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“Yeah. You can.” I’m glaring at him, and I know I should thank him, but anger and confusion override any gratitude I should be feeling right now. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“Would you have preferred I didn’t?” he asks dryly. “Did you want to get kicked out of school? If you’d like, I can go back to Dean Wells right now and tell him—”
“You fucking asshole.” I shove at his chest. “That’s not what I meant, and you goddamn well know it.”
I can feel his muscles go taut under my palms, and his jaw tightens. His blue-green eyes flash. “You want to stay here, Sparrow? Then just take the win and leave it alone.”
That’s exactly what I should do.
I know that.
There’s something roiling under the smooth surface of Gray’s facade, and whatever it is, I’ve got a feeling it could prove very hazardous to my health. To my heart.
r /> But I’ve just never been the kind of girl who backs down.
Curling my fingers, I fist the front of his shirt and take a step closer to him, my heart thudding erratically in my chest.
“Tell me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Tell me why you did it.”
His pulse is racing almost as fast as mine. I can feel it against my hands as I clutch at his shirt. For a second, we’re frozen like that, practically nose-to-nose as he drops his head and I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.
Then he groans, a low sound that I feel vibrate in his chest before the sound ever reaches my ears.
“Goddammit, Sparrow. You really don’t know how to take a fucking hint, do you?”
Before I can respond to that, he kicks his door open and hauls me into his room, yanking my messenger bag from my shoulder and dropping it on the floor.
The door slams shut a second before my back hits the heavy wood and Gray’s lips come crashing down on mine.
His fingers are in my hair, tugging at the strands as his body pins me against the door. He kisses me like he’s trying to shut me up, or maybe like he’s trying to tell me something. It’s hot and hard at first, desperate and crackling with tension as his lips descend on mine over and over again.
I lose myself in it like I always do, knocked over and dragged out to sea by the tidal wave that engulfs me.
My teeth nip at his lips, wanting to taste him. Wanting to hurt him. Wanting to claim him.
For several long minutes, our bodies battle each other against the door, as if this kiss is just a continuation of our fight.
But then something shifts.
The heavy weight of Gray’s body softens against mine, and the hands in my hair ease their tight grip. His fingertips slide down to trace the line of my jaw gently as our kiss deepens and slows.
He probes my mouth with his tongue, sweeping inside deeply as he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat—almost a sigh.
I’m unprepared for the sudden change, and I try to hold on to my fury, try to let it feed my desire for him like it always does. But when he breaks the contact of our lips to press little kisses over my cheek and jaw and throat, I find the tension bleeding from my own body too.
Gray licks a line up my neck and then blows on it softly, making my toes curl as goose bumps fan across my skin. His teeth find the spot where my neck and shoulder meet, but even the way they scrape across my skin is gentle and deliberate.
As if he’s decided he’s not going to let us rush this.
His large palms slide over my shoulders and down my arms before catching my wrists, then he brings them up and pins them to the door beside my head. The wood is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of Gray’s skin, and I watch him intently as he takes a step back.
“Don’t move,” he tells me, and I don’t.
My arms, legs, and torso are all plastered to the door, and Gray runs his gaze up and down my body as I stand perfectly still, letting him look all he wants. A pleased, hungry smile steals across his face, and he reaches for the hem of my shirt before tugging it off over my head. I slide my arms up the door to help him, but I keep them pinned to the smooth surface over my head.
He seems to like that even more, and the heat in his gaze intensifies as he moves on to the button and zipper of my jeans, working them down slowly before pushing the material off my hips. He focuses on one article of clothing at a time, ridding me of my pants and shoes before moving on to my bra and finally kneeling before me to slide my underwear down my legs.
All the while, I still haven’t moved.
