Page 46 of Filthy Little Pretties

I stand still, staring at Caroline, feeling so much rage. Nobody will ever treat Donovan poorly. Ever. It’s as if she hears my thoughts before I can say them as she speaks.

“I’m fine.” Her hand brushes my cheek. “I’m totally fine. They’re just tits, remember. The whole coast of Spain has seen them.” Her lips spread into a grin. “You can put me down now.”

“No.”

I don’t know why I say no, but it’s not an option. Her body, in my arms—it’s what I need right now.

“Okay then, carry me the whole way up.”

She wraps her arms around me, smothering me with herself, and it’s then that my body starts to calm down. I inhale her as we walk through the living room and up the stairs, staying that way down the hall to the last bedroom before I finally put her to her feet.

“Better now?”

“Yeah. I’ll never let anyone—”

She covers my mouth with her finger. “I know. Thank you. It’s what best friends do.”

I don’t want to be your friend.

Donovan pushes the door open, and I follow her in silently, the stinging in my knuckles beginning to set in past the adrenaline. She points to the bed as she begins looking around.

“Go sit. I’ll find a first aid kit.”

“Top of the medicine cabinet.”

She looks at me, surprised that I know, but I lie back on the bed offering, “This is always my room when we come up.”

“Gotcha,” she answers from the bathroom, shutting the door for a moment before walking back out with a bottle of peroxide, cotton balls, and some Band-Aids. She’s wearing my T-shirt. “Come on, bruiser, sit up.”

I comply and stare at her as she kneels down in front of me, her golden hair catching the light. She slowly tips the bottle onto some cotton balls before bringing it back to the abrasions on my knuckles. The cool sting has me sucking in a breath, but all I get are her ocean eyes glancing up at me and a grin.

Something about the moment brings back an old memory, and I smirk. “Do you remember the last time you had to patch me up?”

Donovan shakes her head before blotting again and pursing her lips to gently blow on my knuckle.

“We were eleven, and Liam’s cousin threw you in the lake. Remember?”

The minute she cried, I was ready to go to war. I wanted to kill Liam’s cousin for his shitty stunt.

Donovan sits back on her haunches, peeling the paper from the Band-Aids.

“Oh my God, yes. He was such a little asshole…what was his name? Aaron! But you punched him in the stomach.”

A smile grows over my face, watching how her face lights up when she speaks. Leaning closer to me, she carefully puts the first Band-Aid on, smiling up as she finishes.

The lines between my eyes crease as I remember the worst part. “Then he punched me back, harder, considering he was two years older.”

She places the last Band-Aid on and smooths it over carefully. Her hands are like silk against mine, and her lashes look like they’re dusting her cheeks from this angle.

“You’re always fearless,” she says, staring at my hands, running her finger gingerly over the bandage.

“Only for you.” Her eyes lift to mine when I say it, but I quickly add, “Do you remember what you did?”

Donovan shakes her head, but I smile because she’s lying. “You kissed my lip, the one he split, to make it better. So technically,Iwas your first kiss. Make sure you add that the next time someone asks you about your firsts.”

She giggles quietly, knowing I’m talking about Liam asking her that exact question in the library the other day. Pushing off my lap, she stands and brings my hands up to her mouth. “Deal, but this time it’s your knuckles, so this’ll have to do.”

Warm lips press against my knuckles, the way someone would kiss a king’s hand. It’s reverent and so fucking intimate, but this girl has all the power, and she knows it. I rise off the bed and put my hand in her hair. “Stay with me?”