“Of course,” I answered honestly, tightening the grip on my bag strap. He’d be able to wrangle it off me easily with those giant hands and the strength of a stallion. “I’d be stupid not to.”
A little smirk stretched across his dial as if he had dirty thoughts on his mind, and as we walked down the path toward the campus gardens, his hand rested on the small of my back, guiding me, and I had mixed feelings about that. Once on the soft grass, walking past the macabre statues that watch over anyone who lingered, he blurted, “What the hell are you wearing?”
The light was dim, and the red eyes on the minotaur pouring water from his vase into the fountain were starting to light up. “Several layers of clothes in case I got cold.”
“How many layers?” he pressed dryly.
“Several. I have jeans on underneath these,” I patted my sweatpants over my thigh, “and I think five t-shirts, maybe more.”
He grunted as if he knew exactly why I wore five thousand clothes, but then surprised me with, “Easy.”
“Excuse me?” I questioned as we came to a picnic table, and he beckoned me to sit.
“Easy,” he repeated. “I can still get into you, if I want.”
“If you want?” I was horrified by his blatantly raw language.
“Why do you keep repeating everything I say?” I pressed mildly, taking the covered plates of food from the bags.
“Because I’m a little stunned,” I told him honestly. “What do you mean that I’m easy? I’m wearing a hundred layers of clothes,sweating down my back because I’m so hot just because I don’t want you to touch, and you think I’m easy.”
“I mean…it’ll be easy to rip those clothes off you,” he answered casually as if he was talking about ripping the packet off a cake of chocolate. “Like,” he motioned, ripping my baggy sweater with his hand in the air, “easy.”
A shiver traveled down my thighs at the thought of this man ripping my clothes off and seducing me, and I bit my bottom lip to suppress a sigh from escaping. I couldn’t help but wonder how good it would feel to just let those big hands do whatever they wanted. I wriggled in my seat to alleviate the urge I had between my thighs as he encouraged me to take the cover off my plate.
“Apricot chicken,” he pointed out proudly, and again a little flutter annoyed my chest. The man was really making an effort, but why?
“Yum, this looks and smells nice,” I said honestly.
“Afterward, you can open your gift, and we can try it out if you want?” he suggested. “I ordered it online especially for you.”
“Oh, wow, I mean…aren’t we supposed to, you know, be enemies that hate each other because right now the hate seems only one-sided,” I pointed out.
“Whose side hates?” he asked, frowning. “Is it me who hates you or the other way around?”
“Haven’t I made it obvious that I hate you?” I was disappointed as I thought I made a stellar effort.
“Meh, not really,” he said, shrugging those impressive shoulders.
“Well, I’m stunned,” I mumbled with my mouth full. “What’s the gift you have for me?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait until you open it after dinner,” he asserted in that bossy tone, which was kinda making the growing desire I had for him worsen. I mean…I want todampen these annoying feelings of wishing he’d fuck me into Christmas, not make me hornier.
“God, are you drugging me?” I stopped eating mid-chew and pointed at the food with my fork. That must be the only explanation as to why I had a growing need to fucked by Ezrah Warwick, the biggest prick on campus. And if he did have the biggest prick on campus, that would make it even better.
He snorted. “Yeah, not my style. Drugging chicks is never something I’d ever do.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said sarcastically, because I think the son of Leon Warwick was capable of sorts of evil.
He grew distant when he read a message that came through on his phone, then glanced behind him as if looking for someone. But we were surrounded by rose bushes and trellises, with tall trees beyond in failing light, so whoever he was searching for would have to be near for him to see them.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked, then scrutinized his expression as he shook his handsome head.
“Sickle lost something in The Lud, and he was asking me where it was,” he explained, and I struggled to believe him.
“Oh. What did he lose?” I was interested to see how he would let this play out. One lie upon another.
He bowed his head, looking at me from under his eyebrows, “Your gun.”
