My appetite suddenly gone, I pushed my lentils around on my plate.
“How’s school going?” he asked. “You get that Chicago landscape report turned in?”
I was so shocked, I almost dropped my fork at the question. It wasn’t just that he was making an attempt to talk to me at all, or even that it was about school—something he knew I’d have no problem babbling on and on about—but that he remembered my big report and cared enough to see how it had gone. Or at least, he was pretending to care.
“I did,” I said. “My group got an A.”
“Hmm,” he said. “You did well. Not that I’m surprised.”
A rush of pride radiated through me, and I felt angry at my body for betraying me yet again. It was infuriating that he could so easily pretend that everything was fine—when he was fully aware of the danger I’d been in on Friday night. And what gave him the right to sit here and ask me about my school work? The last time we’d had any kind of normal conversation was before everything had gone to shit, before I’d realized what Stefan and Konstantin and the whole KZ Modeling enterprise was really up to. Were we going to pretend none of it had happened?
Was this his way of trying to get us back to some semblance of normalcy, or was he just lulling me into a sense of safety and complacency so he could hurt me again? I didn’t trust him.
“Your other classes are going okay?” he asked. “Midterm exams are coming up, right?”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, staring down at my plate.
“Those late-night study sessions paying off?”
I cleared my throat. Was this a jab at my friendship with Gavin, or the amount of time I spent with my other school friends?
“Yep,” I said, keeping my response short and curt. I continued pushing my uneaten food around my plate, unable to remember the last time I’d been so uncomfortable around someone.
“I’ll bet Professor Dhawan is going to miss having you in class,” he said.
I just nodded this time. My eyes had drifted upward of their own accord, following Stefan’s strong arms to his capable hands and beautiful mouth.
There was something so sexy and magnetic about him that I was even turned on watching him eat, unable to tear my eyes away. He seemed to savor his food with a focused pleasure that reminded me of the intensity he’d brought to the bedroom.
My body still craved his. Wanted him desperately. Wanted him now.
It was sick and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself, the way I responded to his presence.
The room was still full of tension, but it had shifted. It wasn’t just frustration or anger or fear. There was something more potent there. Repressed and highly charged sexual tension. It was so strong, I tightened my grip around my silverware as if I could squeeze it out of me.
Stefan’s eyes followed the gesture, but his expression didn’t change. If he was worried that I might do something with my knife, he didn’t show it, but I doubted he ever worried when it came to me. Not when he was so fully aware of the power that he had over me.
I gave up on trying to eat and pushed my chair away from the table.
Whatever he was doing right now—with the food and the small talk and the feigning interest about my classes—it had to be an act. He wasn’t really interested in hearing about my schoolwork. He wanted something from me. I just didn’t know what.
He looked up at me and our eyes locked. My heart leapt in my chest. Those eyes of his. So green. So intense. I was equally aroused and frightened.
I quickly broke our gaze. “I need to go study.”
“Such a hard worker,” Stefan said. “Always got your nose in a book. Sometimes it’s good to give yourself a night off, though. You know what I mean?”
He smiled.
“Yeah…” I said.
Narrowing my eyes, I picked up my plate. Was he fucking with me? Was this his way of trying to get me to admit something about Friday night, or about Gavin? Or was he trying to figure out if I knew that he’d caught me when I was out at the club—and had dragged me home when I was passed out? I felt like I was losing my mind. Like he was gaslighting me on purpose.
Bringing my dishes to the kitchen sink, I decided that I was done with this farce. If Stefan planned to stay in tonight, so he could corner me into awkward, stilted conversations and scheme against me all the while, then I would have to leave. There was no way I could stand to be in the same house with him anymore. Not like this. I needed space to think. To breathe.
My lingering confusion about Friday night made me too uneasy and nervous to stay home while Stefan was here. Not that my body seemed to care about my concerns. I still wanted him. Wanted to finish unbuttoning his shirt, sliding down to my knees as I tugged down his pants. I missed the feel of his strong, sure hands on my bare skin. The feel of his body against mine.
I tried to push those feelings away.
