1642734778_punk-57-pdf

But then I see him throw out his hand, sending the pictures flying all
over the room, falling to the floor and even the bed.
“Oh, my God.” I choke out a laugh and cover my mouth.
“Let the parents sort him out,” Masen says, taking my hand and closing
the door behind us.
I laugh quietly, but I still laugh. I can’t stop. The Burrowes will
definitely know someone was in their house tonight, but judging from the
photos, they’ll probably just assume it’s a disgruntled girl pissed at Trey.
We leave the house, going out the same way we came in, and hurriedly
hop into his truck, looking around to make sure there’s no one around.
The street is dark and quiet, and Masen starts the engine, getting us out
of there.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted.”
He gives me a weak smile. “I got what I want.”
Flutters hit my stomach, and I bring up my hand, running my fingertips
over the top of his hand that’s resting on the console.
After a couple minutes, he pulls up in front of my house and puts the
truck in Park, leaving the engine running.
I sit up and lean over to him, not wanting to say goodnight.
Never wanting him to leave, actually.
“There’s a tree house in the back yard,” I look up at him teasingly. “You
game?”
He smiles. “I would love to. But I have something to do right now,” he
tells me, whispering in my ear.
I feel disappointment, but I brave it and plaster on a flat expression like
I always do.
“Do me a favor, though?” he asks, kissing my cheek slow and soft.
“Make sure the key’s under the pot. And don’t touch yourself tonight. Save