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I eyed the shorts and top. “What’s this?”
“Put it on,” he ground out, then turned around.
Like a gentleman.
I almost laughed, thinking he was joking. On my elbows, I did nothing.
He cuffed his arms, head raised. “Do it, or I’ll do it for you.” He eyed over his shoulder. “And you won’t like it.”
My eyes lifted, putting his stupid clothes on. They were of course way too big, and I looked even more of an idiot than I had a second ago. Once I stood before him fully clothed, he turned around. I raised and dropped my hands. “Happy?”
“Actually, no.” He got in my face, not shy about it. He bared his teeth. “I’ll be hap
py when you stop making noise. When you stop getting in my way and fucking with my boys.”
You got to be shitting me.
I directed a finger at the door. “Your boy set me up, dick wad.”
The wrong thing to say.
I knew because he turned the tables around on me.
He whirled me around by the hips, locking me ass-first to that same dresser. His hand braced my throat, and I gasped. “Let go.”
He didn’t.
His hold tightened, and a madness danced about his ebony eyes. Like he was teetering a line of destruction and pain.
“What did my mom do to deserve what you did?” His eyes scanned mine. “What did my mother do to deserve to cry from your noise?”
He was obviously referring to earlier acts, things I did to get to him.
“I didn’t mean to make her cry.” And I meant that. “I didn’t mean to use Bow either. I didn’t mean to do anything to either of them.”
“Then what do you mean to do?” He got up in my face, but he didn’t let go. His irises simmered. “Tell me. What are your intentions, Noa Sloane?”
“Sloane,” I corrected and wouldn’t back down from this jock. I wriggled within his tight hold. “And I’ll do whatever I have to in order to stand up for myself.”
“So, you’re not sorry.” Breath to breath. Scowl to scowl. He was so close I tasted his wintry breath again, cool winds passing roughly over my lips. “For making my mom cry? For betraying Bow?”
Of course, I was. I didn’t mean to upset his mother. I didn’t even know his mother, and Bow was my friend. Of course, I hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
This boy made me do things, got in my head, and I made mistakes I couldn’t take back.
“Fuck you,” I emphasized, and I didn’t care that it was the wrong thing to say. I didn’t care if it set him off. He wouldn’t get his way with me. I shook my head. “You touched me. Tackled me.”
“And like you didn’t like it.” He was too close now. He placed a hand on either side of my face, his dark eyes flaring. “Like you weren’t begging to suck my cock.”
I reared back to slap him, but he caught it. Stupid fucking football player.
“Like you didn’t gag around me,” he heated over my face, my insides churning, my lower lips surging. They buzzed like my clit between them, my thighs hugging together. Dorian wet his lips. “Like you didn’t want to taste me.” He angled forward. “Like you didn’t want me tasting you.”
His chest pressed close to mine, my nipples hard and erect, and as if to make his point, he reached between my legs.
“Dorian…”
He shoved his hand down my shorts, cupping me right through my panties, and I gasped.
