The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  As he buries himself inside me to the hilt, the expression on his face changes in a way that makes me positive he feels it too.

  “Fuck. Yes, Low,” he murmurs, rocking his hips against mine as I rise up and sink back down, finding a rhythm.

  One of his hands splays across my back, keeping me steady as I move, and the other slips up under my sweater, pushing the cup of my bra down so he can roll my nipple between his fingers. Shocks of sensation zap through me, and I press my chest into his hand, demanding more.

  The room is quiet and still, except for the muffled sounds of our breaths and voices as we tease each other, push each other, worship each other. We’ve barely taken off any clothes, and even though I miss the feeling of his warm skin pressed flush against mine, there’s something almost more intimate about the fact that we’re only connected in one place, in the place where he’s filling me.

  The rough fabric of his jeans rubs against my thighs as I ride him, a delicious contrast to the smooth skin of his cock gliding in and out of me.

  We’re not quite fucking and we’re not quite making love.

  We’re… reuniting.

  My clit rubs against Linc’s pelvis every time I impale myself fully on his length, and I chase the tingling pleasure building inside me, shamelessly using his body to get myself off. When I come, I grind hard against him, burying my face in the crook of his neck and circling my hips over and over.

  “Oh God. Lincoln!”

  I’m clenching him tight, my inner walls squeezing and contracting around him, making him feel thicker than ever inside me. As my movements slow, he grunts and grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me in place. He thrusts upward in short, sharp movements, using my body like I just used his.

  Now we’re fucking, hard and fast.

  Then a stream of curses falls from his lips, and I feel his cock swell inside me, jerking rhythmically as his cum floods me.

  He bands his arms around my back and presses his lips to my hair, breathing roughly. His hips are still pressing up into mine in little pulses, as if he’s not quite ready to stop fucking me yet, even though he just came.

  “Just for the record,” I breathe against his skin, “I don’t do that with strangers.”

  He chuckles, and I feel the vibrations in my own chest. “I should hope not.”

  I pull back a little to look at him, making no move to climb off him yet. “So we’re good?”

  “We’re good.” He tucks my slightly disheveled hair behind my ear. “No more secrets. What I know, you’ll know.”

  A smile tugs at my lips, and I gaze down at his face, trying to connect the boy in front of me to the one who stared at me so impassively the night my mom was arrested.

  He’s got a solid poker face. He’s a good fucking liar, and that still scares me a little.

  But what Dax and Chase told me makes sense. And as much as I still want to cling to my anger, I know it’s possible the guys saved my life with what they did. Saved my mom’s life.

  “You’re important to me, Low.” The dark-haired boy licks his lips and his amber eyes darken, as if he can still taste me on his skin. Then he shakes his head, amending his statement. “You’re important to all of us. We won’t let you deal with this shit alone.”

  His words and tone, the way he says “all of us”, does something strange to my heart, and my core clenches hard around him, making him groan and tighten his grip on my ass. Thoughts of the other three kings of Linwood—of the way they look at me, talk to me, and touch me—filter through my head, sending a cascade of emotions through me.

  “No more secrets, right?” I murmur, catching Linc’s gaze.

  He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes. “Right.”

  “Then can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Have the four of you ever… shared?”

  The movement of his pelvis stops for a second, and his face freezes. Then his lips curl upward slightly as hunger and amusement gleam in his eyes. “Shared what?”

  “You know what, you asshole.” I pinch his nipple through his shirt.

  His cock hasn’t softened at all. He’s still hard as steel inside me, and when he starts thrusting into me again, I move against him, fucking him even as I keep my gaze glued to his face, waiting for an answer.

  “Dax and Chase share girls all the time. Have since the beginning, I think.” He’s watching me intently, watching the effect his words have on me as we move in sync. “And River and I have shared before. It can be hot as fuck.”

  I bite my bottom lip, trying not to show how turned on I am by that. I don’t even know quite why I asked the question, but now all I can picture are a pair of intense blue-gray eyes and twin sets of blue and green ones alongside Lincoln’s, all focused on me.

  Hands all over my body.

  Lips on every inch of my skin.

  My movements against Linc become harder and more desperate, and I squeeze around him so tight he lets out another grunt.

  “But never—all four of you?” I mutter, my breath coming faster as another orgasm builds deep inside me.

  “Not yet.” His voice is a rasp, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass as he impales me so deeply I swear I can feel him everywhere. “We hadn’t found anyone worth sharing.”

  Hadn’t. Not haven’t.

  Past tense. Not present.

  Holy fuck.

  Oh, fuck.

  I can’t stop it. I can’t fight it. I can’t hold it off any longer.

  Another orgasm tears through my body, so intense and prolonged my vision actually goes a little fuzzy around the edges. I let out a sobbing cry, and Lincoln palms the back of my head, smashing his lips against mine and devouring the sound as he pulses inside me. I feel liquid seep out from the place where we’re connected, sliding down my thighs as I shake in his arms.

  We collapse against each other, our bodies spent and exhausted, and I rest my head on his shoulder as I try to catch my breath.

  I don’t ask him for any more secrets. In fact, we don’t speak for a long time.

  But my mind keeps replaying his words over and over, and images of things I never even knew I might want keep flitting through my head.

  Maybe it was just dirty talk, the kind of thing you say in the middle of sex that doesn’t really mean anything. But it didn’t feel like it. We may have been fucking while we talked, but that doesn’t make the conversation we just had any less real.

  I asked a question.

  And he answered it.

  7

  I’ve never really given a lot of thought to the families of accused murderers. The news reports always focus on the murderer themselves, or the victim, so I never quite considered how much something like this totally upends the life of everyone connected to the accused.

  My mom is innocent.

  I fucking know it, and I’d know it even if I hadn’t seen the actual murderer with my own two eyes.

  But no one at my school knows that, and most of them probably wouldn’t even care to learn the actual truth. With my mom in jail and me walking the halls, they’ve got everything they could possibly need right in front of them.

  They’ve got an explanation for Iris’s death—some way to process the senseless brutality of life and how it can be stolen away so quickly.

  And they have someone to direct their anger toward.

  Iris was a bitch to me, but she was popular at this school, and absence makes the heart grow infinitely fonder. Even people who didn’t like her all that much when she was alive hate me now, just for being the daughter of the woman who supposedly killed her.

  On Monday, I walk into the girls’ bathroom on the second floor only to find writing all over the walls and mirrors. Slurs and insults about both me and my mom are spelled out in dripping red paint.

  It’s stupid. It’s nothing—just words.

  But my heart lurches in my chest anyway, and I rush out of the bathroom, shaking with shock and rage. I f
ind another bathroom on the far side of the building, but when I push the door open, slashes of red paint scream at me from the walls in here too.

  Whoever did this is a fucking overachiever. They hit every ladies’ room in the school, and because there are no security cameras in the bathrooms, the school admins can’t even find and punish whoever it is.

  Maybe that’s why Principal Osterhaut goes so hard on the girl who shoves me into a bank of lockers later that day—to make an example of her. I find out on Tuesday that the girl was suspended for the rest of the week, and I notice flyers go up on several bulletin boards around the school detailing what the punishment will be for harassment and bullying.

  I notice there’s nothing on the flyers asking students to just be decent fucking human beings. Instead, it’s all about what will happen to them if they break the rules, what the punishment will be, up to and including expulsion.

  And what do you know? It works.

  The janitors clean up the bathrooms by Tuesday afternoon, and by Wednesday, the worst of the bullying has stopped. Which is a relief, because if it went on any longer, Lincoln, River, Dax, and Chase were definitely gonna get themselves expelled trying to go after each of my attackers.

  That doesn’t mean school becomes pleasant though. I’m still buried under a mountain of homework, still obsessing over how to find the man in black, and still hated by half the student population. And just because they’re not actively targeting me doesn’t mean they’ve welcomed me back into their good graces with open arms.

  It’s like someone turned the thermostat in the entire school down to negative fifty.

  I’ve started riding to and from campus with Linc again, and the kings meet me in the hall between classes when they can. There are at least four people at this school who don’t hate me, but there are way, way more than that who do.

  It’s draining in a way I wouldn’t have expected.

  By Friday, I can’t take it anymore. I’m dying for the fucking weekend to get here already, and I just need some time alone, so I skip lunch and head to my favorite spot under the bleachers.

  It never did snow, but it’s gray and cold today, with a wind that seems to change direction every few minutes so I can never quite brace myself against it.

  I slip under the scaffolding of the bleachers and drop my backpack on the ground before grabbing a seat. I dig into the side pocket of my bag for the half-smoked joint in a little plastic baggie, but before I can light it, movement in my periphery makes me turn my head.

  Dax and Chase grin at me, heads ducked to peer under the metal structure.

  “Jesus.” I shake my head, but a smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. “Do you guys have a tripwire set up on the path over here or something? How the fuck do you always know when I’m out here?”

  “Sorry, Low. Can’t say.” Chase chuckles, maneuvering his wide shoulders through the obstacle course of metal bars as he makes his way toward me. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

  “Oh, you’re a magician now?”

  “Are you impressed?”

  “By you? Always.”

  I smirk and lean back, sparking my lighter and taking a deep drag from the joint as the cherry glows red-orange.

  His gaze drops to my lips as I finish inhaling, and he watches me press them together for a long beat before I form a soft O with my mouth, releasing the smoke. There’s a hungry look on his face, and I can’t tell if it’s because he wants the joint or something else.

  Trying to banish the images that spring to my mind at that thought, I offer him the small rolled cigarette as Dax settles in next to his brother.

  “You know you’re gonna have to find another place to go once winter really hits though, right?” Dax adds, taking the joint when Chase passes it. “I don’t know what it’s like in Arizona, but it gets fucking cold here. Plus, the maintenance crews only snowblow the sidewalks and parking lot. They never touch the athletic fields, much less under the bleachers.”

  I groan. “Can’t I just build an igloo out here or something?”

  A smile tilts his lips, and his green eyes glint as he leans forward to offer me back the joint. “Sure. That’ll work.”

  Our fingertips brush as I take it, and like always, I’m conscious of every little touch. Maybe he is too, because it takes us a lot longer to make the hand-off than it should, as if we’re both lingering in the moment.

  “So what made you want to hide out here today?” Chase asks, his voice lower than before, less teasing.

  I glance over at him. “I’m not hidi—”

  Before I can even finish my sentence, his eyebrows shoot up, calling bullshit on me without words.

  My cheeks puff out as I release a breath. “Fine. I’m hiding.”

  “From what?”

  I take a long drag from the joint before answering. It’s almost gone, so I’m careful when I hand it over to Chase, our fingertips brushing softly too.

  “I don’t know. People. Everything.”

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I hesitate, glancing back and forth between the two boys, the two almost-mirror-images. I’m not sure quite when it happened, but somewhere along the line, this cramped spot under the bleachers became our little confessional. It’s more than just my haven, it’s a place where all three of us let our guards down.

  Lincoln and River know I sneak out here, but the ones who always come for me, who always meet me here, are Dax and Chase.

  I kind of like it.

  It’s ours.

  “Yeah.” Dax nods, and even though his voice is teasing, there’s sympathy in his eyes. “People and everything are the worst.”

  “Anyone whose asses we need to kick?” Chase throws in, and he’s not teasing at all. I’m pretty sure if I named a name, he and Dax would disappear in a heartbeat, and whoever’s name I’d uttered would be really fucking sorry.

  “No.” I shake my head, sucking in a lungful of cold air. It’s chilly enough that our breath puffs out of our mouths like smoke, even though Dax just finished off the joint. “I just hate this. I hate it so fucking much. Everyone in that building thinks my mom is a murderer. Even the ones who don’t hate me for it still think she did it.”

  Dax glances back toward the school, his hands tightening into fists, like maybe he’ll go on a rampage even without me naming names. I try to gather my unraveling emotions back around me, but it’s getting harder and harder to do that these days.

  “I know… I know you bought us time. If whoever killed Iris thinks no one’s looking for him, he won’t come after us or try to stop us. But—” My jaw clenches. “How much time will we need? If my mom goes to trial—if she gets convicted—while I’m still looking for clues… I mean, Jesus, who am I, Sherlock fucking Holmes? What made me think I can do this?”

  “You’re not gonna have to do it alone, Low,” Chase promises. “We’ll help. You know that, right?”

  They’ve already been helping, combing through the long list we made last weekend and trying to find any connections between the men on that list and Iris.

  “I know.” I thread my fingers through my hair, pressing at the sides of my head like it’ll help keep my thoughts contained. “I just can’t lose her. She’s my mom. She’s my… my best friend.”

  Two hands reach out to rest on my knees, and this is becoming way too familiar—the feeling of these two boys comforting me.

  We sit in silence for a few moments, and they let me pull myself together, blinking back tears and forcing my shoulders to relax. When I’m a little less close to freaking out, Chase cocks his head, squinting at me.

  “How old is your mom, anyway?”

  My eyebrows shoot up, and I glance at him sharply. “You better not be about to call her a MILF. Osterhaut can expel me for it if he wants, but I’ll kick your ass.”

  His eyes widen. He makes a choked noise and then belts out a laugh, still half-coughing. “What? Jesus, no. I wasn’t gonna call her a MILF. That would be extremely fucking
disturbing, considering I’ve sort of got a thing for her daughter.”

  The copper-haired boy shakes his head, still chuckling, as I blink at him. He doesn’t seem to realize what he just said, or maybe he thinks it’s no big deal—or maybe he thinks I already know.

  But although my entire body reacted to his statement, my nerves singing like live wires, my heart pounding out an uneven rhythm, he and Dax both seem perfectly relaxed.

  His blue eyes dance with amusement as he rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “It was just the thing you said about being best friends with her. I can see that. I thought maybe it was because she was young for being a mom.”

  “Oh.” I shake my head, dragging my attention back to the conversation with extreme effort. “Yeah, she is. I think that is part of it. My dad left a little while after I was born, so it’s always been just the two of us. And I went through che—I mean, we went through some tough times when I was little. She did so much for me. We’ve always been each other’s… everything.”

  I glance up, wondering if either of the boys caught my stutter before I corrected myself. None of the kings of Linwood know about my leukemia, not even Linc. I don’t quite know why I haven’t mentioned it yet, only that it’s something I usually keep private, that I don’t broadcast to strangers.

  But as Lincoln pointed out, we’re not fucking strangers anymore.

  Now it’s more that I just don’t know how to talk about it, when to mention it, or what to say that doesn’t make me sound like I’m asking for pity.

  “That’s cool.” Dax nods, looking genuinely impressed. Maybe even a little envious. “That you have that. That you’re so close.”

  My brows pull together. The chill in the air is seeping through my coat into my bones, and I know it’s because I’m a sissy about cold after living in Arizona my whole life, but I’m shivering. I don’t want to go inside yet though. I don’t want to leave this little bubble Dax and Chase and I have created.

  “You guys aren’t close with your parents?”