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I end up detouring to the dining hall to grab myself an apple on the way to class. My stomach is queasy from the swirling nerves, but it is decidedly empty and with the mess of my mind today, I don’t want to be harassed by a grumbling belly too.
Never been one to skip free meals, I beeline for the kitchen staff to get an apple and request a large coffee with a double pump of caramel sauce, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles. The look they levelled on me was something like that of an insane person, but minutes later there was an apple in my hand, along with a steaming travel mug of sugary goodness.
After my first sip, I feel my world tilt back on axis. On the second, the fog in my brain clears up. At this point, I’m positive by the time I reach the bottom I’m going to be able to eat my apple. Small wins. I lick the cream off my top lip while walking out the doors and get out my phone. I follow the little location dots, a little smug about how quickly the program worked, and set out for the worst class of my day, world history.
I take a seat a few rows from the back, trying not to draw attention to myself but also not wanting to advertise just how much I’m going to struggle in this class. The professor hasn’t arrived yet, but as I’m setting up my tablet and textbooks, I can feel the change in the air as other students filter in around me. The idle chatter dies to whispers, and the giggles of the girls who look over at me is fringing on asinine.
Rolling my eyes and deciding this is no big deal I get on with setting myself up. Putting the apple on the corner of my desk, pull up the lesson plan and open my textbook to the recommended reading chapter and begin in on it again.
The scrapping of the chair beside me pulls my focus and I turn, smiling brightly expecting the body that’s dropped in beside me to be Peyton. I’m wrong, and instead am met with the beautiful grey eyed man from my dorm yesterday slung into the chair, looking like he has not a care in this world. In fact, he yawns and then grimaces, like being awake at 8am on a Monday morning is criminal, slumping low with his legs spread wide.
His hair is tousled like he’s just rolled out of bed, which based on the slight rumple in his uniform, may be about right. If I thought he looked hot yesterday, he looks fucking devastating in his uniform. The blazer hugs against his shoulders emphasizing how broad he is and the way the sleeves are tight around his biceps make me think that one decent flex and the seams will come apart.
The gunmetal of the uniform highlights the silver tones in his eyes, and with how close he is I can see a light dusting of freckles just under his eyes. If I weren’t looking at him so intently, dissecting every sexy little thing about him, they wouldn’t be noticeable since they blend almost perfectly against his tanned skin.
There are black lines peeking out over his shirt, curling up over the little exposed around of his chest and side of his neck. I trail the tattoos with my eyes, moving lower as if I concentrated hard enough, I would be able to see where they begin and end on his body.
More ink coats over one of his wrists where the sleeve has pushed up enough for me to see. His hand is resting on his thigh, and when I see that he’s followed my line of vision and flashes me a shit-eating grin, I realise it looks like I’m checking out his dick.
The memory of what he was doing with said dick yesterday brings heat to my cheeks, and I curse myself out viciously in my head as I revert my eyes back to my tablet. I clear my throat to try clear the lust haze and carefully lick my bottom lip to check that I wasn’t drooling. I am impressed when my voice comes out strong instead of the throaty, needy like feeling swirling inside me.
“Something I can help you with?”
His arm slings over the back over my chair and the teasing smirk he throws my way is downright dangerous and has me imagining an array of dirty and wicked things. It’s abundantly clear that this guy knows he’s a walking wet dream and wields that power to his advantage. He moves in closer to me, until his chest is pushed up against my shoulder. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine and I swallow hard to try shut that shit right down. His breath is hot against my ear as he continues to lean in, until I can feel a whisper of a touch of his lips as he murmurs to me.
“Nash is still pissy about what you did yesterday, new girl.”
His voice is the sound of dark chocolate and malt liquor. All smooth tones filled with bite. The type you want whispering depraved things in your ear, not telling you that someone has their panties in a bunch. I’m not entirely sure who Nash is, but an educated guess has me believing he’s the jerk-off that I pushed over yesterday. Why would I care that he’s pissed? I’m still pissed! I had to walk around in soaked boots way longer than is acceptable, and I had to parade around in muddy clothing in a university of rich, pretentious assholes.
“We were up last night brainstorming the best way to punish you. But the decision was easy, really.”
He runs his bottom lip against the shell of my ear before taking it between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite. My heart pounds inside my chest as my breathing becomes heavier. That needy feeling skyrocketing up inside me. I know I should push him away. He’s talking about hurting me for fuck sakes, but apparently some part of me must be inherently broken because the moment he threatened to punish me, I felt my wetness flood my panties.
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Desire dripping with every word that falls out of my mouth and I know he hears it. I’ve never felt so hot in my life as I do right now, for this man that I literally do not know from a bar of soap, but the tingles that skate over my skin have me captive.
He doesn’t respond straight away. He lifts his palm and trails it over the patterned skirt on my thigh, inching higher. His nose runs a line down my neck before he’s retracing the same path with the tip of his tongue.
“We’re going to feed you to the wolves.” His voice is breathy, and it sounds like he’s just as affected by this little display he’s putting on as I am.
I move away from him just enough that I can turn my head and glare at him. His eyes are blown out, the iris almost completely immersed in black. His lips are parted, and I can feel the heaviness of his breaths with the rise and fall of his chest against my shoulder. With his curls hanging loosely and untamed, he looks like every one of my dirtiest fantasies.
Those moonstone eyes drop to my mouth, and I stay perfectly still as he edges forward painfully slow. His hand so high up on my thigh now that I’m sure he can feel the heat of my pussy. I’m about to close the distance and crush my mouth against his when a shrill sound comes from the doorway of the room.
“Leo!”
I wrench away from him, shocked back into myself as I stare at this stranger. My cheeks burn in realization of what I almost did, what I wanted to do. I turn quickly, seeing Blakely red faced in anger as she shoots daggers between me and the guy next to me. Her hands are balled in tight fists at her side as she storms up to the front of our desks. Her palms slam down hard in front of me as she leans in close, gritting her teeth.
“Backthe fuckoff.”
I turn back to who I can safely assume is Leo. His eyes remain fixated on me. I would almost think he hadn’t heard her if it wasn’t for the smirk slashed across his devilishly handsome face. Realization slams me in the face, and the shame I was feeling moments ago is replaced with a burning hot volcanic sized rage.
Thisis what he meant. They aren’t going to personally deal out whatever sick version of justice they feel entitled to for me daring to get the poster boy for ‘sexy men with fancy-as-fuck cars’ dirty. No, they are going to sit back and watch the girls tear ribbons off me.
Blakely stomps off, sitting a few rows in front before Leo stands up out of his seat at a languid pace which I’m starting to think must be a personality trait. All slow and sure movements. I narrow my eyes at him as he picks up my apple and takes a huge bite out of it. Juices spray with a bit landing on my cheek but I make no movement to wipe it away.
I just sit there and continue to glare at him. Searing this moment into my brain. He leans over my desk one last time, the shadow of his smirk still lingering on his lips as he talks around the food in his mouth.
“Welcome to Fairwater Academy.” And then he’s gone.
