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Play With Me: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 1)(17)

By:Rebel Hart


“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”

“Why?”

“You mean, other than the fact that you’re the biggest asshole at our school?”

I sighed. “Don’t be like that, Rae.”

“Be like what?”

“So moody.”

She leered. “I’m not moody.”

“So that bubbling rage in your eye is a reaction to something else? Maybe the pollen? Possibly the fleas infesting the sandbox over there? Did you get bit by a raccoon? I hear the Riverbend raccoons have rabies.”

She scoffed and shook her head. But soon, that scoff turned to a giggle. Which morphed into laughter that tilted her head off to the side. The beautiful sound wrapped around us, and I couldn't help but smile. Her arms fell away from her chest and she placed her face in her hands, shaking her head as more laughter fell from her lips.

“What is even happening, Clint?”

I smiled. “You’re growing weak for me. Just like all girls do.”

Her laughter paused. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“If I'm not going to be moody, then you’re not going to be a pompous windbag manwhore.”

My eyebrows rose. “How long have you had that one tucked away?”

“Not as long as you’d think. I’m quick-witted in some moments.”

“I see that.”

She looked over at me and her eyes fell to my lips. My smile made her smile, and for the first time I saw her eyes ignite. With the moon above reflecting in her amber pools, it reminded me of the strength of a tree. The rungs of a redwood covered in sappy bark, cloaked in the effervescent darkness California had to offer. I found myself swimming in them. Falling into them and never wanting to return.

The writer in me wanted to pen a poem devoted to the swirling rungs of her brown eyes.

Rae cleared her throat. “What are you looking at?”

I cocked my head. “You.”

“What about me?”

“I like this side of you.”

She blushed. “Oh, come on. Cut the shit and get to the punch line.”

“What punch line?”

“Whatever it is that made you come over and sit down on this bench.”

“Is it really so hard to imagine that you’re the reason I felt compelled to sit down?”

She snickered. “Felt compelled? Who are you again?”

I turned my body toward her. “I’m the Clint you’ve always seen.”

“I’ve never seen this side of you.”

“Do you want to see more?”

My hand gravitated to her cheek and I cupped her soft skin. My thumb brushed against it as her eyes searched mine. Wild, and curious, and a bit mysterious. And as a grin settled across my face, she smiled up at me. I felt her nod against my hand before she nuzzled my palm. I felt myself being pulled into her atmospheric orbit. Stanzas of poems not yet penned regarding her beauty rushed through my mind. I felt her face getting closer as her body heat encompassed me. And when our lips touched, fireworks went off in my mind.

This was the kind of girl wars were started over.

My elbows tingled. My toes curled. I felt electricity sizzle down my spine. Her tongue pressed against my lips and I was all too eager to let her inside. All too eager to wrap her up in my arms. I pulled her close, heaving her into my lap, and she straddled me with effortless perfection. An entire epic poem spilled forth in my mind, encompassing the whole of Rae. From the soft touch of her fingertips against my jaw to the searing heat of her lips against my own.

Even the way her body fell against me constituted its own story of praise.

I pulled back softly. “Ever been on a bike?”

Rae shook her head. “No. I haven’t.”

“Want to ride on one?”

When she didn’t answer me, I stood up. I picked her up in my arms with ease as she squealed and clung to me. I set her down on her feet, taking her hand and tugging her toward my motorcycle. She resisted at first. But then she gave way to me. Gave way to my silent command as we headed for our escape.

“Come on. I’ll take you for a ride,” I said.

And without a second thought, I handed off my helmet to her.





15





Raelynn





Clinging to Clint around his waist as we zoomed through the streets of our hometown wasn’t something I ever thought I’d be doing. And yet, I found myself holding tighter to him with every passing mile. He took the long way around town, pointing out toward the ocean and slowing down so I could gawk at it. We stopped at a bakery that was in its closing hour and he picked us up some pastries at half price. We even stopped to get me one last green tea, while he chugged back a black coffee.

It was a side of him I would have never imagined existed in my wildest dreams.

I stopped questioning where we were going after a while. But once we pulled into the driveway of his home, I grew nervous. What the hell were we doing back here? I figured he’d take me home. Or back to the park. Or drop me off at the high school.

“Uh, Clint?”

He turned off his bike. “What?”

I slipped the helmet off. “What are we doing at your house?”

He put his kickstand down. “Well, you said you didn’t wanna go home. But everything else around here’s closed. We got these pastries. Figured you’d wanna go somewhere, drink something, and eat.”

“So we’re at your house? Where your father is right now?”

“Nah. Dad goes to the casino to blow off steam after we fight. He won’t be back until tomorrow night at the earliest.”

“And your stepmom?”

He scoffed. “She’s always at his side. If he’s not here, she’s not either.”

He helped me off the bike, catching me as I stumbled. I felt myself blushing underneath the strength of his arms, but I tried not to show it. I tried not to give in to it. This was madness. This was Clint Clarke, for fuck’s sake. The boy that had swung on Michael this morning! There was no way the butterflies in my gut were for him. There was no way on God’s green earth I felt the way I did because of him.

And yet, when he took my hand to lead me inside, I felt my stomach jump.

Turn around. Go home while you still can.

I watched Clint type in a password on a keypad that opened the garage. And with the bag of pastries in one hand, he led me straight through a door and into his kitchen. I gawked as I walked inside, too. His kitchen alone was bigger than Allison’s entire fucking living room. Holy shit, if I thought Allison’s and Michael’s parents had massive homes, then I’d really been an ignorant little girl.

Because Clint’s father didn’t own a home.

He owned a damn mansion.

“You want the cinnamon or cheese danish?” Clint’s voice pierced my shock.

“Um, cheese.”

He nodded. “Cinnamon for me, then. Which is great, because I’m a cinnamon fanatic.”

“Good to know.”

“What do you want to drink?”

I didn’t hear his question. I kept scanning the room with my eyes, wondering how big this place was.

“Rae.”

I heard the chuckle in his voice and my eyes whipped over to his.

“What’s up?”

He grinned. “Wanna see the rest of the house?”

I nodded with delight and he dropped the pastries. He scooped my hand into his, and together we started through the house. He showed me the living room, with a massive projection screen on an entire wall. He showed me something called a sitting room, which was literally just a room with a bar and some chairs. He took me into a library. A legitimate library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined every square inch of wall in the damn place.

Then he led me upstairs. To the middle of the three levels the house had.

“Who the hell needs this much house?”

Clint chuckled. “Dad, apparently. He bought this place before Mom even got pregnant with me. Only three people live here, but it’s got six bedrooms. And all of them have their own bathrooms.”

I scoffed. “Seems a bit like overkill.”

He shrugged. “That’s my father for you. Here, this is my room.”

He reached through a doorway and turned on the light. And when his bedroom came into view, I stopped in my tracks. It was the size of mine and my mother’s put together. And then some. I slowly walked into the room, taking in the blackout curtains over his windows. The beautiful wooden frame of his massive king-size bed. The carpet underneath my feet made me feel as if I were walking on memory foam pillows.

And yet, there was such a sinister presence within all of it.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

I slowly turned around, watching as Clint closed the door behind him.

“For what?”

I shook my head. “For… everything, I guess.”

He nodded. “It’s fine. I don’t make it easy for people to see me.”

I snickered. “This is the part where you apologize, too.”

“I’m getting there.”

He made his way to me. I felt his hands against my waist, and I didn’t hate it. His green eyes sparkled as they danced with mine, and I felt him peering into my soul. His black hair fell into his face, prompting me to raise my fingertips in order to brush it away. Our skin touched. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. And even though I wanted to pull away from him, something inside me rooted me there. Grounded me, forcing me to stare into the eyes of a boy who understood me more than most.