Ruthless Rose: A High School Bad Boy Romance (Rosehaven Academy Book 3)

by Leila James

  Hearing the toilet flush, I scramble under the covers to wait for him, not yet ready to hang out naked. I pull the sheet up to my chin.

  Micah strides back into the room, completely confident with his body—I’m not jealous at all—and I get the full-frontal view. My eyes widen as they are drawn to his partially erect cock. Holy shit. That was just inside me.

  He grabs his phone from his pants pocket, glancing at the time before setting it back down, and slips under the covers, tugging me close to his side. I rest my head on his chest, and as I get comfortable, I run my hand over his abs, tracing absentminded patterns over his skin.

  His lips brush through the hair at the top of my head as he whispers, “Sorry. I got a little distracted. I did have something else I wanted to ask you.”

  “Right. There was a first, but we didn’t let you get to the second.”

  “Daph, who are you going to homecoming with?”

  He’s playing it cool, but I’m pretty sure he already knows. I press my lips together. “Max.” I shrug. “I was going to back out until the whole homecoming queen nomination thing. I’m sure he’d rather go with someone else. Homecoming is ridiculous. How did I end up being nominated anyway? So dumb,” I say softly.

  “It’s not, actually. I’d vote for you any day of the week.”

  I snort a little. “I think you have to say that.”

  “I don’t have to say anything. You’re sexy and smart and kind. And so beautiful.” He reaches over and brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes.

  “Micah, we just had sex. That’s all I meant. You’re lying in my bed, holding me. You’re supposed to say you’d vote for me.”

  “Yes, we did. And yes I am.” He pauses. “And I still meant it. I’d vote for you, no question.” He skims his hand along my back. “If I go stag, you’ll still dance with me, right?”

  I lift my head, peeking up at him. “Yeah, of course. You’re really okay with me going with Max?”

  “Absolutely. He’s your friend. And I don’t want to put you through any more of Alora’s shit. It’s getting fucking ridiculous.”

  I take a deep breath and blow it out with a laugh. “Right. Okay. I guess I’ll go with Max, and we can do what we want once we’re there. Max won’t mind. I just need to figure out the dress.”

  He frowns. “What do you mean?”

  I drop my head to his chest again. “My parents don’t really have the money for anything extra right now. But I’ll figure it out. I’ve still got a few days.”

  His chest rises and falls steadily under my cheek. “Can I ask you something else?” He shifts a little, then cusses, realizing he’s at the edge of the bed.

  I chuckle internally, thinking about how funny it is that our first time was in my tiny twin bed. Amused, I smile.

  He clears his throat. “If you hadn’t needed it for your college applications, would you have tutored me?” He hesitates for a few seconds, and I squirm, uncomfortable with where this is going. “What I mean is, the other day when we were talking about you being my spirit girl, you mentioned needing to do it, rather than wanting to. And I know you were kind of railroaded into tutoring, but you did it anyway, even though they aren’t paying you to do it.” He runs his hand through this hair. “Fuck. I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

  My brows pinch and my cheeks flush pink as I meet his gaze. I don’t want to lie to him. “I admit I thought about getting out of it … at first. That was before I needed it for the appli—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a dick about it in the beginning.” He sighs, holding me closer. “I wanted to make sure you knew that I understand how important that stuff is to you now.”

  “Yeah. I’m getting there. I’ve,”—my voice cracks—“got this.”

  Micah pulls me more securely to him. “It’ll be fine. You’ll get the scholarship. You’re so fucking smart. How could they not give you one?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not always enough.”

  “Well, it should be. Like I said, you’ll be fine. You’re smart as fuck.”

  My lips brush his pec as I whisper, “Micah, what would happen if we didn’t bring up your grades? Do you think it would mean you’d lose out on offers to go play football somewhere?”

  He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I guess I’d just pick a random college if I’m not playing ball. I have a trust fund from my grandfather. Or maybe I’d just say fuck it. I don’t know. I haven’t discussed it with my parents. It’d probably really piss them off if I went and worked in a garage or something. I like to tinker with cars. Maybe I’ll ask Scarlett’s uncle for a job.” He clears his throat, tilting his head as if he’s considering it.

  I raise up on my elbow, looking into his eyes. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I thought you loved football? You’re so talented. You don’t want to play at the college level? I thought that was the whole point of me tutoring you—to help you do that.”

  He sighs deeply, but doesn’t answer me.

  That’s when it hits me. The idea that had begun to float around in the periphery of my mind had been right on the money. I prop myself up on my elbow, staring down into his eyes. “Tell me if I’m wrong. Everything you do—wild parties, messing up your grades, almost getting benched from the team—has all been a way to try to get them to pay attention to you.” I blink a few times and nudge him. I whisper, “You’re testing them. Proving to yourself that they don’t care.”

  He draws in a deep breath, his steely gaze connecting with mine. He’s in pain. And I don’t know how no one else realizes it.

  “Micah … I just—what the fuck? Do your parents not see what you’re doing? Or why? Do they not care at all?”

  “They don’t. No matter what I do, they don’t. My grades can slip, I can fuck up, or I can do everything right. Either way, they don’t fucking care. They don’t give a damn about me.”

  Oh boy. My heart tightens in my chest.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He eases me away from him, then scoots down the bed, tucking a pillow under his head. “Come here.”

  My brows draw together right before he grabs me by the waist, settling me over his face. I gasp, looking down at him between my knees. “I—”

  “No more talking.” He grabs my ass and tugs me down to him, forcing my knees to slide outward until my pussy is spread wide and hovers just over his mouth. A surge of pleasure hits me like a tidal wave as he breathes in, a rumble sounding in his chest. “Fuck yes.” He swipes his tongue over me with maddeningly bold strokes until I’m forced to grab the headboard for support.

  My limbs ache, but I can’t deny him.

  He moans against me. “I fucking love to eat your pussy.” He’s ferocious in the way he devours me, using tongue, lips, and even his teeth to send me soaring.

  It doesn’t take long before I’m on the brink again, body shaking.

  “Fucking come for me, Daph,” he growls against my opening before he spears his tongue inside of me.

  Shimmering explosions race through my body, and all I can do is moan. “Oh, God. Micah. Micah …”

  He doesn’t want to talk anymore. And I’m mostly okay with that—at least for now, while his mouth on me makes both of us forget everything else.

  Chapter 40

  I’m dead—so fucking dead—from the way he’s kissing me. It’s like he’s fucking my mouth with his tongue. Right here, in the middle of the hallway between classes. Fucking. My. Mouth. He turns and presses my back to the locker behind me.

  “Hot damn. Are you sure you don’t want to take her to homecoming tomorrow, Big Man?” Max leans against the locker right next to where Micah still has his tongue half down my throat. I pat Micah’s chest, and he groans, easing away from me. My face flushes. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to kissing Micah at school. Ever since we slept together Tuesday afternoon, he’s been insatiable, putting his hands—and mouth—on me anytime he can.

  Of course
, the downer is that before he does it, I’ve noticed he always gives a look around to see who’s nearby. My guess is that he doesn’t want to do it in front of Alora—but whether that’s to spare her feelings or to protect me, I’m not one hundred percent sure. Honestly, I’m unsure of everything except Micah’s ability to make me lose my damn mind in the middle of the hallway. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. Ever.

  I shake my head, scowling at Max. “I thought we’d decided to go together? I’m not going to ditch you two days before.”

  “Well sure, but—” He meets Micah’s gaze behind me.

  Micah pulls my body closer to him, his chin resting on the top of my head. “I wouldn’t want to steal your date, Max. It’s cool. But she did promise to dance with me.” He clears his throat. “I almost forgot.” He lets go of me and turns to his locker. He spins the dial and, once he has it open, he pulls a folded jersey off the shelf. “Coach has called an extra-long practice tonight, so tutoring is off, but—”

  I frown, noting the odd look on his face. “What? What is it?”

  Max looks on in delighted amusement as if we are characters from his favorite new reality TV series.

  “Tomorrow is Spirit Day.”

  My eyes do that weird darting-back-and-forth thing as I try to figure out what he means.

  “I noticed you haven’t really dressed up for Spirit Week.” He presses the jersey into my hands. “But I was hoping you’d wear this tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” My brows shoot up to my hairline.

  “It would mean a lot to me.”

  A whisper of a smile pulls at my lips. “Okay. Thank you.” My voice hitches before I can say anything else.

  Micah stamps a kiss to my lips. “I’ve got to get to study hall. You’ll wear it?”

  I nod, bringing it up to my face and inhaling. It smells like him.

  As he walks backward, his eyes still on me, Micah says, “There’s something pinned to the inside. Make sure you look.”

  It’s not until I’m standing across from Scarlett at our table in the art room watching her begin to wedge her clay that I realize what Micah was referring to is actually an envelope pinned to the tag.

  “What’s the deal? Micah wants you to wear his jersey?” She barely pauses. “Xander gave me one of his, too. It’ll be like we’re doing twin day, just a few days late.”

  I nod in answer, but focus on the envelope in front of me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Ms. Simpson helping Kira Thompson, whose clay looks flat as a pancake instead of the way it should. “Pull it up and back, then push forward and down. Keep doing it. Oops, no, not like that. Here, let me show you.”

  With our teacher clearly occupied, I open the flap and slip the folded note out. I’m not usually one who would ignore my assignment, but knowing this envelope was in there waiting for me is way too tempting. It’s really thick. When I unfold it, there are several crisp hundred-dollar bills inside. Five of them, to be exact.

  I get hot all over, kind of like when I’m about to have a panic attack, and my hands shake.

  My eyes flick up to Scarlett just in time to see her lips part. She breathes out, “Whoa. How much is that?”

  “Um.” I swallow hard, looking at the note. I lower my voice. “It’s five hundred dollars.”

  Scarlett’s pretty blue eyes go wide, then soften. “Oh my God. Tell me he didn’t.”

  But I think he did—I know he did—before I ever read the note.

  * * *

  Daph,

  You’ll be the most beautiful girl at the dance no matter what, but I don’t want you to stress out over the cost of it. Please use this to get whatever you feel you need to make the night special for yourself. That’s why I fibbed and told you I couldn’t do tutoring today. Grab Scarlett after her practice is over and go shopping.

  Micah

  * * *

  “If you think he intends to pay for my homecoming dress, that would be a yes.”

  “And are you going to accept it?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “You know me pretty well after a couple months, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She pauses the kneading she’s doing to remove the bubbles from her clay and sets the lump down on the table. “And I know it probably eats at your pride to accept it. But with the way those snooty Roses act, you don’t want to show up looking anything less than perfect. If it helps, Xander insisted on paying for mine. Helped me pick it out, too.” Her eyes twinkle.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “We may have had some fun in the fitting room. And almost got thrown out.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God. Do you fuck all the time?” My voice dips down low. I glance around, hoping no one heard me.

  She shrugs with a smile. “We have fun with each other.” She picks up her hunk of clay and pats it while she wiggles her brows at me. “A lot of fun sometimes.”

  I bite my lip, thinking about Micah taking up most of my little twin bed as we’d lain there naked together and suddenly, I feel very hot. In an effort to distract myself from my train of thought, I say, “Well, you and I won’t have nearly as much fun together, but will you still go with me? I need a shopping partner so I don’t come out with something awful.”

  “Yep. Meet you at the River Rock Plaza at six?”

  “You’re on.”

  Chapter 41

  I’m totally glad that I’d made plans to do my spirit girl duties yesterday after school while I’d waited on Scarlett before our shopping trip. There’s no way I’d have time to get to school early this morning. I’d spent way too long in the shower, running my hands over my body and imagining what Micah sees and feels when he touches me. And I’m not nearly as good at getting myself off as he is, so I’d stood under the spray of the shower for a long, long time, pretending that the fingers on my clit were his. My legs had gotten so weak, I’m surprised I’d remained upright when my release ripped through me. And, holy crap, my mother knocked on the door as I was coming back to myself and asked in a cautious voice if I was okay or having some sort of issue. It didn’t dawn on me for several minutes after I’d assured her I was fine that I’d probably been moaning pretty loudly.

  Oops.

  After the shower this morning and my successful shopping trip yesterday with Scarlett, I’m feeling pretty good. I’d been able to find a gorgeous green dress that not only felt right when I put it on, but I’m pretty sure Micah will like, too. It still bothers me a bit that I used his money, but once I’d had some time to think about it, I knew Scarlett was right. If I were to show up in last year’s cast-off from the thrift store, everyone would notice. Nope. No can do. Mom had seemed relieved when I told her I’d managed to find something to wear—I think she assumes I borrowed it.

  Tomorrow night, I’ll do my best impersonation of a Rose and hope I pull it off, thereby staying unnoticed.

  I pull my long hair into a ponytail, secure the elastic, and give myself a once over in the mirror. I’ve put on a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top. Pulling Micah’s jersey over my head, I smile, even though I’m absolutely drowning in it. It’s like a dress on me. But it’s Micah’s. Number twelve.

  At the last second, I pick up a tube of lip gloss and slick it over my lips. There. I draw in a deep, steadying breath. Ready.

  I make my way down the stairs all decked out for Spirit Day. My parents have no idea I’m wearing Micah’s jersey today, and if they knew what I’ve been up to with him, they’d die on the spot.

  The kitchen smells like fresh blueberry muffins, and I find Dad seated at the table, muffin in one hand and his phone in the other. As he sets eyes on me, his brows inch toward his hairline. “What’s this?” He clears his throat and sits up a little, scanning my outfit.

  “What’s what?” Mom walks into the room, surprise lighting her eyes. “Oh, wow.”

  “It’s nothing. Just a jersey. It’s Spirit Day.”

  She laughs. “‘Just a jersey.’ I’m not buying that. Who’s number twelve?
”

  My parents probably aren’t aware of what my face looks like when I lie—because Daphne doesn’t do that—so I could probably get away with fibbing, except for the big R-O-B-E-R-T-S-O-N in bold letters stamped across my shoulders at the back of the jersey. “Micah.”

  Dad clears his throat. “That’s the kid that was here that day you had to wash your car.”

  I confirm, “Yep,” popping the P for emphasis.

  Instead of asking me, his gaze slides to Mom. “What does it mean when a girl wears a boy’s football jersey?”

  “Usually it means they’re dating.” She frowns. “I thought you were going to the homecoming dance with Max.” It comes out more like a question.

  Dad grumbles under his breath. “Please let it be Max.”

  “I am going with Max.” I chew on the inside of my cheek for a few seconds before I finally blurt, “But Micah asked me to wear his jersey, so I’m going to.”

  Mom tilts her head. “Oh, okay, then. It’s nice to support the players.”

  “That’s what I hear.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got to get going.”

  Dad passes me a banana, his voice rumbling. “Eat something, would you?”

  I give him a shrug. “Yep. Thanks.”

  Sliding into the driver’s seat of my car, I chuck my bag and the banana onto the passenger seat before taking off. I have nerves twisting my stomach all the way to Rosehaven. I mumble under my breath. “Eat? How the hell can I eat?” I’m about to walk into the academy, claimed by Micah and his gigantic jersey, for all to see.

  As I get to the parking lot, I grip the collar and tug it up under my nose, inhaling. It definitely still smells like him, kind of spicy and citrusy and manly all at once. I let go of the fabric and blow all of my breath out in a whoosh. Inhale. Let it back out. I’m calm. Everything is fine. Just walking into school in Micah’s jersey. No big deal. My heart isn’t racing, it’s going at freaking warp speed. Soon, I won’t be in the same galaxy, never mind at the same school, so it won’t matter what I’m wearing. That’s what it feels like anyway. I press my palm over my heart, willing it to slow. No such luck. It zooms off without me.