Fucking tell me right now, Mia,” he starts, looking ice cold and unreachable in the dark office that looks over the club. “Do you want him?”

“Want who?”

“My fucking brother,” he bites out. “Do you want him? Do you want him to fuck you? Do you prefer him for the job?”

Holy shit. An irrationally, sexually frustrated Julian Fitz is the sexist thing I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life.

“Julian…”

“Answer the damn question,” he growls, cutting me off.

“No!” I say, breathless, looking at him. God, how do I climb this tree because fuck, I want to ride him want him to make me forget everything as I ride him.

“Then tell me what you fucking want, Mia!” he growls, taking a step closer. “Because I fucking hate that you can’t communicate with me. You choose to run, ditching me at airports, behaving like a fucking child. I’m not playing a fucking game here!”

“I’m not playing either!” I shout now, frustration and sadness getting the better of me. “You by definition are not even mine to have or play with.”

“Fuck, you’re on about the fucking marriage shit?”

“Yes!”

“Little Minx, it means nothing! What the fuck do I do to prove it? How do I