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Apparently this girl knows how to get under my skin in every way possible.

“And you’re...” I glance down at her bare legs between us.

“Waiting,” she finishes for me, with a bratty little head toss for emphasis.

This time I really do laugh, the sound low and laced with tension.

“Perfect Moira Murray, darling of the highland dance world, is stripping out of her Aboyne in a high school hallway.”

She glares at me. “I am not stripping. I’m just actually doing something about our skirts instead of complaining like you.”

“Oh, I’m the complainer?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re the one who keeps begging me to kiss you.”

I lean my face in closer to hers, and I see her pupils flare wide.

“I am not begging,” she hisses, even as some of the tremble comes back into her voice.

I place my lips right next to her ear. “Then you should be.”

Before she can come up with a reply, I yank my own skirt out of the way and press one of my legs between her thighs. She’s not quick enough to hide her gasp. Her legs flex around me, and I reach for one of her hands to pin it against the lockers behind her.

I brush the edge of her ear with my mouth before kissing the soft skin just behind it. She shivers.

“Is this okay?” I ask, pulling back far enough to glance at her face.

She has her eyes squeezed shut. She bobs her head in a few adorably enthusiastic nods and whispers, “Yes.”

I start kissing her neck again.

“So,” I murmur against her skin, “you were about to start begging?”

She tightens her fingers around my hand, which is still pinning hers to the lockers. “You wish.”

I really do wish, but I’m not about to tell her that.

Instead, I use my other hand to get a grip on one of those gorgeous, gorgeous thighs and hitch it up over my hip. Her breath catches as we press even harder against each other.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” I ask, just before I let my teeth graze her throat.

She arches her neck for me, but she makes a frustrated little grunt instead of answering.

“Just tell me to kiss you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not letting you win that easy, Kenzie.”

“Good.” I give up on her neck and trail my nose up her cheek so I can speak in her ear again. “Because to be honest, Moira, I’ve always kinda liked the way you make me work for it.”

Her hips thrust against mine as she moves her free hand to the small of my back, pressing hard, and she almost gets the better of me.

I need another taste.

I’m trying to come up with another way to mess with her when a loud plop sound catches us both off guard.

I freeze. “What was that?”

Moira giggles. “Uh, I think my Croc just fell off.”

She lowers her leg from my waist to get her balance back, and I shift to see she’s right; her white foam shoe is sitting on the hallway’s tiled floor behind us.