Wanting What I Shouldn't

Chapter 8

I grabbed a paper towel and walked back over towards Kingston who stood by the counter of the bathroom. He was watching me, closely, intently.

Gently wetting the paper towel and walking back in front of him. I'm not worried about my wrist anymore, he knows it's there and I don't have to hide it in here, alone in the bathroom.

I stop at his feet.

Fuck him he's so tall.

It's hot.

Ugh.

Pushing up on my tippy toes just trying to reach his face. I can reach his eyebrow but no higher than that. Damn him. He's too tall.

He smirks down at me, in one swift movement, he grabs my hips and spins me around, setting me down on the beige sink countertop.

My eyes widen and I yelp surprised at his actions. He chuckles lightly as he pushes my legs apart and stands between them. My heart skipping a beat as his pointer finger starts to trace a slow pattern onto my left thigh. His finger grazing my skin every once in awhile.

Looking up at him, his eyes already looking down at me.

I wonder what he's thinking.

Probably that we're annoying.

Probably.

Gently I lift my right arm, dabbing at the cut on his forehead. Keeping my eyes trained on the bloody cut. I don't trust myself to look at him. So close to me, without trying to kiss him.

Damn him.

But it was worth it. Seeing his face morph into pure rage as the guy grabbed me and kissed me. The way he grabbed my neck once he caught a glimpse of my tongue reaching into the random guys mouth. The way he growled at the guy when he didn't listen. The way he made me grind his name into his hard dick after I purposely ground his brothers name into his lap instead. The way he grumbled dirty words into my ear, chuckling at my reactions. The way his warm hands slipped up my sweater.

God I love it when he touches me.

He makes my skin alight with fire, his voice causes goosebumps, his touch makes me shiver.

I gently dab the dried blood, trying to soak as much as I can with just water. I don't want to use a disinfectant on him, it stings.

"So..." I start, trying to break the silence, glancing down at him, who was already looking at me, quickly diverting my eyes to look back at his cut. "Uhm...how am I going to get to...your place?" My words were hesitant. I could tell that he was amused with my hesitation.

I know his lips curled into a smirk "You're gonna drive there bookworm.", nervousness flowing through my body. I try to swallow the nervousness but it does nothing.

   How am I going to tell him I don't have a car? Will he think less of me?

He gently pulls back from my hold, his brows furrowed. My arm was paused in my movements. Shit I must have stopped.

"What's wrong bookworm?"

"I...uhm...don't..." I mumbled out.

"Don't what?" He asked, his gray eyes staring at me.

"I don't have a car." I blurted, letting my head fall gently with a sigh. Staring down at my jeans and feeling worthless, taking my free hand and fidgeting with the string that was scattered around the rips in my jeans.

He's gonna walk out.

I'm not good enough for him.

What teenager doesn't have a car?