Saint

Feeling indignant, I turn and meet his gaze with a glare of my own. We stare at each other for several moments, the silence stretching between us tense and sharp. I refuse to be the first to look away, even though I’m getting increasingly uncomfortable with our staring contest. At last, he releases a huff of indignation and drops his focus to the hand on his desk that he keeps clenching and unclenching

I look toward the front of the room as the teacher begins class, feeling as though I’ve just won some great victory. The feeling is short-lived, however, when not five minutes later, I can feel him staring at me again. I don’t look. I don’t engage. I’m not in the mood to play his head games.

If Liam’s so mad about me and Saint hooking up, then he can take it up with Saint.

I’m done with their swinging dick bullshit.

“Shit, Ellis, you’re quick on your feet.”

I don’t reply, swinging at Gabe as hard as I can. He manages to duck my gloved fist and dances out of my reach. We’ve got another free day in gym, and somehow, I let this asshole convince me to box with him. I think that part of me just saw it as an opportunity to burn off the steam that was still boiling inside me because of Liam’s dumb ass.

Admittedly, Gabe is pretty good, but I’m better. At first, I thought he was holding back, perhaps too afraid to hurt me, but he’s not holding back now. I’ve gotten in multiple hits, and he’s yet to land one. I’m not typically a violent person, but when the participant is willing, it can be pretty damn cathartic to beat the shit out of someone.

I catch him off-guard with a left uppercut that sends him stumbling backwards. He shakes his head, no doubt dazed from the impact, but then he grins at me, his gaze sparkling like he’s having the time of his life.

“Damn, it’s a shame Saint won’t let you join the boxing team,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’d kill it, and I mean, there’s only like five other teams in the country so you’d get to take your hillbilly-ass all over the place.”

I freeze and stare at him in disbelief, my thoughts pinging to the first half of what he said. “What the hell are you talking about?” I demand to know. “Saint’s got nothing to do with it.”

Gabe shrugs and rubs his glove over his sweat-drenched red hair.

“So, the thing is, I asked him if he’d try to talk you into joining the team. You know, since you two are porking now and all.”

My cheeks instantly burn red. I close my eyes for a moment to summon up all the patience I can, then release an exasperated breath. “Okay … so then what happened.”

He hesitates to answer, and I get the feeling he’s afraid I’ll punch him once he says what he’s going to say. “Well, he wasn’t into the idea. Told me he’d tell you no if you decided to join.”

“What?” My blood runs ice-cold in my veins, and I’m overwhelmed with fury. “Why would he think he’d have any voice in the decision?”

Gabe shrugs again. He’s always shrugging, like nothing anyone says to him can really stick, and just rolls off his shoulders like water. “I guess it’s cause you’re his now, and he doesn’t want other guys touching you, or messing up your pretty face.”

I’m going to rip his balls off. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to hunt Saint down and make sure the whole goddamn Angelle line ends with him.

Gabe must be able to read my rage because he takes a cautious step back and raises his hands, like he’s fending off a wild animal. “Now, hold on Ellis, don’t be getting me into trouble—”

I stop listening as I spin on my heel to march out the room. I tear off my gloves and throw them on the floor as I walk out the door, intent on finding Saint and giving him the ass-chewing of the century. Gabe doesn’t try to stop me, which is smart of him.

First, I go look for him in the weight room, where he usually spends our free classes. He’s not there, though, so I storm to the main gym, thinking he might be playing basketball with some of the other guys. No luck. Where the hell could he be?

On a whim, I decide to check the locker rooms, and I head straight to the boys’ side. Since everyone else is occupied with class, I don’t expect to stumble upon any naked peen, so I stalk through the door without hesitating or bothering to knock.

I halt in my tracks when I immediately hear voices. Listening closely, I realize that I recognize both of them. Saint’s sexy deep baritone is low and angry sounding, and it’s broken up by the occasional pathetic whimpers and sniffles of She-Devil herself.

What’s Laurel doing down here?

I make my way deeper into the room, down a row of green lockers, following their conversation. It sounds like a pretty heated argument is going on. I pause at the end of the row and listen in for a moment.

“This isn’t up for debate, L,” Saint growls.

“But … but you can’t do this!” Laurel responds, her tone desperate. “Your father had this all worked out, he wants you to make sure—”

“My father doesn’t control my life. You should know that better than anyone.”

I roll my eyes, realizing their arguing about rich people problems. Likely one of those non-arranged, arranged marriage situations where Saint’s father decided it was the seventeenth century and he’d hand pick his son a wife. Laurel would be the one he’d decided worthy enough to shackle to Saint’s side for the rest of their miserable lives.

Since it doesn’t appear their arguing over a matter of life and death, I step out from my hiding place and clear my throat.

Saint and Laurel both swivel toward me in surprise, but her eyes squeeze into sharp slits the second she realizes it’s me.

“What the fuck are you doing here, welfare baby?”

I ignore her and look up at Saint with what I know is an angry expression. “You and I need to talk.”

“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something right now,” Laurel points out, her tone reaching a new level of nasty.

Saint shakes his head. “Actually, we’re done here.”

She gapes up at him. I can see her eyes begin to water, and I almost feel sorry for her. I hate that.

“But Saint, I—”

“You can go, Laurel. Now.”

She flinches at his harsh tone but doesn’t try to argue further. Turning, she shoots me a look filled with pure venom before she slumps away. I wait until I hear the locker room door close behind her before I begin my rant.

“What’s your problem, Angelle?”

He appears unfazed at my show of temper as he sits down on a bench in front of me.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His casual tone irritates me, and I filter in a deep, cleansing breath through my nose. “Where do you get off, telling Gabe you wouldn’t give me permission to join the boxing team?”

“You know exactly where I got off.” He lets his eyes wander up and down the length of my body, slowly, as if he’s undressing me in his mind right here and now. It flusters me—to the point that my breath grows heavy and my sex clenches under his hot gaze.

I shake my head to dispel the lustful haze he’s trying to trap me in. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not your toy or possession. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do!”

He doesn’t say anything to try and defend himself. Instead, he grabs my hand and yanks me toward him. I stumble, and he pulls me down so I’m straddling his lap. His hands tangle in my hair as his lips seal over mind in a blistering kiss. I clutch the front of his shirt as his tongue invades my mouth, and his hands drop to cup my ass and grind me against him. He’s getting hard beneath me, and I fight the urge to lower myself flush to his cock and dry hump him.