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Part of me is tempted to let the coldness developing between us harden into ice, to tell him he needs to leave so I can get sleep. I do have an early class in the morning.
But I know—somehow, I know beyond any doubt—that we won’t repeat this night again. We both let our guards down too much, and in the harsh light of morning, we’ll realize that.
So before I can think about it too hard, I reach up to kiss Trent once more, crawling onto his body and letting my knees fall on either side of his hips, straddling him.
His cock responds to me instantly, and his hands thread through my hair like he’s trying to shut me up—shut us both up, maybe.
Enough talking.
We only get a few more hours before the spell breaks.
17
West
It’s been a week since I’ve seen Emma anywhere but in class, and I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about her all the fucking time.
I hate it.
We’re about to have a meeting for our Anthropology class, and Trent scheduled us to meet out on the lawn, in the fucking sunshine. That’s not like him at all. I don’t get what’s up with him.
Another strange thing is that he hasn’t changed the time and place back and forth like he did before. He set the location, and he kept it.
“She’s late,” I grunt, looking around the lawn. I keep my expression casual, but I feel like a fucking stalker the way my eyes hunger for the sight of shining blonde hair and pale skin. It’s almost a physical need to see her, like I’m an addict who hasn’t gotten his fix in way too long.
I wish there was some kind of rehab that could break my addiction to Emma, but I don’t think there is. I went months without seeing her after she moved out of Clearwater, and the craving never went away. It didn’t ease with time.
If anything, it got worse.
“It’s not a big deal.” Trent shrugs, and my gaze snaps to him as I narrow my eyes.
What the fuck?
“You’re getting all Zen master on us, aren’t you?” Reese cocks a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been like this all week. Super chill,” Reese makes a face like it should be obvious exactly what he’s talking about. Which, honestly, it should. Something’s up with Trent.
Trent shrugs again, glancing around the quad—and I wonder if he’s working as hard as I did to keep his expression neutral as he searches for Emma. “Just don’t see why I gotta be on all cylinders all the time.”
Okay, what the actual fuck?
Trent always flies on all cylinders, and I’ve noticed this change in him all week, like he’s super, I dunno, peaceful or some shit. Not that I mind, because when Trent really gets going, it can be a pain in the ass—that’s how Reese and I got dragged into his revenge scheme in the first place—but I was anticipating the plan that he came up with last week, about taking Emma down, and it seems like he’s gotten off course.
That’s not okay.
“She’s coming,” I say, spotting Emma walking our way in that damn sundress again. It shows off her perfect shoulders, and I find myself annoyed to no end. I’m also getting hard, which makes me even more pissed off.
“Nicey, nicey,” Reese says with a fake grin. Clearly, he’s still intent on following through with Trent’s plan.
“Hey, guys,” Emma says with a warm smile. She sits down on the lawn, and her dress flies up a little bit as she sits. My gaze zeroes in on the soft, creamy skin of her thigh, and I shift a little to adjust myself. Motherfucker. I hate this.
I’m not a perv or anything. It’s just hard to ignore.
No other girl grabs and holds my attention like this. Half the fucking cheerleader squad could march by naked, tits and asses swaying in as they marched, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. But a few fucking inches of Emma’s pale skin, and I’m about ready to hump my hand right here and now just to get some damn relief.
I don’t like feeling out of control, and that’s all I feel around her. She shreds my self-restraint, and I don’t like it.
