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He stands up and grabs my hand, dragging me along behind him as Ranger growls and curses from behind us.
We head into the hallway, and I'm pleased to say the lightbulbs are all in working order again. Looks like Eddie's good for something.
The twins are waiting, arms crossed over their chests.
“What are we doing out here?” they ask as Spencer drags me down the hall.
“Chuck wants to shower, and I figure he needs guards.” Spencer shrugs his shoulders and pushes me in the bathroom door. “I'll be the interior guard. You two do your twin thing right here.”
“Seriously?” Tobias asks as Spencer slams the door in his face before checking out the bathroom to make sure nobody else is in there. Then he looks at me with this bestial little grin, and I take a step back.
“What are you doing?” I ask him as he strips off his tie and shoves it in the pocket of his blazer.
“Stripping.” Spencer moves toward me, his face this dark mask of desire that has me humming. Cody never looked at me like that, like some sort of wily fox intent on his mate. Nah, he was just the groping teenage asshole. This is so much better.
Spencer turns in a half circle around me, until he's walking backward, and then disappears into the door of one of the shower stalls.
I hesitate for a moment, and then curse under my breath, following after him and locking the door behind me.
“Are you serious right now? The twins are right outside the door.”
“So?” Spencer chucks his shirt to the floor, standing near the tiled area in all his muscular glory. “We're dating; they won't mind.”
I twist my hands in front of me.
My body feels hot and needy, like if I fight this any longer, I'll go up in flames. But …
“They might though,” I whisper, and Spencer frowns at me.
“Why?” He takes a few steps toward me and puts his hands on my shoulders, sliding one of them up the side of my neck and cupping the back of my head. “They like you; I'm their best fucking friend. Why wouldn't they want us to be together?”
The sound of the bathroom door opening gives us both pause.
“Hurry up in there. Mark is pitching a fit about having to take a piss.” It's Micah. I don't know how I can tell; I just can. Even their voices are different.
“Tell him to go outside!” Spencer shouts back, and Micah's sigh echoes around the whole room.
“Ranger's on the warpath, too. He doesn't think you guys are safe enough in there. I told him you just need to bang it out, so chop-chop, hurry it up.” He slams the door, and Spencer flashes a grin.
“Told ya,” he says, and I feel my heart drop a little. The twins are encouraging this? I mean … that's good, right? That's what I want. I want them to be happy I'm dating Spencer. After all, I can't date more than one guy at a time, right? Unless it were the twins. I guess then it'd be two, but that's a special exception.
“I'm not … super sex savvy,” I whisper, and Spencer laughs, putting his forehead up against mine for a moment, his hyssop and cedar scent mixing with the bleach and soap smell of the bathroom.
“I'll teach you,” he whispers back, and then he's pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. His eyes darken as he takes me in, the bindings covering my breasts. “Oh, Chuck-let,” he murmurs. Without a word, I turn and he takes the end of the wrap, tucked in behind the strap of my bra, and pulls it out. “Spin for me.”
“It's too much like Shakespeare In Love,” I groan, putting my hands over my face. “I can't do it; I hate that movie too much.”
Spencer pauses, and then he snorts with laughter, yanking on the bandage so hard that I stumble back into his arms.
“You are too much, Chuck Carson,” he says, carefully unwinding this morning's work. The white strand drifts to the floor, and my heart begins to pound again. The back of my bra comes undone, and the hot pink fabric falls forward, exposing my breasts.
I can't fucking breathe, I think as Spencer puts the palm of his hand on my belly. His mouth is way too close to my ear. Every time he breathes, I feel my hair flutter, and my knees get weak.
“I hate that you guys lied to me, but I'm pretty excited about this little secret of yours.” Spencer's warm palm slides down my stomach and his fingers deftly flick the fly open on my slacks. He dives in, cupping me through the fabric of my underwear. “I cannot wait to see these sexy little panties …” And then he pushes my slacks to the floor with his other hand, revealing, not the cute lacy pink panties that match the bra I was wearing, but instead a pair of men's tighty-whities with a pair of rolled up socks stuffed in the loose crotch. “What the hell?”
My whole body goes up in flames, and I struggle to free myself from his grip.
“Just in case I got pantsed!” I grumble, elbowing him and getting nothing but a wall of hard muscles for the effort. “You guys can be dicks, you know. Not to mention the rest of the school. I never knew when someone might go for a classic bullying move.”
Spencer squeezes my rolled up socks and groans, sagging against me.
“For the second time, Chuck, I'm feeling up your dick, and I am so turned-on.” He pauses for a moment. “Like, this totally feels fake, but last time … what was I grabbing exactly?”
“Okay, enough of that,” I mumble, trying to pull away. Instead, Spencer slides his hand inside the underwear to retrieve the socks, tossing them aside before he goes back in, cupping my bare body and making my head spin.
“You're beautiful, Charlotte Carson,” he murmurs, slicking a single finger along the wet heat between my thighs. “Old man underwear and all.” Spencer slips inside of me with two fingers, and I see colors, rainbows bursting in my vision as the pleasure races through me like a summer storm.
He holds me up with his right arm around my waist, his bare chest pressed to my back, his teeth nibbling along the edge of my ear. My entire body breaks out in goose bumps, and a soft sound slips past my lips. My lids feel suddenly heavy, like I've been drugged with pheromones.
I can feel Spencer's heart beating behind me, hear the wild panting of his breath as he dips those two fingers into my core and brings stars dancing across the colorful splotches in my vision. It's like a symphony of light inside of me, all these shooting stars twinkling from head to toe.
Our breathing echoes in the quiet bathroom, and I just hope to hell that nobody breaks in here and climbs the wall again. Doubt I'd hear them; Ranger has a right to worry.
Spencer's right hand slides up and cups the heavy mound of my breast, teasing the sore flesh with a gentle kneading motion, his thumb tracing the edge of my nipple.
It feels so good, I get lost in the sensations, so much so that I forget exactly where I am. If you think about it, it's a pretty risky place to do this, in an all-boys' school, in an all boys' dorm, in the all-boy's bathroom. And with a murderer or two or three on the loose?
We must be idiots.
And yet I can't stop.
Spencer lets go of me and steps back. When I turn to look at him, his turquoise eyes are dark with need, and he's slowly and meticulously stripping the last of his clothing off.
I follow suit.
We end up under the hot burn of the shower, my back pressed to the white marble walls, one of Spencer's hands on my ass as he kisses me with a vicious desire that turns my inhibitions to ash. The thing is, he's kissing me with the same level of passion and want that he did when he thought I was a boy.
Damn it, this guy is really winning me over.
“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” he murmurs, putting his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder. “I would've understood; I could've helped.”
“I'm afraid.” The words slip out before I mean them to. Once I say them, I can't decide if I mean the whole murder-mystery thing, or my attraction to Spencer, my flirtation with the twins. All of it. Everything.
“We'll find these pieces of shit, I promise you that,” he tells me, lifting his head up to look at me. Our gazes connect with a
spark that brings me to life, and it's like my body's moving of its own accord.
Spencer turns me around and positions my hands on the wall, fingers splayed. He curls the fingers of his right hand through mine, and I shiver as his lips kiss hot droplets of water from my bare shoulders.
“Condom?” I manage to remember that little piece of the equation, even as Spencer grinds his hips against me, teasing me in places nobody else has ever touched.
“Fuck, yeah, I almost forgot.” He lets go of me briefly, and I lean my forehead against the wall, struggling to control my breathing. I lost my virginity last week; this week, I'm standing in a hot shower waiting for a boy I thought was dead to romance me.
Fuck sand, sun, and surf. This is so much better.
Spencer comes back and pushes the showerhead away slightly, so that it's just a warm mist settling over our skin. He traces my body with his hands as I stand there trembling.
“You okay, Virgin Chuck?” he asks with a bit of laughter in his voice. I nod, but I'm both scared and excited at the same time. It's a lot, to go from someone who's barely hit second base, to someone who's now naked in a hot shower with their crush.
“Just nervous,” I whisper, and Spencer wraps his arms around me from behind, our slick skin rubbing together, the heat from our bodies mixing with the shower. “But I want this, I do.”
“Are you sure? We can go back out there and play Candy Land with the twins instead.”
“You're such a dick,” I grumble, but then he's sliding his hand back down between my legs and touching me in ways I've only ever touched myself. It feels a hundred times better when he does it though, his fingers dancing a rhythm that loosens up the tension in my muscles.
Spencer kisses the side of my neck, using his left hand to position himself at the aching heat of my core. He eases forward, filling me up with a single, hard thrust. And that's it, we're joined together.
My fingers curl against the wet tiles on the wall as Spencer begins to move, working his body between my thighs, his lips teasing the side of my neck. When he reaches up and turns my chin with his fingers, we share this hot, messy kiss over the shoulder that does all sorts of things to my stomach, turning it into a knot of feelings and emotions that I can't even begin to go through.
My back arches when Spencer's left hand cups my breast. He's touching every part of me, and I love it. I want more; I feel like I can't get close enough.
We work our bodies together until I'm panting and shaking, until my knees promise to knock my ass to the floor if I don't sit down. That's when Spencer scoops me up in his arms and lays me out on a towel on the bathroom floor, covering my body with his steaming hot form, his muscles taut and covered in warm droplets, his pelvis fitting perfectly between my hips.
I love the feel of him on top of me, the weight of him, the pressure of his body driving into mine. There's no give in this floor either, so it's a totally different experience from the bedroom last week, when we were both dipped in confusion and heartbreak and frenzy.
Spencer comes first, his body tightening above mine, hands locking on my hips as he spills himself into the condom. He pulls out quickly, sweating and panting, and ties it off.
“See?” he teases with a grin, and then wraps it with toilet paper before tossing it into the trash. Before I can think up a smart retort, he's curling up beside me, his hand curving between my legs, his lips claiming my own.
He's patient with me, and even though it takes a while, Spencer coaxes an orgasm from me, using his thumb and two fingers to work all my most sensitive spots. His hot slash of a tongue switches from my mouth to my breasts, making me thrash, white splotches flickering behind my lids.
It hits me in a rush, this warm wave of pleasure that uncoils from my center and takes over my entire body. A scream starts to break from my throat, and Spencer clamps his hand over my mouth.
Too late.
The door to the bathroom opens as I scramble up and grab a towel, just in time for the twins to double kick the door to the shower stall open. They gape at us with those big green eyes of theirs.
“What's happening?” Tobias asks, whipping his attention from Spencer, sitting naked on the floor, to me, standing next to the bathtub in nothing but a towel. I can barely see him as I've somehow lost my glasses along the way, but I can sense this hot bite of jealousy. It stings my skin and makes me want to squirm. “We heard Chuck scr—” He cuts himself off as Micah waltzes in, bends down, and picks up my foggy glasses, cleaning them off on his shirt before handing them over.
I slip them on my face in time to see Tobias' tight, guarded expression as he puts the whole scene together. He looks me over then glances down at Spencer.
“You're such a dick face,” he says, and Spencer frowns at him.
“Sorry we made you guys worry.” His frown twitches up slightly into a smile. “I didn't know Charlotte here was a screamer.”
“I'm … I'm … a not!” I yell back, still shaky and boneless from the orgasm.
“You’re ‘a not’? That's a new one.” Micah gives me this sharp once-over, and then meets my eyes with a challenge burning in his. “Real creative, Chuck. Now, get your ass dressed and Tobias and I will walk you back to the headmaster's. Ranger wants to bitch Spencer out.”
“Seriously?” Spencer asks as Tobias bends down and hands me my clothes. Then the twins drag a naked Spencer out of the room and kick the door closed.
But the way they looked at me …
This isn't over yet, is it?
The memorial for Eugene is held in the rear gardens on Friday, a place I most definitely never go. Now that I'm like, friends with the Student Council or whatever, it feels like the campus has tripled in size. All the places I avoided before seem open. I'm not as worried about the other students discovering my secret with these guys at my back.
There are candles and tears, flowers and photos. That, and an entire table laden with food. Our Baked Alaska—which, by the way, is a pound cake topped with ice cream and meringue and then, well, baked—sits pretty in the center.
“This is majorly depressing,” Spencer says, smoking a cigarette in the shadows of the trees while my father's back is turned. I’ve been having trouble looking at him all day. Same with the twins. It’s much easier if I just wedge myself between Church and Ranger and pretend like nothing happened last night.
“Imagine if it'd been you,” I say, and he turns to look at me, face covered in shadows but for the orange burn of his lit cigarette. My stomach is in knots, and all I can think about is how I'd be feeling if he were gone, if I never got to see him again.
I've never experienced that sick sense of loss before. I feel like it seriously knocked the shit out of me and my emotions. And then having to worry about this supposed move to Cali? It’s too much.
“This is so goddamn depressing,” Micah whispers, leaning back against a tree, a glass soda bottle in one hand. He lifts it to his lips and I see the distinctive cherry label on the front. The McCarthy twins seem to have a thing for cherries.
“Can we bail?” they ask in unison, turning to look at Ranger instead of Church like they usually do. Probably because it seemed important to him, honoring Eugene and all that.
“There's a college party in the city,” Church suggests, and the guys exchange a look.
My dad steps up to the table and lifts a knife, cutting the baked Alaska and passing out slices to Eugene's melancholy friends.
“We can go,” Ranger says, nodding and exhaling. He has a look of grim satisfaction, like we've done what we needed to do here.
“You should go as a girl,” the twins suggest, hooking their arms together and pointing at me. They both grin. “College party, city kids, no worries about your secret getting out.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say, feeling this small light of excitement in all the darkness. I've just pushed aside the issue of California for now; I'm not going back. Dad has to see that I'm better off here. “Let's go back to the house and I'll get changed.”
We sneak through the woods and move down the path, heading toward the curve where one of the benches sits. There's a ring of red candles set up in front of it, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Little far from the memorial, huh?” I ask, and then Ranger pauses, putting out a hand to grab my arm. He holds on with a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, pulling me back a step.
“What the fuck is that?” he whispers, and we all squint in the growing dusk at the small bird body in the center of the circle.
“Is that … blood?” I whisper, eyes widening.
“That bird is missing its head,” Church says, crossing his arms over his chest. Ranger kneels down next to the circle of candles and blows the wick out, using the long thick red length of it to poke the bird's body.
“It's not missing its head per se,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “It's just not attached.” He points at a small, feathered lump nearby, and my stomach turns over.
“Why would someone leave a dead bird here during Eugene's memorial?” I ask, and then it hits me as I'm saying it. “Because they're the ones that killed him.” The words come out in a whisper, and I swear, it's like nature's conspiring against us. The wind ruffles the trees, the cool breeze bringing goose bumps up on my arms as I cross them over my chest. And then one of those goddamn fucking owls starts hooting.
“This is so beyond creepy,” the twins murmur, and then they snap a photo with their phones, blinding us all with the flash.
“Shit, this is getting weird,” Ranger murmurs, standing up and tossing the candle onto the heap. “We should report this to the headmaster.”
“Yeah, and then he'll ban me from going to the party tonight. Let's just get out of here for now, and we'll tell him in the morning. Either that, or someone else is bound to stumble on this and report it for us.” I pause, and frown. Actually … I can't decide if Dad would blow this off as nothing, or if he'd take it too seriously. It's impossible to tell with him. Honestly, it feels like whatever reaction would be least beneficial to me is the one he always takes.