I don’t miss how he avoided directly saying “gay.”
I shrug. “Could have fooled me. What with how you looked at me . . .”
Alexei turns on his heels and walks away. And, stupidly, I follow.
“Why does it seem like it’s your personal mission to make my life hell?” My shoulder brushes against his as he stares ahead, ignoring me. “And why’d you follow me into the bathroom anyway?”
Before I know it, I’m walking into Young Hall and holy crap. My feet slow and I spin, carefully taking it all in. It’s like a hotel. Well, really it’s just another 19thcentury mansion Crestwood uses, but this one’s for residential living.
While I don’t consider myself someone who needs luxury, the history is awe-inspiring. It’s a far cry from my dorm building, which is pretty much what you’d find on any college campus.
Hanging from the ceiling in the center of the main room is an extravagant chandelier with four oversized leather chairs beneath it. Large arched windows line the upper walls and the staircase has that old, sturdy wood feel.
Alexei walks up the stairs so I follow after him. He heads down a hallway lined with candelabra wall scones, then stops at a door.
The “Eli doesn’t exist” game isn’t funny anymore. “Is almost kissing me making you freak out?”
The world around me turns into a blur, a sharp pain erupting throughout my entire scalp. I trip over my feet as I’m tugged forward by my hair. But instead of falling to the ground, I collide into Alexei.
He lets go of my hair and shoves me away, mumbling something I don’t understand as he slams the door shut.
I take a moment to compose myself after being pulled and pushed and shoved and, by every definition of the phrase, thrown around. And Jesus, why do I like it so much?
“Shut the fuck up about your damn delusions.”
This jerk nearly ripped my hair out and he thinks I’m going to cower. No way.
I raise an eyebrow and place a hand on my hip. “Delusions? Oh, you mean my delusions about how your breath got all hotand heavy, and you kept leaning in closer and closer while your hands gripped my shirt?”
“Not another fucking word!”
When he stalks toward me, my confidence evaporates, and I step away until I back into the wall. I push my hand against his chest, attempting to create some space between us, but he's solid, unyielding—a force of nature.
Alexei yanks my hair, tilting my head back so my eyes meet his. “I told you to shut the fuck up.”
I can’t tell if the heat now burning its way through me is from Alexei’s body, the flush of my face, or a combination of both. “Make me.”
What the fuck, brain? Or mouth? Whichever one of you thought that was a good idea.
Alexei's grip tightens, his anger palpable. His eyes are so dark they look black. I swallow hard, wondering how many broken bones I’ll end up with. But instead of hitting me, his lips crash into mine.
I let out a muffled sound of surprise as our mouths sloppily meld together, teeth knocking against one another briefly.
My mind goes blank and my body slack.
He bites down on my bottom lip and I whimper at the pain, my eyes closing and letting the heat coursing through my veins override any protest.
I grip his shirt tightly while our bodies press against each other as his tongue forcefully enters my mouth.
Our kiss turns greedy and vicious. My fingers slide up into his hair as he presses me harder into the wall. When he bites my lip again, this time drawing blood, I whine and buck my hips into him as my fingers tug at his dark, curly strands.
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.
I break the kiss briefly and try to wrench my wrists away. “H-Hey!”
Alexei only tightens his grip and dips his head down to nuzzle against the space between my shoulder and neck. His hot breath skates across my skin for a split second before he bites down.
Hard.
