“Good morning, Mr. Royal.” Her lips flatten in a severe line. “Ms. Harper. I think it’s time for you two to go to class.”

I nod again and take Ella’s hand. “On our way,” I assure the frowning teacher. “I’m walking Ella there now.”

Ella and I hurry away from the locker, but I don’t walk her to class like I said. Instead, I turn left at the end of the hall. Once we’re out of Ms. Wallace’s line of sight, I tug Ella into the first empty classroom I find. It’s one of the junior music rooms, completely dark because the heavy gold drapes are drawn shut.

“What are we doing?” Ella hisses, but she’s laughing.

“Finishing what we started back there,” I reply, my hands already landing on her slim hips. “One kiss wasn’t enough.”

One anything is never enough with this girl. I don’t know how I ever lived without her. I mean, I went out with other girls. Slept with a few of them. But I’ve always been picky as hell. Nobody ever really held my interest for more than a week or two, sometimes not more than a day, an hour.

Not Ella, though. She got under my skin the moment I met her, and she’s still there, in my blood, in my heart.

Our lips meet again, and this kiss is hotter than the first. Her tongue is in my mouth and my hands are on her ass, and when she starts wiggling her lower body against my crotch, I lose all awareness of our surroundings.

“C’mere,” I mutter, dragging her to the teacher’s desk.

She hops up, and I instantly move between the cradle of her thighs. Her legs wrap around my waist and then we’re rocking against each other. It’s hot as hell. Even hotter because we’re at school and I can hear footsteps thumping up and down the hall outside the door.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she says breathlessly.

“Probably not. But tell me to stop. I dare you.” I’m not going to have sex with her, but I can’t keep my hands off of her, and I know I can make her feel good. I’m totally putting her first—just not in the way her dad wants. Screw Steve, though.

She laughs again.

I slip my hand under her skirt and wink at her. “Gotta love the easy access.”

That gets me a startled snicker.

“What?” I ask with a frown.

“Don’t worry about it.” She grins widely, then squeaks in pleasure when my fingers find her.

Rather than push me away, she arches into my greedy hand. Her hands are equally greedy, undoing the buttons of my dress shirt.

“Need to touch you,” she mumbles.

I’m not complaining. The feel of her small, warm palms on my bare chest sends a jolt of heat up my spine. We’ve never fooled around at school before, but Steve is making it really fucking hard to see each other outside of it. He hasn’t let me come over to the hotel even once since he moved Ella out of the mansion.

Our kisses get sloppier, more frantic. I slide a finger inside her and groan against her mouth. I want to get her off before class so she’ll be thinking about me all day. Maybe I’ll do it again at lunch, take her to the bathroom that Wade dubbed the Hook-Up Zone and—

The door flies open and light suddenly floods the room.

Ella and I break apart, but not fast enough. The tall, gray-haired music teacher in the doorway gets an eyeful of my hand flying out from under Ella’s skirt. Of my half-open shirt and our swollen lips.

He sighs in disapproval, then snaps, “Fix yourselves up. You’re going to see Beringer.”

Shit.

* * *

The headmaster calls our parents. I’m fuming when Dad and Steve stalk into the waiting room outside Beringer’s office, because, come on. Since when does Beringer call in the big guns over a couple kids making out in school? It happens every other minute. Wade has sex here, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for understanding to dawn on me, though. Because the first thing Steve does after he storms in is shake Beringer’s hand and say, “Thank you for calling me. I feared something like this might happen.”

In the chair beside mine, Ella is beet red. She’s clearly embarrassed, but there’s fire in her eyes, too. Anger. Like me, she knows that Steve is responsible for this. He must’ve warned the faculty to keep an eye out for us.

“Get up,” Steve tells Ella. “You’re coming home with me.”

She bursts out with an objection. “No! You can’t take me out of school again. I’m not missing any more classes, Steve.”

His tone is like ice. “You had no problem missing class before. Francois says you were ten minutes late for first period.”

Ella falls silent.

Dad is unusually quiet, too. He’s watching me with an indescribable expression. It doesn’t look like disapproval or disappointment. I can’t figure it out at all.

“This kind of behavior is unacceptable,” Steve fumes. “This is a place of learning.”

“Yes, it is,” Beringer agrees coldly. “And I assure you, Mr. O’Halloran, these kinds of shenanigans won’t be tolerated.”

My jaw drops. “Really? But letting Jordan Carrington duct-tape a freshman to the front entrance is A-OK?”

“Reed,” my father warns.

I spin toward him. “What? You know I’m right. Jordan freaking assaulted another student, and he”—I rudely gesture at the headmaster—“totally let it slide. Ella and I are caught making out like two normal teenagers and—”

“Normal teenagers?” Steve echoes with a harsh laugh. “You’ve got a plea hearing this week, Reed! You’re facing a murder charge.”

Frustration shoots through me. Christ. I don’t need the reminder. I’m well aware of how screwed I am right now.

Then I register what he’d said. “What plea hearing?” I ask my dad.

His features go strained. “We’ll discuss it when you get home from school.”

“You can discuss it on your way home,” Beringer interjects, “because I’m suspending Reed for two days.”

“What the fuck?” I demand angrily.

“Language,” the headmaster snaps. “And you heard me. Two-day suspension.” He glances at Steve. “Ella can remain at school, if that’s acceptable to you.”

After a long, tense moment, Steve nods. “It’s acceptable. As long as he’s not here, I’m all right with letting her stay.”