Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,77

the hell did you get that?” Blake snorted.

“Is this why you’ve been wearing long-sleeved shirts all the time lately?” I asked as Saint’s shadow seemed to grow around Kyan as he seethed.

“Maybe,” Kyan said, tossing me a grin. “I wanted it to heal up before the big reveal. Do you like it? I think the depth of meaning to it really makes it special.”

“No she doesn’t fucking like it. Who could like that? It’s hideous!” Saint snarled. “You will have it removed just as soon as this lockdown is lifted.”

Kyan blew out a derisive breath. “Make me.”

“Oh I will, I assure you of that.” Saint smiled vindictively and I could almost hear the cogs in his brain working as he figured out what leverage he could come up with to make Kyan do what he wanted.

“Has everyone got their results?” Monroe called to the room.

“Shit, I lost count,” I muttered.

"I have complied each of your results," Saint said, holding up his phone.

“Of course you did,” Kyan laughed through his heavy breathing.

How the hell did he manage that??

Monroe wrote out a chart on the whiteboard and everyone added up their numbers to work out which bracket they fell in. I beamed when Saint announced that me, Kyan and Blake were top of the class above several members of the football team.

"Congratulations," Saint said to me, his eyes glinting. "You have earned a night with your friend. You can be with her from seven until ten tonight."

“How nice of you,” Mila said under breath, not loud enough for him to hear. I knew she’d never understand this, but really I was just playing Saint at his own game. And I’d freaking won.

I grinned, not even giving a shit that he was designating times for me. That was just how Saint worked.

Monroe didn’t let up all lesson, forcing us to work on whichever exercises we found hardest until we were all dripping with sweat. As mine had been burpees, I especially wanted to punch him in the dick. But as the endorphins kicked in on my way out, I guessed I could forgive him.

After class, we headed out of the hall and Blake slung his sweaty arm around me, pressing a hot kiss to my temple. He smelled of man and heat and deliciousness. I turned toward him, fisting a hand in his hair and tip-toeing up to press my lips to his. He growled demandingly, grabbing my waist and hoisting me up so I wrapped my legs around him. I laughed as he made a show of pinning me against the wall and I heard Kyan cursing somewhere behind us and a bunch of girls gasping and muttering.

His hot, sweaty chest pressed to mine and I loved it, drawing him closer as he kissed me like I was the prom queen and he was the monster who’d stolen me away from my king. I was deep into that wild fantasy when Monroe barked at us.

“Rivers, Bowman! You have a fucking audience, please stop dry humping each other in the corridor.”

Blake put me down reluctantly, smirking at me and I looked to Monroe with my cheeks flushing. He had his arms folded and was playing a good game at looking like a stern teacher as he ordered the rest of the students into the changing room. But I could see beneath all of that to the jealousy swirling in his eyes and that got me even hotter. I was quietly conjuring up a scenario where he came over here, fighting for me, then Blake would fight back…Kyan would get all caveman about it too and they’d all just start brawling and-

"Meeting. Now." Saint strode toward the exit without explanation and we all frowned at each other as he left.

"I think we’ve been summoned,” Kyan said, his eyes still pinned to me like he was considering grabbing me and stealing me away from Blake. Or maybe he’d do whatever he was thinking about right here in front of him and Monroe. I shook my head to clear it, figuring it was probably best not to get into an orgy right now and turned, following Saint outside.

The others were right on my heels as we spilled through the double doors and Saint turned to us, taking out Mortez's phone. My heart skipped and jumped and all my heated ideas were forgotten as I focused on it.

“We’ve had a message,” Saint announced, showing it to us.

I read it with my pulse hammering.

52:

Who the fuck is this?

“Shit,”