You’re Mine by Penny Brooks

Chapter 45

Harper

My brother is a complete idiot.

Our parents gave us the biggest speech ever about not having people over when they're out of town and how our friends broke stuff and raided their liquor cabinet. Ryan put on his best innocent front, telling them he had no control over their actions and he didn’t think the party would get so out of hand.

He took the brunt of the blame because it was more his party than mine, and our parents knew it. I invited Sadie over. That's it. While Ryan invited the entire school.

Anyway.

He's got a group of guys out in the backyard sitting by the pool, the tiki torches lit and music playing while they all pass around a blunt. One of those guys just happens to be Easton.

An aggravated sigh leaves me and I refocus on my laptop and the English essay I need to write that's only halfway finished. I tap at the keys for a little bit before ! pause, my mind drawing a blank.

I can't concentrate.

It's so hard, knowing Easton is here. In my backyard. I should be mad at him. I slapped his stupid face for saying such a shitty thing to me. Run a train ..

I kind of knew what he meant, but not really. The moment I slipped into my desk at class I pulled out my phone and Googled it, even more furious when I read the definition.

He wanted to uh...take turns with me with his friends? Gross.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was absolutely full of shit. He doesn’t want to share me with his friends.

He wants to keep me all to himself.

Doesn't matter though. I'm still mad at him. And I swear, he makes me so mad that I also become aroused. Which is just weird and freaks me out a little. Like, what the hell is wrong with me?

Lots of things. Plenty of things. And all of them have to do with Easton. Sighing, I give up trying to work on the essay and go to my window, pulling the curtain back so I can watch the boys sitting at the outdoor table, their long bodies slouched forward, legs spread and heads leaning back against the cushioned seats of our outdoor chairs. My gaze zeros in on Easton, noting his black hoodie and pants. How he looks ready to commit armed robbery, which is kind of hot.

See? I have issues.

My phone buzzes and I run to go check it.

Easton: I see you.

I glance toward the window, wondering if I should answer him.

Easton: Checking me out?

My fingers start flying. The arrogant jerk.

Me: You wish.

Easton: Why aren't you down here?

Me: Why are you texting me? I SLAPPED you.

Easton: You can't stay mad at me forever.

Me: I should

Easton: Let me see your room.

I pause, staring at his text. Should I? That's risky. God knows what he might do to me in here.

A shiver slips down my spine at all the possibilities flooding my brain. Me: No way.

Easton: Come on. Just for a few minutes.

Me: Why?

Easton: I want to talk to you.

Me: Fine. But hurry. And don't tell Ryan.

Easton: Like I would.

I toss my phone on my nightstand and frantically get to work. Gather up all the papers and crap on my desk and shove them in my backpack. Slam my laptop shut. Kick my dirty clothes into the closet and shut the door. I straighten my bed as best can, eventually full on making it.

He's still not here.

I go to the window and peek outside.

He's not down there either.

My door quietly swings open and then he’s slipping inside, closing the door quietly behind him before he turns to face me, a devilish smile on his face as he scans my room. His hood is pulled over his head, giving him a stalkerish air which I should not find appealing.

Yet I do.

“Nice digs.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Easton?”

“Have I ever told you I like it when you say my name?” He raises his brows.

Remembering I don't have a bra on under the oversized T-shirt I'm currently wearing, I cross my arms over my chest. “Even when I'm mad at you?”

“Especially when you're mad at me.” His gaze rakes over me, lingering on my legs, which are exposed by the cotton night shorts I like to wear to bed. “Come here.”

It's the unspoken demand in his voice that does it for me. Like I can't stop myself, I approach him, a gasp escaping me when he snatches me by the waist and pulls me into him. Our torsos are flush, my thin shorts no barrier between my body and his ridged erection.

I'm confused. One look at me and he gets hard?

“Why do you hate me so much?” He touches my cheek with the backs of his fingers, drifting his knuckles down, down, until he’s running them along my jaw. Goosebumps erupt all over my body and I part my lips, ready to answer him.

But he keeps talking.

“I wouldn't kiss Aisha,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping beneath my chin and tilting my face up. “I'm not interested in her.”

“You're lying.” My voice is shaky and I close my eyes when his thumb brushes against my lower lip.

“It's true.” His thumb presses against the middle of my lip. “You enjoy that kiss with Blake today?”

I say nothing.

He presses harder.

"Did you?"

My answer is the slightest shake of my head, my eyes still squeezed shut.

“Look at me, Harper.”

My lids snap open to find his face directly in mine, his blue eyes glittering. “I'm

going to erase every trace of his lips on yours with mine. His lame ass is going to be a distant memory in a matter of seconds. Do you understand?”

"Yes, 1-

Easton silences me with his mouth, his tongue thrusting, circling around mine. I moan into his kiss, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck as we kiss and kiss as if we depend on each other's mouths to survive. He nips at my lower lip with his teeth. I thrust my fingers into his hair, pulling on it hard.

“Fuck,” he whispers, angling his head so he can dive back into my mouth.

I should tell him to leave, I think as he slips his hand beneath my T- shirt, his warm fingers caressing my stomach. I should at least tell him to lock the damn door.

Instead, I do none of those things. I lean into his palm when he cups my breast, his thumb toying with my nipple, and silently beg him.

More.

Please.