Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
I bore a hole in his swollen head all through class. Professor Anthony must’ve noticed because his gaze didn’t travel higher than the seventh row. After review time where I reflected on the comments “this was a waste of my time and your talent” and “if you’re not going to take this seriously, you’re better off handing me a blank paper,” he handed out the essay tests.
I finished quickly and waited, and waited, while the other students finished up and left.
“Miss Sinclair.” I jumped, snapping up to Adonis climbing the stairs. “Are you finished?”
“Yes, but—”
“Give me your paper. You can go.”
I hesitated. “I was hoping to speak with you at the end of class.”
“I’m sure you were, but I was hoping to swallow a handful of ibuprofen and save getting told off by my student for when I don’t have a splitting headache.” He slipped the essay out from under me and swept out a hand. “Goodbye, Miss Sinclair.”
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself he did get hit over the head because of me. “See you tonight, Professor.” I hoped it sounded like a warning, because it was. He was not getting out of this conversation.
My classes passed quickly. The last few weeks taught me the lesson of checking my chair before I sat down, ignoring sudden calls pulling me out of class, avoiding my classmates and their camera phones, sitting next to no one other than Victor, and not traveling between classes alone. It felt I was attending school in a war-torn nation rather than the top private university in the country.
Despite all my precautions, no one messed with me other than tossing me triumphant, self-satisfied smiles. They thought they neutered me there on the concrete, bruised and buried under textbooks. Why wouldn’t they? My ring was gone. It looked like they got everything they wanted and I tossed their man back.
That evening, I padded upstairs to shower and get dressed for dinner. Heading for my room, I halted in the middle of the hallway, slowly turning my head. Rafael paused with his hands in his hair, achieving that windswept tousled look I thought was effortless.
Steam billowed out of the shower from his bath and clung to his naked chest. Water droplets slip-slid down his pecs like happy sluts that then got the privilege of soaking the towel wrapped low on his waist. Many things hit me at once as we stared at each other, but they were all summed up by two facts: Rafael was standing half naked in front of me, and I could see this because the sheet acting as my door was in a pile on the mat.
“What’s up?” Rafael asked. He pointed down. “Want me to drop the towel?”
Fire burned through my skin and veins, reducing me to a pile of Luna ash on the carpet. “What the—! I don’t— What kind of person asks something like that!”
He shrugged, grinning away. “What kind of person thinks about saying yes?”
Rafael worked his hips, thrusting and grinding to douse the Luna ash with gasoline and set it ablaze again. “Oops, it’s slipping. About to come off by itself.”
“Rafael, I swear!”
Laughing, he stopped. I tried very hard not to notice the towel did slip down, revealing more of that V and a patch of raven hair.
This guy is an explosive. Destroying monogamy wherever he goes. But he’s not getting to me. If I expect Victor to keep it in his pants, I have to hold myself to the same standard. Victor wanted to see other people but be discrete about it. It was me who brought up the no-hooking-up rule in the first place.
I had to go and open my fucking mouth the first time. Then I did it again at the mention of Everleigh. This is one of those times when I truly have no one else to blame.
“What are you doing in my shower anyway?” I called, ducking into my room to lay out my dress. “You have one in your room.”
“Cato’s in mine.”
“He has a shower in his room too.”
“There was an accident. A little fire damage. No big deal.”
“This is the point where I stop asking questions.”
“You’re learning, Sinclair.”
“Can I also learn when I get my doors back?”
Rafael resumed fixing his hair, and not his towel. I kept flicking down to the loosening thing, sliding lower down his waist. “Gotta ask Wilder that one.”
“You guys know you can trust me by now. We—”
The towel gave up, pooling around his feet.
“We’ll talk later,” I cried, racing across the hall. Rafael’s laughter taunted me as I ran into Lucien’s room and bolted the door. My chest heaved like I ran farther than six feet. I dropped my head on the wood, resolving then and there to get my doors back, even if it meant kicking Wilder’s ass. The guy was twice my size, but I was highly motivated.