Wrecked

by Rachel Hanna

  And it was getting harder and harder to do that with each encounter. Besides, I reminded myself sternly, was I really interested in giving up something like my virginity to some asshole who had been around the block more than a few times?

  Reminding myself of all of that was good and rational. It was important to keep a good head on my shoulders in situations like this… except with him I couldn’t seem to.

  When I had been bombarded by the leather wearing, motorcycle riding, cigarette smoking, binge drinking college party guys during my freshman year, it had been hard to say no. I’d had to physically force myself to walk away from them, no matter how much I craved a damn cigarette or how much a shot of Jack sounded good.

  But I’d done it.

  I’d thrown myself into the books with a renewed vengeance, reminding myself why I was here in the first place. And after a while, it got easier. I was able to leave behind the girl I used to be and embrace this new girl. This smart, classy girl who didn’t get trashed or do stupid things.

  But now I stood here, inches away from his hard body, and all I could do was stare at his lips and think how much I wanted them pressed against my skin.

  “Then why don’t you?” I finally managed to choke out when he didn’t continue.

  One of his large hands reached out to brush away a strand of my curly, unruly hair, but it paused before he ever touched me. Instead, he tensed and balled his hand into a fist. It dropped down to his side and I could see, really see, the battle going on in his eyes.

  He was torn about something—I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Because it’s a bad idea,” he murmured, his whole body suddenly tense. “You’re different. And…”

  I frowned, my eyebrows pulling together. “And what?”

  His eyes searched my face intently, lingering on each feature—my eyes, my nose, my lips, my cheeks, everything—before settling once more on my eyes. “And you don’t want me like that.”

  Didn’t want him like that? Didn’t want him?

  I felt anger flare inside me. “What do you know about what I want?”

  His eyebrows rose in surprise at my tone of voice. “Well, you don’t seem very interested,” he pointed out as evidence.

  My hands balling into fists next to me, I closed one of the two inches between us. “Oh, I’m interested,” I told him, my eyes flashing. “I’m interested—I just don’t feel the need to throw myself to the wolf like all the other girls around here.”

  The truth was on the tip of my tongue. Beck, but I couldn’t talk about it. And I couldn’t think about it. So when Logan opened his mouth to argue with me, probably about the wolf comment, I decided I was tired of thinking and of talking. I closed the last bit of distance between us, pushing up on the balls of my feet to press my lips against his.

  For a moment he froze, surprised by my forwardness, but only for a moment.

  It didn’t take long for him to respond to my kiss.

  Suddenly, he pushed me against the wall, his lips hard and insistent on mine. A mixture of fury, adrenaline, and lust coursed through my body and demanded that my hands tangle through his thick, blonde hair, rake along his scalp, and pull him closer to me. I didn’t even think twice when I did so, just like he didn’t hesitate when my mouth opened to allow his tongue to slide in.

  I couldn’t think and it didn’t seem like he could either.

  His hands clenched tightly on the wall beside me, his muscles taut with strain. I kept waiting for his hands to snap to my hips or my ass to pull my pelvis closer to his, but it never happened. It was like he was resisting deliberately. Like maybe he didn’t trust his own hands…

  Maybe I should have taken a page out of his book, because my hands were anything but trustworthy and they were relentless. They couldn’t get enough of him. One stayed in his hair, gripping the silky locks tightly, but the other had to roam. I slid it down his neck to his broad shoulder which was all hard, thick muscle, and continued on down to his chest. My nails dug into his shirt as they went until my fingers finally clenched into a tight fist in the material, desperately pulling him to me.

  He didn’t resist my demands, his body pressing all the closer to mine, one leg threading between mine. I groaned as he continued kissing me, passionate and insistent. The hand wrapped in his shirt released the material to move lower again, trailing over the sculpted abs of his stomach to his hip bones.

  Before I could even think about what I was doing—what a mistake it was—my fingers hooked into his belt to pull him even closer.

  When his hips slammed into mine, he broke the kiss to whisper, “Jesus, Addy,” harshly against my swollen lips.

  My lidded, lust-filled eyes glanced at his arms on either side of me and I asked him breathily, “Why won’t you put your hands on me?”

  I expected my words to light a fire in his body that couldn’t be put out and would force him to wrap his arms around my body until we were pressed so close together I would have trouble breathing.

  Instead, he froze.

  All of the heat, the passion, the insatiable desire that I was swimming through seemed to just vanish in the space of a single breath. My eyes moved past the now hard line of his mouth to find his piercing blue eyes boring into mine. They were sharp, thoughtful, and conflicted about something. After a moment, he shut them tightly and cursed under his breath. With what seemed like a grand amount of effort, he pushed himself away from the wall—away from me.

  He put several paces between us, his once again open eyes looking anywhere but at me.

  My body sagged against the loss of him, but my mind raged in confusion. “What was that all about?” I demanded hotly, crossing my arms over my chest, mostly to hide the fact that I was taking heavy breaths. I couldn’t tell if my question was referring to the way he shoved me against the wall, all hot and heavy—which I had started—or if I was talking about him pulling away once we had started up.

  But I definitely knew I was angry.

  “You’ll be late for class,” Logan said through a tense jaw.

  He still wasn’t looking at me. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and all I could think was he wouldn’t touch me. “Since when do you care about my attendance?” I demanded, my anger starting to boil over. I could feel it happening—and knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. There was no stopping the next words out of my mouth: “I thought your solution to passing classes was to just sleep with the professor.”

  That got Logan’s attention. His eyes snapped to my face, flashing dangerously. That was the kind of look he gave people that made them back away, hands raised to show they didn’t want trouble. That was the kind of look that had everyone in school positive Logan was nothing but trouble—and the reason why Kass was nervous every time she saw him coming around.

  And yet, it wasn’t enough to stop me.

  I propped up one hip and gave him a smile that was more like a sneer. “Maybe I should just show a little cleavage?” I teased in a mocking tone, my hands going casually to my sweatshirt to pull down the zipper and reveal the shirt beneath. It wasn’t low cut or anything, but it was a v-neck and my ample chest was enough to drive home my point. “Maybe show a bra strap?”

  Logan’s jaw was clenched so tightly, I was surprised it hadn’t broken.

  But I still didn’t stop.

  “Or better yet,” I continued in that same mocking, overly chipper tone. It was my best imitation of the girls who liked to throw themselves desperately at Logan’s sculpted body. “Why don’t I just forgo the bra altogether?” I reached beneath my shirt to find the strap sitting on my shoulder just beside the collar. It happened to be a bright purple that day and I snapped it against my skin for emphasis.

  His blue eyes followed the movement and went hard.

  That was apparently it. Logan’s line in the sand and I had crossed it. Before I could say or do anything more, Logan closed the distance between us so aggressively that he forced me back into the wall, his ri
ght hand slamming hard beside me. I jumped at his sudden hit, even though it was nowhere near me.

  “Damnit!” he growled at me.

  My mind flashed to Lexie’s words He’s dangerous, but then I heard Mason follow her with That’s a lie. He’d never hurt a woman. Never.

  I couldn’t say for sure why he was so angry, why my words bothered him so much considering it wasn’t any different than any of the other slutty girls who tried so hard to throw their panties in his face. Maybe it was because I wasn’t throwing them in his face, but threatening to give a teacher that show. Except that I had thrown myself at Logan. Not deliberately, not while I still had my faculties, but as soon as his skin touched mine, I seemed to lose all ability to reason.

  I was putty in his hands.

  And yet, instead of doing sexy things to me in the closet that was not three feet away, he pushed back and refused to give me a second glance.

  “What?” I demanded in a hushed, still harsh sound.

  He was so tense, so angry that he was shaking. I worried for a split second that maybe Kass was right and that the rumors floating around school were more than just rumors. But then he cursed again and pushed off the wall, walking firmly down the hall and away from me. He didn’t look back once, just shook his head and kept going.

  I watched him shamelessly, secure that no one was watching me. His body moved with a strange, fluid grace that was all power. His hair glinted golden in the tendrils of sunlight that filtered in through the windows. He could almost be some kind of angel… if it weren’t for the cursing and the stomping and the fooling around with every girl who would spread her legs.

  Which I had almost been.

  I let out a long groan when he had disappeared around the corner and slumped down to the floor, leaning back against the wall. “What are you doing, Addy?”

  To make matters worse, my cell buzzed, notifying me of another text. Sliding it out of my pocket, I stared down at it in disbelief. The words were gibberish to me for a moment. It was impossible. I had to be misreading the text. But this was the truth. Staring down at the text, I read it three more times to convince myself.

  Then the nausea hit me.

  Miranda is coming.