Page 39 of Outcast

“Really?” I rolled my eyes at their shallowness.

“We’d had newbies before, but none of them made an impact. But then you waltz in….” His eyes roamed the length of my body, and he licked his lips. “Looking like a model and putting every sixth former to shame. The girls had to keep you from breaking up the relationships they’d worked so hard to build.”

“Model?’ I spluttered, but warmth flooded my cheeks and the look in Henry’s eyes woke the butterflies in my stomach again. “That’s my Mom, not me.”

He leaned his face closer. “Genetics.”

I drew back, unable to believe his words and the way his saying them made me feel. “What does that even mean? Half the girls in my prep school look better than me. I don’t even wear makeup!”

“Imagine what would happen if you actually made an effort to flirt. Charlotte and her friends wanted to keep you off-kilter because they couldn’t compete. You could have any man in Elder House. Even those like Edward, who considered you a threat.”

My lips trembled. There were lots of pretty girls at Mercia Academy. Charlotte wasn’t even the best looking. Nothing Henry said made sense. “What about you?”

“I don’t find you threatening in the least.” He cupped my cheek and lifted my chin. Our eyes locked again, and for a heartbeat, time stood still. Nothing mattered except Henry and the intensity of his gaze… until he lowered his lips onto mine.

The kiss was soft at first, a slight caress of lips. Tentative, as though Henry was asking permission with his mouth instead of with words. His warm, familiar mint and citrus scent engulfed my senses, and I tilted my head back, parted my lips, silently telling him I wanted more. We’d become so close in the past few days, locked together in the room with only ourselves for company. He was different from his friends, kinder, more humble, relatable, and I could trust him. I needed this kiss. I needed Henry.

With a hum of approval, he threaded his fingers through my hair and ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, making me gasp. All thoughts of the triumvirate, the kidnapping, and even the squalor of the room melted away, and it was just me and Henry and my desperate desire for him to deepen our connection. His tongue caressed mine, the pleasurable sensations sending tingles to my pulsing core. I pressed my thighs together and writhed.

Henry lowered me onto the mattress, resting my head on one of the bundles of jackets we used as pillows. The weight of his body on mine and the arms around my back acted as the blanket of safety and warmth I craved. I ran my fingers over the corded muscles of his neck and arched onto his chest. Somehow, he’d positioned his legs between mine, and now his thick erection ground at my core, sparking bursts of pleasure with each movement. I threw my head back and gasped, then Henry buried his head into my neck, nipping, licking, and sucking at my flesh.

Panting and moaning, I writhed against his hardness, losing myself in a frenzy of pleasure. I dug my fingers into the muscles of his rippling shoulders and shuddered. If he continued like this, I would climax.

“Hobson,” he whispered, voice breathy. “Have you ever?”

The words catapulted me to reality. I curled back into the mattress and examined his flushed features. I dismissed the way his wavy hair curled around his face, framing it like a work of art, and stared into the blown pupils of his verdant, green eyes. If he wanted to ask if I was a virgin, he could spell out the question with words.

With as much deliberation as I could muster, I asked, “Have I ever what?”

He nuzzled my cheek, leaving a trail of kisses and a tingling sensation in his wake. “Have you ever had sex?”

I slapped him hard on the chest. Things were going too far, too fast. ‘If you believe I’ll have my first time with no protection and on a filthy mattress with my worst enemy, you can think again.” I tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. “Get off me.”

Henry drew back, cheeks adorably flushed. “I’m not your worst enemy. That’s Charlotte Underwood.”

I sat up and glared into my lap. How the hell did I go from resenting Henry for doing nothing while his friends bullied me, to rutting against his erection like it was the last dick on earth? This kidnapping had turned my judgment upside-down. A week ago, or however many days they’d kept us here, I would never have even considered flirting with Henry, let alone kissing him.

“Hobson,” he said, still out of breath.

“What?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I snapped, fixing my gaze on his heaving chest. “Did you?”

“I don’t follow.”

I turned to him, heart thrumming, stomach tightening with anticipation. “If we get out of here, and Edward decides to pull another of his stunts, what would you do?”

He paused and drew his brows together. “I’d ask him to stop.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know you before.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and massaged a path of relaxation up my neck. “It’s hard to explain the friends you make at schools like Mercia. We live with each other most of the year, eat, study, and play together. The relationships can run deeper than family. Your friends are the ones who see you through your hardest times, not the housemaster or your parents.”

I tilted my neck to the side, giving him better access. “Go on.”

“When you came, you were a stranger. Beautiful and fascinating, yes, but not someone I’d want to jeopardize a friendship I’d built for over half a decade.”