Page 10 of Poison Touch

She is hot as fuck, and I have a thousand ideas of what I want to do with her, none of which I want anyone in this hallway to witness. “Kindly let her know who’s in charge,” I answer.

He huffs out a laugh. “Good luck with that, bro. That chick right there…” He points down the hall to the girl with long black hair. Her back is to us, but there’s no mistaking that it’s Ninja with her high socks and black boots. “She just might be your ultimate match.”

Levi, Gunner’s brother, says, “Whatever the fuck happens, I want a front-row seat.” He rubs his hands together as if he’s getting ready for a showdown.

“I don’t even know this girl, and I already like her,” Estelle, Levi’s girlfriend, says.

As expected, Kade says nothing. His silence alone says all I need to know. If I have my way, I’ll say my peace, the little ninja will nod in agreement, and we’ll both go our separate ways. But something tells me dealing with this firecracker won’t be that easy.

The crowd in the hall parts as we approach the little ninja. When we’re halfway to our target, I call out to her. She slows but doesn’t turn around until the daughter of Monarch’s chancellor looks over her shoulder and says something to her. Only then does she stop and unhurriedly turn in our direction. Seeing us come toward her, she crosses her arms over her chest. Usually, that’s a defensive posture, but she uses the gesture to signify pure boredom.

The blue-haired girl, Eden, I think her name is, tucks herself in behind the new girl. At least someone has their fucking head on straight.

Ninja blows out a small bubble, pops it, then sucks the thin layer of gum back into her mouth. She’s the poster child for bad schoolgirls, especially in Monarch’s uniform. She wears the standard white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal just enough skin to have my gaze traveling down the line of her delicate throat to the tight knot of the necktie lying over the inviting crease of perfect breasts. My eyes continue to drag down the length of her body over the plaid short skirt to several inches of her smooth, slightly parted thighs, then black over-the-knee socks with chunky boots.

I’ve seen hundreds of girls in that uniform, and I’ve never seen any of them make the uniform look as hot as she does.

The closer I move in on Monarch’s new troublemaker, the more I think I may have made a mistake I can’t back out of. She sets her sights on me and juts her full, pouty lips. As I closethe distance between us, the shuffling and murmurs of everyone around us fall away. It’s only her and me.

I stop a few inches from her. She doesn’t step back but holds her ground. Her sweet, minty breath tickles my nose. My senses run wild, imagining that mouth, how it tastes and all of its capabilities. Fuck. Who am I kidding? I want to know how she tastes everywhere.

Tilting her head slightly to the left and smirking, she makes it clear she doesn’t miss how my gaze is glued to her lips. There’s a hint of humor in those blue eyes, as if she gets off on encounters like this. When the corner of her mouth lifts a fraction, the slight shift is her tell. This dark-haired beauty clearly enjoys the challenge of being called out front and center to defend. I wonder if she knows what she’s giving away.

I almost run with it, letting her know she’s not as slick as she thinks before I notice her eyes… and fuck me to the corner of the earth. Those clear oceans of bright blue are as striking and unyielding as the first time I saw them. My heart stammers and then picks up its pace. The change is sudden and subtle to the naked eye. But as close as our bodies are, I hope she doesn’t notice.

In the parking lot, I was paying more attention to the overall scene of the hot new girl on the badass motorcycle than the details.

Now that I’m standing directly in front of her, the realization of who she is hits me like a meteor falling right out of the fucking sky, and it’s like I’m staring at a fucking ghost.

4

KINSLEY

Eden slips in behind me.“Oh, shit. It’s Edge.”

Edge? What kind of name is that?

Front and center, Edge must be the guy everyone either fears or fawns over. His rolled sleeves expose tanned, defined forearms. The first button of his white dress shirt is unfastened, offering only a hint of what’s underneath. Otherwise known as a trap, guiding you in only to devour you in one swift go.

None of that is what sets my core aflame. For some unknown and morbid reason, it’s the black Monarch necktie wrapped around his fist. My imagination morphs into dirty thoughts before the vehement look on his face comes into focus, as though he’s picturing how to use that same tie as a noose to strangle me.

The rest of his friends have the same expression. Intimidation bleeds from every one of them as they glide through the now-divided hall. Everyone stares at the scene before them like they’re the four horsemen riding into town to burn it to the ground. Several people take out their phones. What do they think is going to happen—a sacrifice right here in the hall for stealing a parking spot? I don’t have the chance to ask Eden about her weird, nervous reaction before Jeep guyfills my personal space. The combination of cinnamon and weed lingers in the small space between us.

From years of training to fight with guys like him, backing down or away isn’t an option, even when the toe of his boot bumps the tip of mine. I’ve been confronted by more than my share of guys who think they’re tougher than me on the mat and off, and this guy is no different. The only difference here is that the mat is a place of safety. Not to say I haven’t had my share of broken bones, but an official oversees those encounters. Here, I get the feeling the referee and these guys are one and the same.

I don’t say anything. Instead, I meet his steely gray eyes. He’s quiet for longer than necessary since he’s the one calling me out for some stupid reason.

When the silence remains for far too long, I finally ask, “What? Did you forget why you decided to invade my personal bubble?” My voice comes out low and sounds more uncertain than I’d like.

I also don’t like the fact that I have to look up at him. I feel small in my five-seven frame compared to his defined muscular build and standing at six-two or taller.

He narrows his eyes. After a long moment of him staring at me, a grin slowly thins his full lips, a sign of control, his way of letting me know who’s in charge. He’s obviously the one who calls the shots around here, so I assume he’s not used to being questioned.

He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. I wonder if he’s the one who killed my father. His build is the same as Python’s, but then again, all four of the guys standing in front of me have almost the same muscular body—bodies that no doubt get their fair share of whatever they desire.

When he still says nothing, I turn to leave. He reaches out and grips my upper arm before I turn entirely away. I don’t demand or even ask him to release me. This is his way of pissingon what’s his, this school and his measly parking spot.By the way the entire campus seems to bow down to these fuckers, I need the spotlight off me if I’m to get what I came here for, so I give him this single moment of power over me. I’ll let him believe he’s the one taking it, and I’m not handing it over on a silver platter.

The strands of hair fall again along his face as he tilts his head to the side. There’s a slight tick to his smooth, square jawline. Fuck if he’s not a gorgeous specimen. Why are the assholes always hot? He could make almost any girl drop to her knees. The perfect hair, his tall, muscular body, penetrating smoke-gray eyes framed with thick lashes, lips I can only imagine being well-versed in the art of kissing and other things, and above all, a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. He has all of the ingredients of what a bad boy symbolizes—the exact kind of guy parents never want to see their little girl bring home.