Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 20: Jake

Sometimes being an asshole comes in handy.

I never fell for spam, telemarketers, or robo calls. The car I still drove was my high school beater but even at Dad's dealership, my sixteen-year-old self hadn't settled for a purchase price that wasn't a fair deal. During high school, I was never bullied and my fists meant no one, at least at Santa Cruz High, looked at my sister. Breakups, or at least rejections, were like second nature.

Which now includes Brit.

Her blue-gray eyes clouded over with confusion, candy-pink lips parted, and a shrill, eardrum-splitting, glass-breaking, half-scream, half-shriek blasted me like a shock wave.

"Wuuhhhhhyyyyyyy Babes!?"

My right hand's index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of my nose as I mentally prepped the gentlest way to explain how our breakup was beyond necessary.

Don't say Harper, don't say Harper...

I nearly nut in my shorts at the sight of Harper's torn-up appearance. While I knew she wasn't a morning person, nearly bare sleep clothes was the last way I'd expected she looked on her first day of class. The sight brought momentary flashbacks when I'd seen her like this and, with one look at her, my gut clenched tighter as I remembered how many Saturday mornings we slept together while her dad worked early.

Now though, tension strained through my body until every muscle felt wrenched tight as I internally fought between the options that I hauled her over my shoulder straight back to my bedroom or kissed her right on the spot so that every fucking person on this campus knew she was off-limits.

Obviously braless, Harper's breasts jiggled like a wet dream in her black tank top sleep shirt with each step of her long legs. When I pinned her against a campus building for more privacy, slight amounts of green appeared in her light blue eyes as she glared up at me, just how I liked them. Her nipples even poked through the thin material like a double extended handshake that all ten of my fingers twitched at for contact, but I settled for my hands palmed into the rough brick behind her. The low-cut dip in her V-neck gave me a glimpse of the skin that trailed between those breasts that heaved with her elevated breaths and fuck, I wanted in.

Harper's face was completely absent of makeup, with her blonde freckles and lighter lashes as plainly visible as the pink flushed across her cheeks and her normally straightened hair was pulled up into a tight bun. I forcibly clenched my fists tight because all my thoughts went straight to how I ripped it loose, tangled her hair in my hand, and took what I wanted.

My lips smashed against hers for the first of many times.

However, I was more than painfully aware of how enraged Harper was just at the sight of me. Her chest swelled up with a deep breath, the pink deepened across her cheeks, then spread down her neck and splayed over the visible part of her chest. Her light, clear eyes blazed like an inferno ignited inside them and her bare, pale lips wrenched sideways into her right cheek like she'd bit down on the inside.

I was beyond aroused at the sight of angry Harper and all of the suggestive ways we worked that aggression out of her flooded my mind while I remembered why I was at UCLA and snatched up her phone.

First things first.

Harper's anger boiled up to the surface of her restraint limits as fast as my fingers moved while I unlocked her phone courtesy of how well I knew her password was the four digits associated with her favorite swear word, unblocked my number, then left her a particular reminder message so she didn't block me again. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on her hairline while one her hands clawed at my arm for her phone. While Harper had gotten the junk grab move on me before, I saw it coming and blocked her other hand she reached down for a genital advantage.