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ChapterThirty-Five
SUNDAY
Professor Moriarty droned on, and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open. The man had a monotone that could have made an erotic novel sound positively boring. Add to that the history of a centuries-long blood feud, and he’d lost me the second his mouth opened.
The only positive thing about the history class was being sandwiched between Noah and Alek. I was overwhelmed by the way their scents seemed to complement each other. Even though I’d made a resolution to stop thinking about anyone other than Noah inthatway. It was one thing to tell myself that and something else entirely to get my body on board.
Apparently, ending my twenty some odd year dry spell had turned me into a thirsty bitch. Noah took excellent care of me, often keeping me up through several toe-curling orgasms well into the wee hours of the morning. And yet, here I was, picturing what it would be like if Alek and I did the same. Or better yet, all three of us.
Stop. It.
I shifted restlessly in my seat, adjusting my torso so I was positioned more toward Noah than Alek. Warm eyes the color of melted honey met mine, Noah’s brows furrowing as he tried to get a read on me. I had my thoughts blocked in the hope I could focus, and even though he’d been teaching me to do it, I could tell he didn’t like the separation.
Long fingers trailed across my wrist and up the underside of my forearm in seemingly mindless patterns. I loved the feel of his skin on mine, the clarity his touch brought me, the feeling of pure connection. We were supposed to be together. I was making the right choice. It was Noah.
Alek’s arm brushed against my back, disrupting my attempt to behave. Almost as if he could sense me trying to keep him in his own little box and refused to play along. I straightened, subtly pulling away only for his thigh to press against mine. As frustrated as I wanted to be, I secretly loved that he was keeping the two of us connected.
Biting back a smile, I glanced at my notes, blinking a few times as the words on my notebook rearranged themselves, my distinctly bubbly print transforming into a much more masculine scrawl.
Alek’s persistence suddenly made a lot more sense.
He’d just passed me a note. Or the Novasgardian equivalent.
My heart stuttered, and my insides turned to jelly as I scanned the words and the two little boxes at the bottom.
Will you go to the dance with me? Check one.
Instead of supplying me with two options, both boxes said YES! in all caps and enthusiastically underlined.
I couldn’t help myself. I giggled. It was ridiculous. And fucking adorable. And exactly what I needed.
“Miss Fallon? Something funny about the pixie genocide of the early 1800s?” Professor Moriarty snapped in his froggy voice. It matched his frog-like face.
“No, sir,” I said, blushing furiously.
Noah’s gaze dropped to my notebook, and he groaned softly. “Oh, come the fuck on, man. How old are you? We’re not in bloody primary school.”
Alek smirked at him over my head. “Old enough to recognize some things are always classic. Aren’t they, Sunny?”
“Classically stupid,” Noah muttered.
“It was sweet,” I corrected automatically, sending Noah’s brows flying upward.
“I see. So I guess it would be a waste of my time to ask you to attend the ball with me then?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
What had started off as an insanely sweet gesture had just turned into my personal torture session. How the hell was I supposed to choose between them? Whoever said having grown men fighting over them was sexy had never lived through the experience. I’d rather swallow a bag of nails than have to make this decision.
My brain knew what I needed to do, mostly thanks to Moira’s terrifying warning, but my heart was of an entirely different mind about the situation.
“Technically, I asked her first,” Alek pointed out, wrapping one of his big arms around my shoulders and tugging me close.
Fury rolled off Noah in waves, and he hadn’t stopped touching my arm since before this started. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound escaped. That only made his anger more palpable as he tried again and failed to respond.
“That’ll be enough from you, Mr. Blackthorne. In fact, I believe it would be best for all parties if you three remained silent and enjoyed my lecture since you seem so desperate to participate.” Professor Moriarty’s wicked smile contrasted with the dry tone of his voice. “The three of you can have your voices back once class is over.”
Snickers rippled through the class, one standing out over all the rest. My gaze landed on Kingston, sitting in the back row, legs spread like the royalty he was named for, a shit-eating grin across his lips.
