by Jenni Sloane
I shut the door behind me, but I couldn’t make myself go down the stairs, back toward the dorms. Instead I waited, my head throbbing. With shame, with guilt, with the force of my need. I realized for the first time how much I’d wanted to be right. Cole had stirred feelings in me I’d never experienced before. But he wasn’t the only one.
I heard Bennett’s muffled shout behind the closed door. Heard objects hitting the walls of that tiny room, one after another. And without thinking, I turned and strode right back in, slamming the door behind me. He paused, a paperweight in his hand. My body shook, but from desire, not fear.
“Put that down.” My voice was so low, so forceful, even I didn’t recognize it.
“I told you to go.”
“I said, put that down.”
He dropped the paperweight. Stared at me with eyes lit from within. He towered over me, but I wasn’t afraid, even for a second. This time, I backed him up against the wall. I had to stand on my toes to get my lips as close to his as I wanted them. But I grabbed his tie and twisted it around my hand, jerking it suddenly like a leash. “You’re a liar,” I said, my voice some strange combination of growl and purr.
“No.” He shook his head too hard for me to believe him. I gripped his jaw, forcing him look at me.
“When Cole told you to crawl to me that day, you liked it. You wanted to do it.” It was true. I hadn’t understood it then, but I did now.
He let out a growl that almost—almost—turned to a whimper. “Fuck.”
Fuck wasn’t a denial.
“Liar,” I repeated, my voice a whisper.
“No.” A plea.
“You…wanted…to…crawl…to…me,” I jerked his tie between each word.
“Nyyhhh…” He couldn’t even finish the word ‘no.’
“Didn’t you?”
He let out a sound of utter exhaustion—half sigh, half helpless laugh. I squeezed his jaw, and this time, he did whimper.
“Didn’t you, Bennett?” My eyes half closed, my lips drifted toward him.
“Yes,” he breathed.
I closed the gap between us, and his lips met mine with a ferocity that heated every inch of me. I kissed him back, tasting the slightly metallic tang of his bloody lip. I grazed my teeth against the spot and he moaned, but didn’t pull away. My hand released his tie and ran down his broad, hard chest, almost to his waist.
He moved closer, his arms encircling me, making me feel so small. His body has huge, his need evident, but there was something gentle about the way he maneuvered me so that I was no longer trapped between him and the wall.
My tongue flicked against his, and I ran my free hand up through his blond curls. His moan was delectable.
“Stop,” he whispered, pushing at me slightly. “Stop, stop.”
I pulled back, meeting his eyes, which had gone from wild to pleading. “What?” I asked.
“Not like this. I...I…” He flinched, as if he couldn’t quite get the words out. “I want it to be good for you.”
I gazed at him, confusion wrapping me. “This is good for me.”
“I don’t want you to think I just…that I can’t control myself.”
“Well, you can’t.” I tipped my head briefly toward the front of his pants. “Just look at you.” Hard to tell whose shock was greater at the words—his, or mine.
His eyes glazed with fear and arousal.
I let my fingers tighten around a fistful of his hair. “I like it this way,” I whispered against his lips. “And that’s all you have to worry about.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You did what?” Kayle screeched, loudly enough for the whole cafeteria to hear.
“Shhh,” I gestured for her to keep it down. My face was stuffed with garlic bread. Now that Cole and I were in a truce, I was able to eat at mealtimes again. So generous of him.
Kayle leaned forward, her voice barely lowered. “You made out with both of them?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“Amma! I thought you were like…I don’t know. I don’t want to say ‘a prude,’ but—”
“You can say it. I thought I was too.”
“But after all they did to you?”
“This was what I wanted. Proof that they’re into me.”
“But you…I mean, it’s not like you have witnesses. Or like you recorded them. So was it just…”
“Because I wanted to.”
Now that I had a little distance from both make-out sessions, I was at war with guilt and shame. There were moments when I remembered Cole’s lips, or Bennett’s, and felt so fucking powerful. And moments when I remembered and felt like a bad person. A whore. A manipulative bitch. In a split second, I could go from being positive I’d had both boys at my mercy, to positive that they were both playing me. That I was the one who’d been desperate, who’d been led.
But what I’d told Kayle was true: I’d done it, both times, because I’d wanted to.
And so had they, apparently.
Cole hadn’t been under the influence of anything when we’d kissed.
Bennett had willingly drunk the serum before his lips had met mine.
The question was…what now?
“Okay, this is…wow.” Kayle made a mind-blown gesture.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you worried that it’s a trap?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you like them?”
I sighed. “I find them both really attractive.” I waited, studying her expression. She looked like she was holding back whatever she really wanted to say. “I know, okay? Maybe I’m one of those girls who’s drawn to assholes. But I’ve never gotten a chance to be attracted to anybody before. My parents made it sound like sex was bad and like the only person I would ever kiss in my life would be my future husband, and only chastely, as a precursor to having babies…”
“So now you have freedom—well, relatively speaking—and your body’s like raaawwwrrrr?”
I flushed. “I guess so.”
“Well, that’s a good thing to explore,” Kayle said uncertainly. “Just be careful, okay?”
“For sure. It’s not like I expect to do this again. With either of them.”
But I wanted to. More than I would ever admit. I thought about it. Imagines how it had felt. How it would feel to do it again.
When Bennett and I had finally broken apart, we’d both been breathing hard. His face had been flushed pink, his blond hair slightly darkened and plastered to his head with sweat. My school sweater had been askew, and I’d been trying with all my might to avoid grabbing his hand and putting it up my skirt, forcing him to find the place where my need was most pressing. I had wanted to go further. I’d wanted the two of us in bed together, his big arms around my waist, holding me to him as we explored each other’s bodies.
But I’d made myself straighten up and say, “You’re going to stop treating me like shit. Or I’m going to tell everyone how desperate you were to kiss a piece of trailer trash. And a student. Abuse of power, Bennett.”
It was an empty threat. The school itself was one big abuse-of-power orgy, and Bennett could always claim hooking up with me was a prank, or a matter of pity. But I didn’t think that was as big a risk with Bennett as it was with Cole. Bennett wasn’t considered cool. He only had the power afforded him by his position, and whatever protection he got from being Cole’s sometimes-ally. But every time Cole bullied Bennett publicly, there was a uptick in other students doing the same. Most didn’t mess with Bennett because he could administer discipline. But now and then someone gave him an anonymous shove in a crowded hall, or yelled slurs.
So Bennett actually could be at risk, reputation-wise, for kissing me. He certainly hadn’t laughed in my face when I’d made the threat. In fact, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at me with eyes glazed over with lust, until I forced myself to tamp down my own desire and turn away.
“Okay, good.” Kayle seemed relieved. “I just think they’re
bad news.”
“Yeah, me too. I know their bad news. I’m being careful.” What a lie.
We chatted about classes for the rest of dinner. Afterward, I headed up to my room to get ready for rec. I was almost to the staircase when Cole appeared in front of me. He was already wearing rec clothes—a gray T-shirt that brought out the steel in his eyes, and track pants that hugged his ass in a way that shouldn’t have been legal.
“Did you fuck him?” he demanded.
“Excuse me?” I was stunned.
“I asked if you fucked him.” Cole’s eyes were blazing.
A small group of students passed by, and though they glanced at us, they didn’t seem too interested in what was going on.
“Who?” I demanded.
“Don’t play dumb, TT. Bennett.”
“What business is it of yours?”
“So you did?”
“Answer my question. Is it any of your business who I fool around with?” The words “fool around with” sounded strange on my lips. I wasn’t a person who fooled around. But what the hell was Cole getting all possessive for? I mean yeah, I thought about our kiss the other night far more than I wanted to. And yes, I had desired Cole Heller for longer than I cared to admit. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think that one kiss made him mine, or that the kiss had meant anything in particular to him. In fact, I’d expected him to be furious with himself afterward for deigning to put his lips on mine. Not jealous—this was jealousy, right?—of Bennett.
He put a hand on my shoulder—not roughly, but I still flinched. And then that flinch turned into a movement like sinking into a jacuzzi—my body dipped, my head tilted back, and I sighed softly. Since when did him touching me have the power to drive me wild?
“You can’t tell me it didn’t mean anything to you.” He stared into my eyes.
I gulped a breath, needing a moment to clear my head. His scent was all around me, and it was impossible not to feel the coiled tension in his muscles as he gripped my shoulder. I could get drunk on this sensation, on him.
No, no, Amma. Keep your head. Remember what a scumbag he is.
Somehow his lips had come dangerously close to mine. My next inhale was shuddery. I closed my eyes to avoid his, then flashed them open again. The bright, metallic gleam of his gaze pierced me. I placed a hand on his chest as if to push him back, but we both knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do. Instead my hand spanned the left side of his chest so that I could feel the warmth of his skin under his school shirt. The beat of his heart, rapid and strong.
“I won’t tell you that,” I said softly.
“Then what’s going on between you and Bennett?”
Now I did push him back. “What did I just tell you about minding your own business? You don’t own me, and I’m sick of you acting like you do. One kiss does not negate months of torture, Cole. If what happened last night meant anything to you, then I suggest you remember to treat me like a human being, not a toy. Or it will never happen again.
His gaze softened. He looked vaguely pleading. “You’re right. Okay? I’m…I’m sorry. But I just want to know, are you… Do you want us? Either of us?” A longer pause. “Both of us?”
I sighed again. Here’s where I told the truth, and he called me a whore. “What if I did?” I struggled to make my voice audible. “Want both of you?”
I felt his eyes on me for a long time, even though it was hard to meet his gaze.
Finally, he spoke.
“I don’t like to share,” he growled. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just…it’s how I am.” His thumb slid along my shoulder, almost wistfully. “Can I make a case for why you should be mine?”
“What?”
He leaned in and kissed me. Right there in the hall, where anyone could have walked by. I gasped against his mouth. Then relaxed and let the kiss take me. Sparks shot through my chest, burning my heart in delicious little pinches. My spine became liquid, and it was a damned good thing one of his arms had slipped around my waist, or I might have collapsed to the floor.
Our lips parted with a soft sound.
“Tomorrow’s your birthday, right?”
I nodded, dazed.
“Meet me where we kissed the other night. Ten pm.”
“We’ll get in trouble.”
“Go out the back. Gaines is on hallway duty; he’ll be drunk off his ass.”
I nodded slowly.
How could this be happening? How could I be agreeing to meet Cole near those iron gates tomorrow? How could I risk getting in trouble with Callahan? Or risk getting hurt, in every sense of the word?
He squeezed my hand and gave me an awkward but sincere grin. No malice in it at all. “Tomorrow, then.”
I went to detention hungry, my skin on fire, my body desperate. Rominksy was a good arousal-killer, but not nearly good enough. All I could think about was tomorrow.
And Cole.
Chapter Seventeen
Ainslie slept late the next morning and almost wasn’t ready in time for the room check. I hesitated to wake her. I’d been keeping an eye on her the past couple of days. Looking for signs that—like a serial killer—she was desperate to confess what she’d done to me the day of the talent show. I’d considered confronting her. Or, at the very least, freezing her out. But it was so much fun to bewilder her by being my usual self. Acting like I didn’t think she was a psychopath who’d ruined my costume and potentially committed other acts of sabotage the day of the talent show.
But as normal as we’d been for two days, I still had the strange impression that if I woke her—if I made a direct effort to talk to her—I’d get my eyes scratched out.
Finally, I whispered, “Ainslie. Room check.”
She groaned and rolled over, one arm dangling off the bed. “I don’t want to go to the stupid assembly,” she murmured.
The assembly. I’d forgotten all about it. A group of Strathmore alumni were coming to talk about how wonderful their lives had been since graduating, and how we should all bow down and thank our stars that we were here.
I allowed myself a moment of self-pity. I shouldn’t have to deal with an alumni showcase on my birthday.
Then a shiver shot from my scalp to my heels.
Cole.
Cole was going to make his case tonight for why I should be his. Did that mean what I thought it meant? And if so…was I ready? Would I ever be? I’d been raised with such fucked-up ideas about sex. But I wanted this. Wanted him. My parents had been wrong about a lot of things. Maybe they were wrong about God’s stance on sex. Maybe they were wrong about God’s existence. I didn’t know.
Ainslie rubbed the back of her head, making her beach waves ripple. Still sounding half asleep, she murmured, “Isla Sharp’s singing the National Anthem. I can’t stand her. She screeches.”
“Well, get up anyway,” I urged.
“You should sing it.” She was still mumbling groggily. “Your voice is pretty.”
As I shuffled into the gymnasium twenty-minutes later, I kept a lookout for Cole.
I saw Bennett first. He wore a suit—apparently the alumni showcase was a big enough deal that the teachers dressed up—of dark, satiny gray, and impeccably tailored. His blond waves hung slightly over his ears and his nape, like he’d been too preoccupied as of late to get a haircut. The scruff was cute, though.
How anything about Bennett could be cute was beyond me. But there was something puppy doggish about him, in random moments. He’d kissed me so beautifully the other day. We’d both been turned on, frantic with need. He’d claimed me harshly—bruisingly, even—but with care as well. And I hoped I’d done the same for him. I hoped he remembered me.
I sighed, wanting to bury my face in my hands. How could I take things further with Cole if I felt this way about Bennett?
And then, as if everything wasn’t confusing enough, Ian Kemp sauntered into the auditorium. He’d somehow managed to make his school-issue gray slacks hang off his skinny hips like a well-worn pair of
jeans. The sleeves of his navy sweater were rolled up, and his tie was jauntily off-center. He surveyed the crowd without really seeming to see it.
Suddenly, Callahan hurried up to him.
I was close enough to hear Callahan as she told him that Isla was sick and couldn’t sing.
Ian shrugged nonchalantly. “Unfortunate.”
“Will you please do the honors?” Callahan hissed.
“I’m British, love. It’d be a bit odd, wouldn’t it? Singing your anthem?”
“Do not call me ‘love.’” Callahan looked ready to pop.
“I don’t even know all the words.” Ian smiled sweetly.
“You did it for the playoff game last year. I’m sure you can manage again.”
Ian glanced sideways, and I swore his eyes landed on my for a moment. Then his focus was on Callahan again. “If I can do it my way.”
“What does that mean?” Callahan demanded, her bony shoulders twitching.
Ian shrugged again. “It means I talk to the accompanists about key, tempo…nothing terrible.”
“All right, then.” Callahan still seemed suspicious. “Hurry up and talk to them.”
But instead of talking to them, he came over to me. I was still huddled off to the side, not wanting to claim a seat until the school’s alphas had selected theirs. He brushed aside a couple of students who were crowding me…
And got down on one knee.
What the hell?
He looked up at me. The situation was odd enough that people were staring. But he spoke as though I were the only person in the gymnasium.
“I am so, so sorry,” he said. “For what I did the other day. Making you sing in the chapel, and then…the talent show…” He shook his head. “You have a voice like no other. I’m seriously—fuck—just, blown away by it. But I won’t ever try to make you use it again. I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I’m… Okay. What I’m saying is: Since Isla is sick, I would love if you’d join me in singing the National Anthem. I’m not such a great singer on my own.”
I stared at him. His blue-green eyes were clear and earnest. I really did believe he meant it. He wasn’t after my acquiescence. He genuinely wanted me to sing with him. And whether that was because he liked showing off the new prize he’d “discovered,” or because he actually admired me, I didn’t know.