I headed straight for my locker as soon as I entered the school building. My best friend, Ciara, approached with a mischievous grin. Oh no. I knew that look well. She was about to launch into a shipping campaign. I turned away, anticipating her line of questioning. "So, who was the guy?" she asked, poking me in the ribs. "Just a family friend," I sighed, hoping to shut down the conversation before it began. "Family friend, my *ass*. I saw him pinning you to his car," she declared, practically fan-girling. I slammed my locker shut and started walking. "Please. He’s a jerk. I don’t even know his name, and I certainly don’t plan to."
Ciara fell into step beside me as we entered the classroom. I rolled my eyes, settling into a seat next to her. He was undeniably gorgeous, but insufferable. I’d barely spoken to him, and he’d already managed to insult me. We knew absolutely nothing about each other, yet he’d had the audacity to call me a spoiled rich girl. Just thinking about him made me want to gag.
The teacher walked in looking utterly exhausted. If I were in her position, I’d be drained too. She had to wake up early *and* deal with these kids every single day.
~~~~~~~~~~~
After my last class, I walked the halls with Ciara. I spotted Daniel, my crush since fifth grade, across the hallway. Unlike most of the guys at school, Daniel was… different. He wasn’t popular *because* he acted like everyone else. He was a nerd *and* a jock. He loved to read, maintained straight-A’s, and was equally passionate about sports. He didn’t care about status; he hung out with people for who they were.
Daniel had blonde hair and striking, light blue eyes. He was the definition of handsome. A faint six-pack was visible through his shirt, and he wore no tattoos, unlike *that* guy. His hair was long enough to brush his eyes, curling around his face. He towered over me. We only spoke when it concerned schoolwork. "I see you eye-raping your eight-year crush," she giggled, nudging me. "Oh, shut up," I muttered, walking faster. I wasn’t paying attention and bumped into Daniel.
My books tumbled to the floor. He smirked. “I-I’m so sorry,” I stammered, reaching for the scattered volumes, but he was already gathering them. “Are you always this clumsy, Ms. Powell?” he asked, his voice light. “No, I just didn’t see you,” I stuttered, heat rising in my cheeks.
“Well, here are your books.” He chuckled, handing me the stack. “Do you have a ride home?” he asked, biting back a smile. I opened my mouth to let Ciara answer for me. “No, she doesn’t,” she chirped, winking. I rolled my eyes. Ciara saying it was better than me saying no, at least. “Good. Do you think I can take you home?” he asked, his gaze intense. “Sure,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes. He’d asked to give me a ride. I never thought luck would be on my side.
I looked up, lost in thought. The guy, *my* bodyguard, was watching us. He rolled his eyes, his gaze locking with mine. He walked over, approaching Daniel and me. “Are you ready?” he asked me, his tone clipped. “It’s fine. Daniel is taking me home,” I said, trying to walk away, but he grabbed my hand. “Don’t make me repeat what happened earlier,” he growled, his grip tight. I hated him! Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
“I’m sorry, Daniel. I think I’ll take a rain check,” I stammered nervously. “Yeah, I can always take you home another day,” he whispered, his voice low. I was always so nervous when he came near me. I snapped out of it when I saw him staring at me. I rolled my eyes and got into the car.
He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away. I was glad he hadn’t lit a cigarette this time. My parents had probably lectured him about it, putting some sense into his head. "So, can I ask you a few questions?" I asked, breaking the silence. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Oh great, the brat has questions," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m not a brat."
"Yeah, that’s why you throw tantrums every second," he retorted sarcastically.
"Can you just answer my questions?" I asked, frustration bubbling up.
"Shoot," he said, leaning back.
"How old are you?"
"I'm 24."
I knew he was older, but not *that* much older. He looked so young, I'd assumed he was only twenty. I bit my lip, wondering what to ask next.
"What's your name?"
"Luca," he announced, his voice low.
Perfect body, perfect name. Could this guy get any better? I wanted to know more, but I was terrified. What if I got answers I didn’t like? I asked just one more question for now. "So why did you agree to be my bodyguard?" He sighed, studying me for a moment before turning back to the road. "My father owed your family a favor," he said.
"So you’re my family’s favor," I laughed, unable to help myself.
"What’s so funny?" he raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, you’re just a regular person. What can you do that any other guy can’t?" I asked, immediately regretting my words.
He smirked, pulling the car over to the side of the road. The windows were tinted, obscuring us from view. He unbuckled his seatbelt, his gaze cold. *Oh shit*. Was he about to kidnap me? He slowly scanned my body, top to bottom. His eyes lingered on my neck. Luca took hold of my wrists, his grip strong yet soft, sending shivers through me.
He swiftly unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me on top of him. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my cheeks burned. I was too close. I could smell his dark, musky cologne. I bit my lip again, and he didn't miss it. He licked his bottom lip slowly, his gaze fixed on my neck. "W-what are you doing?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Showing you something other guys can’t," he said, his voice a low growl. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my skin. I was nervous. Not only was I having an intimate moment with a guy older than me, but it was in a car where anyone could see us. He made little bite marks down my neck, sending jolts of pleasure through me. Shivers ran through my body as his hands slid up my shirt. He rubbed against my thigh, positioning me above the swollen bulge in his pants. "Luca, what if someone?" I moaned.
"It’s fine, little Amor," he growled against my neck. Luca leaned over and whispered into my ear, "Tell me, has any other guy made you feel like this?" I didn’t want to admit I’d been with one other guy, so I just left that part out. "No," I moaned against his chest. It wasn't a complete lie. The guy I'd been with hadn't been able to elicit this kind of response.
I felt his bulge pressing against me, and I was careful how I moved. Suddenly, someone knocked on the window. "Hey! You’re blocking our way!" they screamed. He stopped, a smirk playing on his lips. "This should teach you not to underestimate me," he said, pushing me back into my seat.
I took deep breaths, trying to regain control. How had things escalated so quickly? We’d barely met, and I was already moaning his name. He pulled back onto the road, and I remained silent, scared to say another word. Why did he have this effect on me? I hadn’t even told him to stop. I wanted him to keep going.
I stared out the window in silence for the rest of the ride.