Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series Callie Rose (i read a book TXT) 📖

room. It’s big and luxurious—they didn’t cut corners just because it’s in the basement—but it also has touches that are all River. There are a few cool looking art prints on the walls, and a large bed tucked into one corner. On the other side of the room, there’s a couch, an easy chair, and a coffee table arranged around a wide flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

There are two other doors in the room, one that’s halfway open and seems to lead to an en suite bathroom, and one that I’m guessing leads to a closet.

Not quite sure what to do and feeling a little like an intruder, I head toward the couch and sink down onto it. It’s nice, the seat cushions soft but not too squishy.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Hunter, wondering if I should mention what happened between me and the kings of Linwood last night. It’s hard to explain though, and it’s definitely not the kind of thing you just tell someone in a text. If we were still living in the same town, this would be a late night, pint of ice cream conversation, where I’d spill all the dirty details and she’d grill me for even more.

It’s not the same by text, or even by phone.

She hasn’t replied yet by the time River comes back. He opens the door and pokes his head in cautiously, like he’s trying to make sure I’m decent before he steps inside. Like this isn’t his space I’m invading.

“Thanks,” I say once his gaze settles on me. “For letting me stay here. It probably won’t be for too long.”

“It can be for as long as you like,” he says without hesitating. Then he closes the door behind him and steps closer, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “You told him.”

I nod. “Yeah. I hope he’s not mad at you for not saying anything sooner.”

He tips his head back and forth in a noncommittal gesture, and I have a feeling Lincoln definitely gave him some shit for that. But I don’t think it opened up a real rift between them. I already told Linc my reasons for not mentioning my suspicions about his dad before, and he might not like it, but he knows we did this for him.

“Do you really think he’ll be able to keep his shit together?” I whisper, concern filling my voice.

River nods. “Yeah. You played poker with him. You know. He wears his heart on his sleeve, but he can keep shit close to the vest when he needs to. You gotta trust him, Low.”

“I do,” I say immediately.

“And you trust me?”

His gray-blue eyes are serious, and I have a feeling his question isn’t just about the stuff with Linc’s dad, or my mom, or Iris’s death.

It’s both bigger and smaller than that, and it has to with just the two of us.

I hold his gaze, nodding gently. “Yeah. I do, River. I really do.”

The smile that breaks over his face comes out in stages, and I register each one of them until I find myself grinning back at him, unable to contain it.

17

River insists on taking the couch and letting me have the bed, though I put up a lot of resistance. I already feel like a fucking charity case, moving from one house to another with nowhere else to go. If I took the couch, I’d at least feel like I was inconveniencing him a little bit less.

And okay, maybe a tiny part of me wishes he’d stop being such a damn gentleman and suggest we both take the bed. I’m having a hard time looking at him and not thinking about the kisses we shared in the pool last night, in what was inarguably one of the hottest moments of my life.

I pause in the middle of brushing my teeth as heat floods my lower belly, staring at myself in the mirror.

Jesus. I can still feel him. All of them.

Lincoln and I couldn’t get enough of each other last night. We wore each other out, and I’ve been pleasantly sore between my legs all day, but the intense feelings that sparked to life in that pool haven’t abated. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

Get it together, Low.

I finish brushing my teeth and splash cold water on my face, trying to banish the flush creeping up my cheeks.

When I step out of the bathroom, River is draping a blanket over the couch. He glances up at me and smiles softly, and I wonder if he feels as strange as I do.

I don’t feel awkward, exactly. I’ve been alone with River before. And we know each other pretty well by now—better than we should for how long we’ve been in each other’s lives, really. But it feels a little weird to be in his bedroom, in my pajamas, having just brushed my teeth in his bathroom. To see him in his soft white t-shirt and dark shorts. So… casual. So at home.

That’s what it is, I realize.

I’m in his home. In his living space.

And it feels sort of like we jumped ten spaces ahead on the board to get here.

Trying to act natural, I cross to the bed and pull back the covers, sliding in between the sheets. They’re soft, and they smell like River, and it makes something in my chest and my core throb at the same time.

River disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes—he let me go first, because of course he did—and I hear the water running as he brushes his teeth. When he returns, he flips the light switch on the wall to turn off the overheads, leaving only the bedside lamp to illuminate the room.

When he walks toward the bed, I swear my heart beats harder with every steps he takes.

“I’m just gonna steal one pillow, is that okay?” he asks in a quiet voice.

I nod and shift on the bed, allowing him to grab one of