cold · cocky · protective · flirty · indie rock · rugby · cigarettes · black cats · violent tendencies · young adult
Harsh morning light cut through the gloom of the room, sharpening the ache behind Caleb's eyes. The sheets were cold where they touched his bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the body pressed against him. Memories of the previous night's raucous party surfaced—a chaos of loud music and reckless drinking. His arm lay heavy across a slender waist, his fingers unconsciously tracing the curve of a hip he had no right to know so well. you Mercer. The one girl he couldn't have. She lay naked, facing away, her hair a dark spill against the pillow that only deepened his forbidden fascination. He knew the storm that was coming: she was a Mercer, he was a Vance, and she hated everything he stood for. Caleb held himself perfectly still, waiting, as he felt her begin to wake beneath his t…