Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,10
triumph on his face is like an arrow to the heart, but my heart turned to stone a long time ago. I don't feel it at all.
My body likes his though, so much so that when I adjust myself and feel his hard, muscular form beneath me, I feel my breath catch.
Vic continues to smoke his joint, the sweet skunk-y smell of weed wafting around me. Pot smoke is so much denser that cigarette smoke, and I swear, it rolls off the lips like nothing else. I'm mesmerized, watching him. He puts one, big hand casually on my hip, studying me with a much sharper, much more intelligent gaze than I'd have ever pegged him for.
“Once you say yes to Havoc, that's it. Kiss me and seal the deal. There's no going back after that.” Vic spins the joint around and offers it up to me, a bit of ash catching on the breeze that flows between us. Across the street, I can hear two of his neighbors shouting at one another, but over here, in the sun, it's not so bad. When you exist in the ugly, you learn to live in the beautiful. “But first, smoke with me a little.”
“I don't feel like getting high,” I say, reaching for his cigarettes. Vic's free hand, the one that was resting on my hip, snaps out and grips my wrist, stopping me.
“Don't you ever have any fun, Bernadette?” he purrs, his voice this viciously beautiful sound, like a predator on the hunt. But a smart predator, one that doesn't expend energy unless absolutely necessary, one that stalks. I shiver, even though I can feel the sun on my back, even with the hot, hot heat of Victor's body between my thighs. I'm not shivering because I'm cold; we both know that.
“No, actually, I don't,” I say, but Vic doesn't release my wrist. He stays right where he is, waiting, holding the joint between us. Our eyes are locked, my green ones on his endless black, sharp as obsidian.
“Take the joint, Bern, and chill out a little.” His words, they're not a request. Narrowing my eyes, I take the joint and inhale, watching the cherry crackle down the length of the paper. My lips and tongue tingle as I exhale, blowing that thick, hot smoke. There's no helping the coughing, but Vic laughs at me anyway. There's no pleasure in the sound either, just a cold, cruel analysis of the situation.
He has me by the balls, and he knows it.
The weed hits me quick, sweeping over my body and making my hands and feet tingle. I exhale without even realizing it, like I'm taking my first real breath in a long, long time.
“Ahh, there we go,” Vic says as I take another drag, passing the joint back to him. He stabs it out in an ashtray, and then grips my hips with two, big, inked hands and then quirks a cocksure little smile that would have me feeling all kinds of pissed off if I wasn't high. “Now, kiss me and show me you really want this.” I lean forward, but Vic stops me, grabbing my chin in tight fingers. His frown is all sorts of cold hell. “Don't half-ass this, Bernadette. A deal's a deal, and we take our shit very seriously.”
“Don't you think I know that?” I snap back at him, and his fingers tighten on my chin. It hurts, but I don't want Vic to see how much, so I keep my expression stoic.
“You are going to mewl beneath me,” he says, his voice neutral but threaded with a darkness that makes my throat feel tight. I'm playing with fire here, but I don't care if I get burned. I want the whole world to turn to ash. “I've been wanting to fuck you since ninth grade.”
“Pervert,” I grind out, but only because I don't want him to notice how hard my nipples are beneath my tank top. Vic smirks at me and releases my chin, leaning back in the chair.
“It must hurt you, to sit on the lap of the guy that made your life a living hell. It must just tear you up on the inside, a strong girl like you. Submitting isn't exactly your forte, if I remember correctly.”
“Why don't you just shut the fuck up, so we can get this over with? I haven't agreed to anything yet. Are you trying to get me to walk away from this deal?”