TWENTY-SIX
Aliya
PRESENT
His words get caught in my mind as I stare at him blankly. He sits down next to me and gives me a prompting look.
When I said I wanted to be alone, I didn’t mean for him to evacuate the entire school building.
But maybe there is something deeper behind his impulsive action. Without the fire alarm, others would find me in this miserable state and possibly laugh at me. Once again telling me that I should die .
He’s helped me.
Immediately, I shake off such thoughts. Milan Shane is not capable of doing anything out of compassion. As soon as he gets what he wants, he’ll ignore me again or treat me with cold cruelty. And it’s so frustrating that it’s him who found me in such a precarious situation.
The note is still resting in my fist, scratching against my palm, but I don’t plan to show it to him. Without giving him an answer, I stand up to leave the school building. But he once again grips my wrist and pulls me down so quickly and forcefully that I yelp as I land on something warm.
On his lap.
I’m sitting on his lap.
My heart starts racing because I’m so close to him. Too close.
I feel every wave of his rock-hard thighs beneath me. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me in place, while his gaze briefly flickers over my lips before meeting my eyes again.
A strange mixture of excitement and rejection floods through me. I should be angry, I should push him away, but instead, I freeze and hold his dark gaze.
“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why you were crying.”
I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry. “I wasn’t crying.”
“You were crying.” The back of his hand brushes over my wet cheek. “Why?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business,” he insists.
The heat of his body, the closeness of his figure send a shiver through me.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” I whisper. His lips are mere inches from mine, and I can feel his breath on my skin. An irresistible pull draws me toward him, but at the same time, I resist.
“I can’t.”
I look away before I drown in the blackness of his eyes and lose myself.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet,” he claims.
A heavy silence hangs between us as I inwardly struggle against his closeness and his grip. But no matter what I do, I can’t escape him. He’s everywhere.
“Look at me.”
His command hits me like a blow, but I show no signs of turning my head back to him. His hand reaches for my jaw, forcing me to look back at him.
The intensity of his eyes almost overwhelms me. “Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing.” My words bounce off him.
“Aliya,” he speaks softly. “Answer me. Who the fuck made you cry?”
The sudden kind of affection he shows me after ignoring me before confuses me. And his gaze begins to crumble the wall I’ve built.
“Give me a name, and I’ll take care of it.”
A pang of resentment rises within me. Why does he act like he’s the knight in shining armor, ready to solve my problems, when he’s the main cause of them?
“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I bite my lower lip. “It’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it for me.”
I can’t tell him that his friend threatened me, that I’m being labeled the new slut at school, that my stepbrother is back, that his indifference has hurt me, and that I received a damn note wishing me dead.
As if he’s read my mind, his gaze falls on my clenched fist, and he furrows his eyebrows. “What do you have there?”
Instinctively, I try to hide my hand behind my back, but his hand is quicker and grabs my fist.
“What’s this?” he asks again, his voice sharper as he scrutinizes the note.
I tense up as his jaw tightens, and his eyes darken. I thought he would mock me when he saw why I was crying, even though that wasn’t the only reason. But he seems to take the written words seriously and understands my reaction.
Suddenly, he crumples the note and tosses it aside carelessly. “Who the fuck was that?”
“It was in my locker,” I reply.
“How long has this been going on?” His voice sounds controlled, but I can feel the suppressed anger in every word.
“Since the rumors started.”
“Did you cry because of that?”
I press my lips together. “Ms. Grambs doesn’t want to write me a recommendation anymore … because of the rumors.”
He sighs quietly. “I’ll fix it.”
A strange feeling flows through me at his words.
“Why are you doing this? I thought you wanted to destroy me.”
“I do,” he retorts boldly. “But I’m the only one who gets to ruin you. I’m not going to let fucking anyone else treat you like this.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“You ignored me,” I remind him of what happened in the school hallway this morning.
“Yes, I did,” he admits.
“Why?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Let’s just say I was having a bad day today.”
No apology. No remorse. No regrets.
I look at the bandages on my fingers while the question about Elena burns on my tongue. The fact that he is holding me tightly on his lap and keeping me in his focus strengthens my courage to ask him. I’m not sure if I even want to hear the answer.
“What is it?” he asks, as if sensing my inner conflict.
I struggle with myself before the words come out. “What’s going on between you and Raelyn’s sister?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, his grip around me seems to tighten, but he doesn’t answer.
Unease washes over me as I pick at the bandage without looking at him. “Is she your … girlfriend?”
The word girlfriend and Milan in the same context sounds completely unimaginable. But the way he’s been chasing after her makes me doubt.
“Are you perhaps jealous?”
My head snaps up and I stare at him, confused. “I’m not.”
His lips twist into a mischievous smirk. “Then why are you asking me that?”
“I was just …”
He’s right. Why am I even asking?
I nibble on my lower lip until I nearly bleed. He confuses me, messes with my head, plays with my mind.
“If Elena were my girlfriend …” He leans forward so that his warm breath brushes my neck. His hand travels torturously upwards and starts to unbutton my uniform shirt.
“W-what are you doing?”
“If she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t be fantasizing about dragging you into one of those empty classrooms, ripping that uniform off your body, sinking myself between your legs to slide my tongue inside you and taste you all over again.”
Heat rises in my cheeks as my whole body is flooded with an electrified wave.
“Milan …,” I start, but break off when his lips touch the exposed base of my chest.
“I wouldn’t be imagining you lying naked in my bed, screaming my name as I pound into you.”
His breath is warm against my skin and a shiver runs down my spine. The words play out visually in front of me, awakening a deep throbbing in my center.
“I wouldn’t be thinking about your swollen lips around my cock while you look at me with those watery green eyes.”
A tingle travels through my body all the way to between my legs, making me press them together.
“I wouldn’t be dreaming about kidnapping you and fucking you until you’re passed out and all mine .”
He will be the end of me. Consume me. Kill me.
“Don’t …” As he bites into the soft skin on my collarbone, I press my face into his shoulder. He sucks on me as he keeps me in place.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Do you want me to stop?” He licks over the spot he bit before and moves to the next spot.
No. I want to hear all his sick fantasies about me. But if he doesn’t stop, he’s going to burn me.
He’s like my own personal hell. Dangerous and hot. Doesn’t do me any good, but I can’t get away from it.
“I can’t stop thinking about the way you lay on the table and whimpered while you rode my fingers and tongue.”
I gasp as his teeth dig into my skin again and the pulsing between my legs intensifies.
Sweat drips down my forehead as my skin burns, as if it’s screaming to be touched by him. But I know I can’t let myself go here on the stairs, especially since the fire alarm stopped ringing a few minutes ago.
I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing, even though his closeness makes it almost impossible. The danger of being caught mixes with the intense arousal that his presence ignites in me.
His lips leave hot, burning trails and I fight the urge to pull him closer to me.
“Someone could see us,” I whisper, my voice trembling with suppressed lust.
He lifts his head, and his eyes sparkle with desire and defiance. My face must be dark red by now after all the things he’s said to me.
“So?”
“Please,” I murmur, pushing him slightly away. “Not here.”
Milan watches me for a moment, as if weighing whether to give in. Finally, he leans back and releases me from his grip. I try to button my shirt with trembling fingers before someone discovers us. His gaze lingers on my cleavage for a few seconds before he removes my hands and buttons my shirt for me instead.
His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to his dirty words and intense passion from just a minute ago.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, focusing on buttoning my shirt properly.
“What?” Does he really want to sleep with me now?
“I’m taking you with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” He helps me up and stands up himself.
“But I still have class,” I protest.
His hand clasps mine. “Not anymore.”
“No, I can’t skip English. Exams are coming up soon.”
“The first fifteen minutes are already up anyway. And by the time those idiots realize there’s no fire and go back to their classes, the rest of the period will be over too. You’re not missing anything.” He pulls me firmly toward the exit.
“But-”
“No buts. You’re coming with me, Little Curse,” he interrupts me with such finality that leaves me speechless.
Reluctantly, I follow him, although a part of me resists this decision.
It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, yet I can’t help but follow him. In his presence, the lines between right and wrong become blurred. And, as always, I choose the wrong path.