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Looking down at my girl, she scowls, then nods. “Mine,” she mouths.
“Yours,” I mouth back, then I drop my lips to her ear and rasp. “I’m going to fuck you so good when we get home, Princess. I’m going to make you come so hard.”
A tremble runs through her, and she inhales sharply, but all I can do is smile.
30
PENELOPE
Before today, I wouldn’t have said I was a jealous person, but seeing Amanda pressed up against Hawthorn made the green-eyed monster I didn’t realize existed inside of me rear its ugly head with an intensity I have never experienced before. I wanted to write my name across his chest and warn every girl in a thirty-mile radius that he’s mine.
Mine.
Wow, he’s turning me into a possessive cavewoman, and even though I should be appalled, all I could feel was anger that she was touching him and fear that he might want her to.
“I’m going to fuck you so good when we get home, Princess.”
His words repeat inside my head, and I have to swallow down the moan of want and desire that ripples through me.
He’s mine, and I’m his.
Something settles deep inside of me when I acknowledge the thought. We’re an us, and it’s not just about the sex, it’s so much more.
“Did you see the articles?” Kip asks, forcing my lusty thoughts away.
“I can’t believe they picked the story up so quickly,” Izzy says.
“I think we should do the call anyway, have the girls pulled out of class, and then you guys can get them out of here, all teary-eyed, while our photographer takes pictures. That way we can control where the visuals go first,” Kip suggests, his gaze distant while he plots six steps ahead of the rest of us.
“Agreed, we want to be ahead of the curve on this, then maybe we can post on the girls’ social media tonight, asking for privacy in this difficult time,” Gulliver says with a dry chuckle.
A giggle bursts from me, and I bury my face in Hawthorn’s chest to muffle the sound.
“Let’s go eat before it’s showtime. Everyone got their sad faces sorted?” Davis asks, flashing us an exaggerated, devastated expression.
Laughing, we all make our way to the cafeteria and claim a table at the back of the room. Just like every day, everyone seems to watch us as we talk, laugh, and eat. In the past, I would have reveled in the attention, but now I’m not assessing how jealous people are that I’m here with this group. I’m just enjoying spending time with my boyfriend, my sister, and the boys that I’m starting to think of as friends.
The “phone call” comes in the middle of the last class of the day, the class that conveniently both Izabella and I share with Gulliver and Hawthorn. Mrs. Jones from the administration office knocks on the door, smiling weakly at the teacher as she speaks to him in a low voice.
“Penelope and Izabella Rhodes, you’re needed in the administration office. You can take your things with you,” Mr. Oliver says, his lips drooping into a frown. “Perhaps Mr. Winslow and Mr. Benedict could accompany you.”
Wearing my best confused gaze, I look at my sister, barely restraining my smile when she shrugs and quickly packs up her belongings. The guys follow suit, and we let Mrs. Jones lead us all out of the classroom, while the other students whisper about what could have happened to pull us from class.
The elderly administrator ushers us all into the principal’s office, her eyes sad and filled with sympathy as Izabella and I take the two seats directly in front of the principal’s desk, while Gulliver and Hawthorn stay standing behind us.
“Girls,” Principal Smith says, her voice soft and low. “I just received a telephone call from Detective Morris from the Green Acres Police Department, with some very worrying news.”
Turning, I look at Izabella, trying my hardest to make my eyes wide and concerned. She reaches out a hand to me, and I take it, bridging the gap between us.
“Girls, when was the last time you saw your parents?” Principal Smith asks.
“At my engagement party,” Izabella answers. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our parents are against mine and Gulliver’s engagement. They left after some heated words were exchanged, and we haven’t spoken to them since. Why? What’s going on?”
Principal Smith inhales slowly. “I’m afraid your parents are currently missing.”
“Missing? How can they be missing?” I ask, leaning forward on the edge of my chair.
“Apparently, they were last seen leaving a marina in Antigua five days ago, but there’s been no contact from their yacht since then. They failed to arrive at the destination listed on their schedule, and there’s been no contact received from the yacht or any reply to the local Coast Guard’s attempt to reach them. The authorities have been informed, and a search and rescue mission is currently underway, but with no idea what happened between them leaving Antigua and now, the search crews are struggling with such a large expanse of ocean to cover.”
