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The blowjob was quick and filthy, embarrassingly easy considering how fast I came. The man probably could have simply looked at me and said the word blowjob, and I would have come for him on the spot after the number of times I’d already fantasized about him today.

As soon as I came down from the orgasm high, I quickly shoved him off me so I could return the favor. I ended up on my knees on the floor between his legs while Vaughn sat on the edge of my bed and leaned back on his hands. The smug smirk on his face only made me want to double down on my effort so he’d come as fast as I had.

“Such a good boy,” he murmured, tilting his head to gaze at me salivating all over his cock. “What you lack in experience, you make up for in enthusiasm.”

I pulled off long enough to mutter, “Fuck off,” before sucking him in again to the point of making myself gag.

“Easy, easy,” he said with a soft laugh, followed by a gasp. “Fuck, that’s good. Just like that.”

I felt the crinkle of his leg hair under my palms as I moved my hands up and down his bare thighs to his smooth hips. The musky scent of him surrounded me, and I wanted it to permeate my sheets until I could sleep drenched in it.

But then I reminded myself I could sleep drenched in him instead. The thought of it, of sleeping with him again, made a happy little humming sound escape my nose.

Something about it niggled at me, and it wasn’t until after he’d come with a grunt and an accidentally too-tight tug of my hair that I remembered our argument from late last night.

About his sister.

And how he thought I’d supposedly fucked with everything she’d wanted.

What did that even mean?

“You’re staring at the wall again. Maybe wash your face, babygirl. Little cold water might help.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

His smirk faded. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “But…” How did I ask him without making him bolt again?

Vaughn’s glare turned dark as he reached gently for my face. “Did. I. Hurt. You?”

“What? I already said no.”

He pulled me up until I was sitting on the bed next to him. “You’re going to need to tell me why you’re suddenly staring into space like you’re fucking catatonic, then.”

He reached out to wipe my lips and face with the T-shirt he’d yanked off earlier. I closed my eyes to enjoy this moment of gentle caretaking before he inevitably barked at me again.

When he pulled the shirt away, I blinked my eyes open. “I need you to tell me about Grace. About why you think I fucked something up for her.”

His face darkened even more. “The Hawthorne Fellowship.”

It was all he said, but it was enough. “Grace applied, too?”

He rolled his eyes but looked away without saying anything.

“I didn’t know. I mean… maybe I did, at the time, but only as one of a list of names. As competition. I didn’t know her. We hadn’t even had any classes together yet.” My brain tried desperately to slot the puzzle pieces together. “She wanted the fellowship.”

I watched him closely, but he only took a careful breath, like he was trying to keep from punching me in the face.

“She…” I finally landed on it, feeling like an idiot for missing the obvious. “She needed it.”

He nodded once.

I hadn’t needed it. Not the scholarship portion, anyway. But I’d wanted it.

I’d wanted to earn access to the internships the Hawthorne Fellowship offered. And I’d wanted to get that access on my own merit, instead of having my father arrange summer jobs for me with his friends.

I’d worked hard on my application and the essay that went along with it. Maybe harder than anything I’d ever worked on in my whole life.