Free Until You (Fall Away Series) by Penelope Douglas Page A

good girl. Brushed and flossed. Ironed her clothes.
    And she didn’t do bad things in beds with bad boys.
    She tucked her long, wavy hair behind her ear and pinned me with disdain. “And what disgusting task, pray tell, would you like me to do?” She waved her hand in the air, dramatically, and my blood rushed with how different she seemed.
    She’d gotten smart with me before. And before France, she’d taken some risks.
    But every time, she’d seemed nervous and on the verge of tears. Now, she looked perfectly comfortable, almost as if this was all a waste of her time.
    Good.
    Stepping up my game should be fun. And a welcome distraction.
    Coming to stand in front of her, I felt heat and a familiar sweet ache in my pants.
    Shit. A fucking hard-on right now?
    My dick throbbed in my pants, but I tried to ignore it.
    Yeah, my body was attracted to hers. So what? I was attracted to most things that wore skirts. Or pajama shorts with black hoodies and Chucks.
    My emotions ran wild with Tate, but I knew I couldn’t fuck her. It’d be a cold day in hell before I gave her that kind of power over me.
    But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view, either.
    “Take this off,” I grabbed the hem of her little black sweatshirt, “and give me a lap dance.”
    Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
    And I noticed the more nervous, and not so confident, break to her voice, and it was like music to my ears.
    My gazed firmed up as I challenged her. “I’ll put on Remedy—still your favorite song?—you give me a quick lap dance, and the party’s over.”
    Would I really stop the party? No. There would be no situation where I would actually give her what she wanted.
    And I would enjoy teaching her that fact. I really hoped, though, that she wouldn’t take me up on the offer. Don’t get me wrong. Having her body rubbing against mine wouldn’t suck, but I wouldn’t be able to just fuck her and leave. I walked a thin line with Tate, and I knew I’d want seconds.
    She looked at me for a minute, several emotions crossing her sweetly cruel face. Consideration as she actually looked like she was thinking about it. Then anger when she realized she’d only end up being humiliated. Defeat when she accepted that there really was no win here for her. And loss when sadness crossed her glassy eyes. Not sure what that was about. And then something different.
    Her brow relaxed, and she tipped her chin down, looking up at me.
    Shit.
    I knew that look. I wear it all the time.
    Defiance.
    She twisted around, her hair flying over her shoulder, and my heart skipped a beat as she began shouting throughout my house at the top of her lungs.
    “Cops!” she screamed into the living room. “Cops! Everyone get out of here! Cops coming in the backdoor! Run!”
    Motherfucker!
    I watched, helplessly, as all of the drunk and high idiots hanging out at my house dashed to make their escape.
    What the hell? They actually believed her!
    Heat flared up my neck, and I folded my arms over my chest to keep my heart from jumping out of my body.
    People scattered out of the house, fleeing out of the kitchen and living room and through the front door like there was a fucking fire. Most of them were underage, so they had reason to be on alert, but still? You’d think the stupid shits would at least look around first.
    But no, they just fled.
    And in no time at all, my house was almost empty. Except for the ones already passed out and whoever was hidden upstairs in the bedrooms.
    Blood pumped through my veins like hot sugar, the pain almost unbearable but so mouth-watering that I craved more. Something had changed in her, and now she was challenging me.
    Hell, yes.
    Approaching my target, I smiled and let out a condescending sigh. “I’ll have you in tears in no time,” I promised.
    She stared at me, almost amused. “You’ve already made me cry countless times.” And she raised her middle finger to me. “Do you know what this is?” she asked as she took it