Forever Us: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 5) Read online

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  Contents

  1. Rae

  2. Clinton

  3. Rae

  4. Clinton

  5. Rae

  6. Clinton

  7. Rae

  8. Clinton

  9. Rae

  10. Clinton

  REBEL HART

  Also by Rebel Hart

  Forever Us

  Rebel Hart

  1

  Rae

  I tossed the door open to Clint’s apartment and drew in a deep breath. I never thought the smell of packed boxes and fresh packing tape could ever make me smile, but it did. I looked at the towers of brown cardboard stacked in the corners. For once, I could finally see the carpet of this place. I closed the door behind me and moved into the kitchen in search of a snack. And when the smell of lemon alcohol filled my nostrils, I smiled.

  We were only two days away from moving.

  “All right. Let’s see what the fridge has for me,” I murmured.

  I opened the door and sighed. There wasn’t much. No matter how many times I opened this refrigerator door on a daily basis, nothing seemed to change. No fun snacks appeared. My favorite soda had still run out. There was still leftover chili from two weeks ago. I shivered at the thought. The congealed mess needed to be poured into the garbage disposal.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I whispered.

  I slipped the container out and carried it over to the sink. I held my breath as I popped the top open. Yet, somehow, that still didn’t shield me from the smell.

  “Oh, man,” I wheezed.

  I flipped on the hot water and washed it down the garbage disposal. I turned it on and reached for the soap, squeezing the green apple goodness into the disposal with it. I watched bubbles fill the sink. Both sides of it, actually. And as the bubbles started disappearing, I let out the breath I had been holding.

  “Wow. Okay. Mail time,” I breathed.

  I took my keys and walked back out to get the mail. I needed some time for the wind to blow away the stench sitting strongly in the crook of my nose. After breathing some deep breaths of fresh air, I found my way back inside again. I hung my keys up on the hook by the door and flipped through the endless envelopes of junk, spam, and random bank statements.

  Ugh. I have to call them and tell them we’re paperless again.

  I slipped out a couple of flyers that mentioned something about mortgage rates. Home-owning. How rates for loans were the lowest they’d been in well over a decade. And the sentiments made me smile. I knew all about that kind of stuff. The loans. The percentages. The kinds of homes people were looking for.

  Then I came across an envelope I’d need.

  “You’re going up on the fridge,” I murmured.

  I walked into the kitchen and tacked the envelope onto the front of the refrigerator with a magnet. Our realtor said he’d be sending copies of all the paperwork we had signed in order to make our purchase official. And I needed to make sure I kept track of these documents. I didn’t have a formal filing cabinet to put it in, so the fridge door was the next best thing.

  I’ll get a filing cabinet once we get moved.

  My phone vibrated against my hip and I set the rest of the mail down. It was junk, anyway. Needed to be tossed with the rest of the trash bags full of stuff we had strewn around this place. I slid my phone out and smiled. Even now, every time I saw him calling I got chills on the nape of my neck. I answered the phone and put it to my ear. My body readied itself for his voice.

  For the soothing, wonderful voice that had gotten me through so much as a teenager.

  “Well, hi there.”

  He chuckled. “Hey there, beautiful. You home from work?”

  “I am. Just walked in a few minutes ago. And before you ask, I finally took care of that chili. I know you must be proud.”

  “Proud as a papa. But I have some bad news.”

  I paused. “Everything okay?”

  “The cover designer for my novel ran over our meeting time by about thirty minutes. I’m just now leaving.”

  “And you’re still halfway across town.”

  “Yep.”

  “Any accidents in your way?”

  “You know how it goes. One minute we’re good and the next, we’re delayed another thirty minutes.”

  I made my way into our bedroom. “Well, was it at least a productive meeting?”

  “More or less. We settled on a cover, so that’s a good thing.”

  “Should I even ask about the rest of it?”

  “Let’s just say the cover designer is a talker. And not always about things that matter. Ever.”

  I giggled. “Oh, you poor thing. Sounds like you need some Chinese.”

  He snickered. “We had that last night. And three times last week.”

  “And it sounds like you could use it again tonight. You know, before I get to packing more boxes. I need energy for that, you know.”

  He chuckled again. “Why don’t you wait for me to get home and we can pack up those couple of boxes together?”

  “That depends. Will you pick up Chinese on the way home?”

  “What makes you think I wasn’t already going to do that anyway?”

  I kicked off my shoes. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

  “Eh, so I’ve been told.”

  I barked with laughter. “All right. Hopefully I’ll see you sooner rather than later. Want me to go ahead and place our order so it’s ready once you get there?”

  “If you could do that, it would make my day.”

  “Consider it done, handsome. I fervently and anxiously await your arrival.”

  “Nice use of words. I’ll have to put that in a book somewhere.”

  I slipped my panties down my legs. “See you soon.”

  He blew me a kiss. “See you soon, beautiful.”

  After blowing a kiss back, I hung up the phone. It took me no time at all to place an order for Chinese. Especially since we got the same thing every single time. Vegetable lo mein and crab rangoons for me; orange chicken with white rice and three egg rolls for him. They practically knew us by heart. If we walked in, the woman at the cashier knew exactly what to ring us up for. If we called and someone recognized our voice, they’d simply recite our order to make sure that was what we wanted.

  We’ll have to get a new Chinese place when we move.

  I tossed my phone onto the bed and took off the rest of my clothes. I was ready to get comfortable. Ready to get into a nice pair of pajamas and relegate myself to another evening of Chinese, packing, and snuggling with Clint. I reached for my flannel pajama bottoms tossed over a chair in the corner and hopped myself into them before rummaging around for one of Clint’s shirts. All these years later, and I still loved wearing them.

  I didn’t quite get it over my head, though, before my stomach jumped.

  “What the--?”

  My body contracted and I took off running, with Clint’s shirt dangling around my neck as I rushed into our bathroom. I shoved the door open with my shoulder and fell to my knees in front of the toilet. And as the searing pain of my kneecaps trickled up my thighs, I vomited into the toilet.

  “Holy shit,” I gurgled.

  I groaned over the toilet bowl. My stomach rebelled against my exis
tence as it jumped into my chest. It was like my body hadn’t digested anything from the day. And suddenly, my head began to spin. I closed my eyes, willing the nausea to go away.

  Come on, I thought we were done with all this.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time I’d been suddenly sick. It had happened on and off for the past two weeks. I sighed as I sat down, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand before wiping my hand off on a towel on the floor and placing it against my forehead. My neck. My cheek. Trying to see if I was running some sort of fever. Maybe I was exhausted. Burning the candle from both ends. Maybe this was my body’s way of telling me to slow down. Or maybe the excitement of the move was finally getting to me.

  “Or maybe not,” I whispered.

  I slowly opened my eyes. It wasn’t possible, right? I mean, Clint and I had been careful. Very careful, in fact. I crawled over to the bathroom cabinets, opened them up and started rummaging through them. Did I have a spare pregnancy test available? Clint and I had a scare a couple of months ago. Maybe I had one of those tests left.

  I didn’t find one.

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  If Clint saw me on this bathroom floor, he wouldn’t stop until he knew what was wrong. So I pulled myself up, gargled with mouthwash, and forced myself back into the living room. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind--and my stomach--off some things. Even though I told Clint I’d wait, I finished packing the box of fragiles I started last night. I wrapped up a decorative vase his stepmother had gotten me for graduation. I reached for a picture still hanging on the wall of us standing with the acceptance letter from the publishing company regarding his novel. I smiled as I ran my fingertips across the photo. I remembered that day. Clear as crystal. How excited Clint had been. How proud I was of him.

  How proud I still am of him.

  I placed the picture into the box and reached for the clear container at the bottom. A very unceremonious way of storing pictures. But I hadn’t yet gotten actual photo albums to slip them into. I sat on the couch and smiled as I popped off the top. Pictures from our high school graduation floated around. Clint and Michael hanging all over one another. Me and Allison hugging each other tight. The four of us jumping into the air. Throwing our graduation caps around before flashing tongues and peace signs for any camera that snapped a picture of us.

  Then I found our travel pictures.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I giggled.

  I pulled out a picture of Clint posing in front of the Parthenon. Beneath it was a picture of me at the Temple of Apollo in Pompeii. There was a picture of the four of us standing in front of the Tower of Pisa. All of us smiling and hugging one another.

  It would be wonderful to see everyone again after we got moved.

  Especially Mom.

  “Honey! I’m home!”

  I giggled as I placed the pictures back in the container.

  “I smell Chinese,” I said.

  “They also threw in a small cup of that tea they make that you like so much.”

  “You mean that tea that makes you heave?”

  He snickered. “Yep. So, if you want any kisses now, get ‘em while they’re hot.”

  I smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  I placed the container back in the box as Clint made his way for me. He set everything down just as I stood and his arms cloaked my entire body. I felt his hands roaming down my back. Our lips collided as his hands gripped my ass, giving it a soft squeeze. I smiled against his lips and he chuckled as his tongue slid along my lips. Every time he kissed me, I felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around. On the brink of getting into trouble. Ready for action, no matter the time or place.

  “Mmm, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he murmured.

  I nuzzled my nose against his. “Me too.”

  “And as much as I’d love to continue this little thing we’ve got going here, I’m going to need some energy before that happens.”

  “Too much to handle for you, hot stuff?”

  He growled playfully. “Never.”

  I laughed before he captured my lips, muting my sounds. Then he picked me up and carried me into the kitchen. He sat me on the edge of the counter, his hands sliding up and down my thighs. I felt myself warming for him, gravitating to him. It had been such a long day to wrap up one of the longest weeks I’d had in a while.

  And suddenly, my body wanted nothing to do with the food he’d brought home.

  “You want some wine to go with this food?” Clint asked.

  I paused. “Actually, I’m thinking about sipping that tea with dinner.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to turn down wine. You feeling okay?”

  “You calling me a lush, Mr. Clarke?”

  “And what if I am?”

  I slipped my arms around his neck. “Why, I’d take offense to it before telling you I’m simply not feeling like wine tonight.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “What are you feeling like, then?”

  I grinned. “Why don’t you come back this way and find out?”

  His smile grew wolfish as his eyes hooked with mine. His hand migrated into my hair, fisting it in the way only he could. I sighed as he pulled my head back slowly. His tongue licked up my pulse point, making me shiver. The smell of Chinese faded into the background, replacing itself with the smell of Clint’s cologne, his musk, and the scent of his breath as his lips found their way to the shell of my ear.

  “I love it when you wear my clothes,” he whispered.

  And whatever sickness my body still held on to slipped away as his lips kissed my skin.

  2

  Clinton

  She tasted like mint and coffee. A smell I had attributed to her very quickly as we had grown together. Her curves had only grown thicker over the years. And my palms loved them. I slid my hands up and down her thighs, feeling her melt into me as my tongue stroked along the roof of her mouth. I’d missed her all day. I mean, I missed her every day I was away for meetings. But today had been different.

  Today, I’d practically longed for her.

  “Mmm, Clint.”

  I grunted. “Bed. Now.”

  She wrapped her legs around me and tightened her arms around my neck. I lifted her with ease, my muscles flexing to accommodate her. The bigger she grew, the stronger I grew, my body always morphing to take care of hers. I loved the way her hips had blossomed in college, the way her curves had thickened with the food from our travels all those years ago. Our tongues did battle as I charged us down the hallway, eager to bury myself between her legs.

  Eager to make love to the woman that had changed my life.

  “Oh, Clint.”

  I tossed her to the bed, watching with wild eyes as her body bounced.

  “I’ve got just what I want for dinner right here,” I growled.

  Our clothes came off in a flurry before I pounced. I jumped onto the bed, pinning her with my body against the mattress. Our fingers threaded together. Her lips caught mine as her naked breasts pooled against my chest. I felt her curves filling the divots of my muscles as she rolled against me, stroking my cock with her wet pussy. I slid my teeth against her skin, nibbling along her breasts, feeling them bounce with every jump. She released my hands, preferring to run hers through my hair as I marked her body.

  All the way down to her knees.

  “Clint, please.”

  I slipped her legs over my shoulders. “Please what?”

  I nibbled at the dollop of excess at the top of her inner thigh, watching as she gasped and jumped. My aching cock wanted nothing more than to be buried inside her, where I had found my home a very long time ago. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t give a shit about this house. Or where we ended up. Or where we shared the rest of our years. I had learned a long time ago that a place wasn’t a home. A structure wasn’t a home. A neighborhood wasn’t a home.

  Rae, however, was home to me.

  And no matter where we went, it wo
uld always feel like home if I had her.

  “Please, please, please, please,” she begged.

  “God, I love that sound so much.”

  I lapped up her slit and watched her back arch. I took in the way her skin reddened. The way her nails raked along my scalp. I sucked her swollen clit between my lips and felt her buck with a resounding movement that almost knocked me off the edge. I chuckled as I scooted her up until her beautiful hair splayed against the pillows. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and pulled her even closer. And as my mouth opened to swallow down her offerings, my tongue flicked her clit.

  Over and over.

  Until she fell apart against me.

  “Clint! Yes!”

  I growled. “That’s it. Come for me, beautiful.”

  “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I’m coming. I’m coming. Clint, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  She shivered and shook. I held her close to me as her hands slid down my neck. I pressed my tongue deep against her swollen nub, causing her to gasp. I smiled as her back collapsed against the mattress and nuzzled her throbbing pussy lips with my nose as her hands untangled the knots she had created.

  And as I languidly kissed up her body, I readied myself.

  “I love you,” I murmured.

  She cupped my cheeks, pulling my lips down against hers.

  “I love you, too. So much,” she whispered.

  I lined myself up with her entrance. My gaze held her stare as she moaned with anticipation. I eased myself in, teasing her with just the tip. But it didn’t take her long for her to raise her hips and engulf the whole of me.

  Causing my eyes to widen.

  “There we go,” she moaned.

  I grunted. “Fuck.”

  Her nails curled against my skin. “Make love to me, Clinton Clarke.”

  My forehead fell against hers. “Don’t mind if I do, Raelynn Cleaver.”