Glass Heart Savage - Lindsey Iler Page 0,37

forcing him to step aside. “Or better yet, Palmer, find mine.” His accusation is a whisper, allowing only the three of us to bear witness to his words.

“Go fuck yourself,” I whisper, shoving him away from my desk. He stumbles a little bit, earning me an appreciative laugh from Marek.

With methodical movements, Byron runs his brown, sultry eyes up and down my body. “I know what that mouth can do, so I can only imagine what that tight little pussy of yours is capable of doing to a man. Weakening their knees, buckling their resistance, transforming their entire soul from a single pulse.” He licks his lips and backs away.

The class is none-the-wiser of our teacher’s words. They are blissfully in their own worlds, unaware of the debauchery happening under their own noses. Those who the Glass House Boys allow in know the rules. No one utters a single word. Secrets run this place. Always have.

“What my sister ever saw in Byron Decatur is a mystery to me,” I whisper as Marek takes the chair next to me.

“Sometimes we don’t need to understand others, Palmer. Sometimes it’s better to believe they see something redeemable.” He pulls out his notebook and leans back in his seat.

His stare shifts over his shoulder. Dixon sits next to Marek, while Breaker plops down next to me. The three of them stay silent yet manage to say so much by the seats they occupy during class. A single choice shifts the entire dynamic of our student body.

“He’s right. You don’t understand us, and yet, you aren’t running away.” Breaker winks, chewing the cap on his pen while seeming to focus on the front of the class.

Byron blathers on about today’s lesson. I don’t comprehend a single word, too self-aware of the gods sitting beside me, choosing to make a silent declaration. Problem is, I seem to be the only one willing to acknowledge what they’re doing.

I lean towards Breaker, covering my mouth to hide my words. “Would you believe me if I had my own selfish reasons for not running away?”

“You’re a Weston. I’d expect nothing less.” He turns his head, bringing us nose to nose, and inspects my lips. I wet them with my tongue. Did he just moan? He wouldn’t try to kiss me, would he?

Marek clears his throat, and my notepads hit the floor. Breaker snickers as I bend over and come face-to-face with Marek cleaning up the mess he’s made.

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at him.” A jealous Marek is a sight to behold. He’s all anger and grimace.

“He’s the one who was getting awfully close to my lips.” My eyes widen from Marek’s disapproval. “Not that it’s any of your business who I kiss or don’t kiss.”

“Don’t ever apologize for wanting me, baby,” Breaker whispers over my shoulder. The playful tone in his voice proves what I already know. He’s the jokester among these stoic and harsh boys.

“Oh, shit. Here we go,” Dixon adds to the conversation.

Marek abruptly stands and offers me his hand. “Up. Now.” Apparently, Marek doesn’t think Breaker’s as funny as I do.

“No,” I bark as I finish cleaning up my papers. “You made a mess of my stuff.”

He bends at the waist just enough to get his point across. “Stand up, Palmer, or I’ll embarrass the fuck out of you. Leave the shit on the floor. You’ll be back for it.”

We have a silent standoff in the middle of class. Byron is lecturing, and no one bats an eyelash at Marek’s obnoxious outburst. He wiggles his fingers, giving me little choice but to take his offered hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.

“Afraid not, doll face.” Marek steps around Breaker, pulling me along behind him. He nods at Byron, who, along with my classmates, watch as I’m tugged into the hallway.

Marek’s tight on my back, he might as well be in my skirt with me.

“You know how ridiculous this is?” I say.

His hand presses into my chest with enough force to push me into the row of lockers. The metal screams out from my intrusion, and I plant my feet to stop myself from falling over. Marek’s body is pinned against mine before my brain has a chance to understand the rush of being manhandled and pulled from the classroom. He steps one foot between my legs, giving himself enough room to snuggle close between my thighs.

“Does it look like I’m playing around with you, Palmer?” He tucks his face

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