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“Stand what?” I couldn’t breathe unless I wanted to breathe her in, and that meant remembering what her mouth tasted like beneath mine... I gritted my teeth and gave her a cold smile.
"Being around you."
“It’s a daily occurrence when you live in my skin,” I shot back, forcing my heart to still its over excited pounding at being near her again.
Which was the whole damn reason I stayed the fuck away from this girl after I’d already given her so much. Because I couldn’t trust myself and I sure as hell couldn’t trust her with anyone else. That wouldn't end well.
Somewhere behind me, Dylan coughed loudly, and his footfalls took off in the opposite direction like a Grinch hellbent on survival.
"It would be with an asshole like you." Her eyes narrowed and she closed the short distance between us until her breasts crushed against my chest.
She was all full of curves I barely knew in all the right places.
“You’d know, honey.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to do anything with Jason and Donovan?"
My lips made a flat line. “Way to take the sexy out of the conversation, Sylvie.”
Not that it had been sexy to start with. Nope, my head made that leap all on its lonesome. The idea of writing not so innocent words all over her naked body shot through my mind, and blood headed in the wrong direction. “I don't know. Maybe my asshole factor is rubbing off on the team.” I sluiced a hand through my sweat-laden hair. Why I was talking to her about team stuff, I couldn't fathom.
"At least you admit to it."
An extra dose of defiance radiated behind her brown eyes and something inside me burned, something I tried to cut off months ago. Nice curves were one thing; falling for a girl who fought me at every turn, who sassed me and then turned on her heel and did anything I asked...this wasn’t the girl I wanted to give me feelings. Not now. Not ever.
“Fucking liar.” I sent the message to my brain and heard it slip out of my mouth instead.
Sylvie recoiled. "What?"
"Ignore me. I'm mad. You don't want to be involved."
She pressed her hands to my chest in a personal suicide run before breakfast. "Beau– we were involved. And then–" Her breath hitched and I ran out of fucks for my sanity and dived into this debacle in the making headfirst.
"I helped a dying girl keep her eyes open when she was bleeding out in my hands. That's all that happened, Sylvie." My throat grated at the lie.
Sylvie gave me a hard look, one that pulled me up short, and spun around, dancing away, her dark hair twirling around her shoulders. The ends brushed her lower back, almost to her ass. Dammit, she’d look so fine kneeling next to my desk, waiting for me. With a few words carved on her body. Maybe a harness, and a few special ties.
This time I didn't chase her, no matter how much my cock ached or my heart...well. That shit shouldn't be happening, certainly not with me. I hadn’t lied when I told her she didn’t want to be involved with me.
I let Sylvie Quick run away from me and stood there alone, watching her ass sway in the most delicious ways and promised myself that the little bout of bullshittery was enough to push her away for good.
That slice of resolve lasted right up until I witnessed the pain my apparent indifference brought to her beautiful eyes when she shot a scared glance over her shoulder, and kept on running.
It was for the best. She couldn't be involved with me.
I don’t want her.
Liar.
****
Sylvie Quick stilltook up prime residence in my head when I walked into my dorm room and found my brother lounging back on my bed. I caught the door on its rebound, holding it open with my boot.
"Get the fuck out." I didn't look at him again as I flicked my laptop open and scrolled through emails I didn't need to read.
"Well, that's not very nice," Brandon drawled.
The spitting image of me, we shared our father’s undeniable gene pool: tall, broad shoulders, black hair, blue eyes. Enough classic looks to slide through life in plenty of respects and the intelligence required when that outer pleasant facade failed, which wasn’t very often.
