He presses kisses all over my temple, my cheek, my jaw, his stubble scraping against my sensitive skin.
“Artie,” he whispers, his voice thick and broken. He says my first name. Not Patton.Artie.He repeats it, over and over, like a prayer. “Artie, Artie, fuck…”
His hips start to move, rubbing his cock against my thigh in a rough, desperate rhythm. The friction is jarring, the fabric of his athletic pants rough against my skin. He lets out a guttural growl, a sound so primal it sends a fresh jolt of fear through me.
His entire body goes tense. He thrusts one last time against my thigh, his teeth sinking gently into my shoulder, and then a ragged roar escapes him as he comes right in his pants.
He buries his face in my hair, his chest heaving, his entire body vibrating with the force of his release.
The animalistic nature of it all… The growl, the possessive grip, the way his hands are still roaming insistently over my body as if he can’t get enough, itfrightens me.
And my own feelings seem just as terrifying. I have never been this close to anyone, never experienced anything so intense, so consuming. I’ve never lost control like that.
The fear is like a bucket of ice water. It brings me crashing back to my senses.
What am I doing? What the hell just happened?
My body is still trembling, slick with sweat. His arms are still around me, holding me hard. I need to get out. Now.
I wrench myself out of his grip. He makes a noise of protest, reaching for me again, but I’m already scrambling for my things. I snatch my underwear and jeans from my locker, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold them.
“Where are you—”
I don’t listen. I pull on my jeans over my damp skin, not bothering with underwear. I shove my bare feet into my shoes, grab my backpack, and without a single look back at the man sitting wrecked and panting on the bench, I run.
~ ~ ~
I don’t stop running until I’m back in my dorm room, the door slammed and locked behind me. I lean against it, my chest heaving, my heart hammering against my ribs.
After a few minutes, when my breathing finally evens out, I stumble into my tiny bathroom and stare at my reflection.
I look ravaged. My lips are swollen, my hair is a mess, and dark, angry bruises—his marks—are already forming on myneck and chest. Physical evidence. Proof that it wasn’t some fever dream.
A cold wave of confusion washes over me.
I’ve always known, on some level, that I wasn’ttotallystraight. But my attractions have always been muted, slow to build. I thought I was demisexual, someone who needed a deep emotional connection before any physical desire could take root.
What just happened in that locker room wasn’t just about emotional connection. It was raw, primal, and very physical. Raiden Blackwell, the man who has made my life hell, just had to touch me and I fell apart. One look, one growl, and my body responded with an eagerness that horrifies me. He arouses me, and that is a terrifying truth to face.
And him? Is he even gay? Or bi? What are his motivations and his intentions?
I spend the next hour pacing my room, replaying every second, analyzing every word.“I’m always hard when you’re around, Patton.”It sounded so sincere, so angry and desperate. It sounded real. But how can it be?
The pieces start clicking into place with a dreadful certainty. He waited for me in that empty corner of the locker room. He shows up every single day to work on a Christmas party he clearly couldn’t care less about. Everywhere I go on campus, he’s there, in the cafeteria, the library, the stands at the arena.
He’s not just showing up. He’s practically stalking me.
Maybe I need to stop being so naive. I need to face the truth.
Seems this isn’t about him having a secret crush he doesn’t know how to express. This is a game. The day I stood on that stage in the auditorium, I publicly challenged him. I made him look like a fool, and then got him roped into this stupid committee in front of the whole school.
Raiden Blackwell doesn’t take insults lightly. This is his long-con revenge. Seduce the nerdy art kid, break him down, makehim lose control, and then what? Humiliate me? Destroy me completely?
My stomach twists into a knot. That has to be it. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
But… even knowing that, a part of me wants to go back and play again.
7
