Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,174

help itself.

I glance over at him, silhouetted in a loose cotton t-shirt with Wesley’s scrawled across the front of it. He’s casual, barefooted, dressed in raggedy denim jeans that cup his firm ass and thighs in a way that’s truly criminal. Those jeans must be old, because they cling and grab in certain places, as if Aaron’s gotten a bit bulkier after purchasing them.

“Aaron,” I reply carefully as he comes up behind me, sliding his hands along my ribs and kissing the side of my neck again. I swear, there’s a permanent scar where he bit me during our big orgy at the house. Sometimes, I think I can still feel it throbbing, and I love that. I love that there’s a mark I can recognize his touch by.

The way his sweet mouth turns sour, I know he’s got something wicked in mind. Aaron steps up behind me, shoves my sweats down, and then opens the fly of his jeans. We have a quick, wild rut there at the counter, his hands kneading my breasts, his lips making love to my throat.

Afterward, when we’re chilling on the couch, Oscar comes out of the first of the other two bedrooms, the one he uses as an office.

“Meeting,” he barks, twisting a finger in the air in that sharp, peremptory way of his. Of course, the only person that can truly demand or order anything is Victor. Our boss pads down the hall and pauses, giving his lieutenant a bit of a look.

“Meeting, huh?” Vic asks wryly, but then he yawns and scratches loosely at the front of his t-shirt before taking a seat on the sofa across from me and Aaron. Callum crouches in the chair while Hael lounges beside his best friend. Oscar remains standing, setting the iPad on the table so we can look at a map of Oak Valley Prep. “What’s up?”

“We don’t have many good choices but to rest on the reality of the VGTF raiding the school. Maxwell and Ophelia will be arrested. At this point, that’s a fact.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a deep-set frown resting on his sharp lips. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing a gray wife beater and silky charcoal pants that probably feel amazing brushing up against his bare cock.

I adjust myself in Aaron’s arms and he hugs me close. Last night, we sat together in the living room with a single candle burning and worked on scanning those old photos of me and Penelope into the cloud. We did the same with the documents in the cardboard box and then sat there, eating chocolate and reminiscing. He remembers my sister better than any of the other boys, Aaron does.

His fingers play absently in my hair, the way they used to do when we were fifteen and newly in love. Oscar watches us for a moment before glancing back at Vic.

“I’ve calculated the risks for a dozen different scenarios, and this is our best bet.” Oscar gestures at the iPad again and then folds his fingers beneath his chin, stroking the strong column of his throat. “It’s out of our hands now.”

The fingers of Victor’s left hand clench around the end of the sofa arm, fingertips denting the leather in just such a way that it creaks. I’m not the only one looking at him; the rest of the boys are watching. They know as well as I do that letting Ophelia go means spending months more on edge, fighting, struggling, plotting, planning. It also means that Vic might never get to cross his mother off his own, personal list.

A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he nods once, nice and sharp. An agreement.

“That’s it?” Aaron asks, sitting us both up from our snuggled position on the couch. He keeps his arms around me though. “That’s how we’re going to deal with these fuckers? They stormed our school, Vic. They killed Stacey; they almost killed Callum. Your mom …”

“I know all about my mother,” Victor replies, his voice quiet, almost menacing. He turns his attention away from us, toward the window and the glowing orb of the sun as it dips low in the sky. With just a couple of weeks left in the school year, we’re running out of time.

“Based on what we know of the raid,” I start, drawing all of the boys’ attention but for Vic’s. He keeps his gaze focused out the window instead, fingers idly teasing the leather of the couch. “It’s