Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 05

Sam

Ten minutes after her assault on my dick, the girl is infuriating me for an entirely separate reason. She seems to have realized that the arm of the couch isn't exactly a throne and has been fidgeting like crazy for the past seven minutes. Nonstop. Her fingers tap rapidly against her thighs, her feet matching the rhythm on the couch. And I'm losing my fucking mind.

"Quit it, Somers," I whisper harshly. "You're driving me crazy."

She glances down at me, a grin lifting her lips. "How do you mean?" Her fingers drive over her knees, and I reach for her hand, stilling it against her leg. The grin drops, and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip around a sharp intake of breath. She's nervous. And while I'm glad about that—she should be anxious around me—I'm not proud of the way my cock responds.

"Sorry," she mutters, flattening her palm against her leg. I hold my hand over hers for another moment, giving her a look meant to remind her that she doesn't want to fuck with me. She meets my gaze and I can see something shifting behind her eyes; the fear disappears behind a defiance I'm beginning to associate with this chick. As soon as I've removed my palm, she places her feet on my thigh and begins tapping that same rapid beat again, using my leg as her bass drum pedal.

I let her get away with it for about thirty seconds before I wrap both my hands around her ankles.

"What are you doing?" she hisses as I work the laces of her dilapidated Converse. I have to hold in a laugh at her squeal of surprise as I slide the shoes from her feet, keeping a hand tight around her legs.

"Seriously, what the hell?" No smirk or lip bite now, just a nice, old-fashioned glare. Good.

I don't bother answering but run a finger lightly along the arch of her foot, expecting her to be ticklish there. She is, extremely, and I smirk at the way she bucks against me.

"Don't make me come after the jewels again," she growls.

"You mean these?" I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but way she snaps makes me want to snap back. I shift my grip and pull her feet toward my crotch.

"Do not," she snarls, trying to yank her feet out of my hold. I glance to Coleman, whose eyes are directed at his handbook. He's not paying attention to what's going on at our couch, but many of the other guys are. Jared's shaking with laughter beside me. I wonder for a half second if I'm really going to do it, and for some stupid reason, the idea of her feet in my lap jerks my dick to attention. Lucky for me, the way I'm sitting hides it. Last thing I need is for Weaver (or, worse, Somers) to know the exact affect her proximity has on me.

"Let go of me, you jackass." Somers digs her heels against my thigh.

"No can do," I taunt, keeping my grip tight. Jared pulls out his phone and flicks it to life. I don't even have to look to know he's pointing his camera at Somers' and my showdown.

"Say hello to SnapChat, Somers," I grin up at her, dragging her feet closer to my groin.

"No," she growls, her eyes furious, before she surprises me by rocking forward and flinging herself back, pulling her legs with her. I let her go and watch with shocked amusement as the girl's momentum propels her backward off the arm of the couch. Based on the crash and subsequent moan, this wasn't the plan.

I lean over to see Somers lying on the hardwood floor and holding her head. Jared follows with his phone still directed on the action. When she looks up, it's clear she wants to cry, but she steels herself against it. I have the tiniest flare of guilt, but I stamp that shit out before it can grow into anything. This is the same girl that ruined my best friend's life. A little headache is nothing in return for Ott having lost his family.

"Miss Somers, are you okay?" Mr. Coleman hovers about halfway through the group of us, watching her with concern.

"Damn, Coleman," I drawl before she can speak. "Looks like our resident chick got a little over-excited about the 'fraternization after hours' rulebook." I turn to Somers with a grin. "You may be sleeping in the boys' dorms tonight, but there's no need to backflip off the couch about it, Somers. I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole." I lower my voice to the same mock whisper from earlier. "I've heard about the Crabs."

Somers is having a harder time holding back her tears as she cradles her head and glares up at Jared and me from the floor. A pit forms in my stomach and I bark out a laugh, reminding her—and myself—that I don't give two shits if she's upset. When we're both settled back on the couch and Jared mutters to check my SnapChat, I watch the whole thing and high five him exactly the way I know I'm supposed to. I tell myself I don't feel like a real douchebag for it.