Across the room, pupils pin their gazes on me; some discreet, but more openly staring. One girl catches my gaze, her brow furrowed; sympathy, pity, who knows? Then her eyes jerks back to the front of the class, jaw clenching.
He pushes the bra down the front of my dress, sliding the cups underneath my breasts before fastening it at the back with a dexterity that screams of practice. He threads my arms through the straps, managing the entire operation without exposing a lick more of my skin than the dress already exhibits.
Trent drags the jacket back over my shoulders, tapping the crest with his surname and number on it. I hadn’t realised before that it was his.
A flush spreads across his face, the curse of a blond. He inclines his head towards me until our brows are almost touching, then he brushes imaginary lint from my shoulder and pulls away, taking the nearest empty seat.
Caylon is last. Between the dark curls and the thick lashes, he looks like the devil sent to earth to tempt me. A tiny wisp of fabric hangs from his fingers as he advances. I grab the G-string before he can act out a repeat of Trent’s wardrobe assistance. I try to step into the underwear quickly, but my whole body shakes and I miss the leg hole on the first try, nearly spilling face front into the aisle.
The second attempt works, and I pull them up, flashing the class before I tug the hem of my dress as low as it will go.
“You’re fucking the entire rugby team, then?” Em calls out, just in case the class hadn’t caught the inference, her voice loaded with sweet venom.
I toss my head back, staring at Zach instead of her as I answer, “Just the three of them, sweetie. Anything more and they’re just standing around.”
His eyes crinkle and he adjusts himself while staring into my eyes. A wave of helpless lust rolls over me, and my head tilts farther back, exposing the long length of my throat.
Caylon still stands there, and he brushes some strands of hair away from my face, cupping his hand behind my neck to pull me into a semi-hug. “You know, if Zach hadn’t already claimed you, I’d fuck you so hard it’d make your head spin.”
I’m not sure his grasp of anatomy is entirely correct, but my body doesn’t care. Suddenly the blood comes roaring back into my upper body, flooding my chest, my arms, my cheeks with warmth.
My eyes break away from Zach’s indifferent stare and lock with Caylon’s icicle blue one instead. A slow smile spreads across my face as I place my palm flat against his chest. “I might take you up on that offer.”
I don’t look directly at Zach as I claim the only seat left, right at the front of the class, so everyone can continue their gawking session. But in the reflection of the side windows, I see his lips twist. Just for an instant.
Knowing the rest of my day is going to be a shitshow—hell, the rest of theyear—I take my delight where I can.
Didn’t that go the way you wanted it to? Poor baby.
CHAPTERSEVEN
ZACH
“What the helldid you say to her?” I ask Caylon as we leave class, trailing Lilac on the way to the common room. The inside of my head is a mass of lava and fireballs, but I maintain an icy grin.
“Just that I’m happy with seconds once you tire of playing.”
“Hey,” Trent says, joining us. “I’ve already bagged seconds. Wearing my jacket is practically the same as getting engaged.”
“You don’t even fuck real girls.”
“I fuck my hand while watching them, which amounts to the same thing.”
Sometimes I hate Trent’s easy-going attitude. Even when it’s useful, it rubs me the wrong way.
“If you want seconds, you’re welcome to take Em off my hands,” I tell them both, not even sure if she’s standing far enough away to be out of earshot.
“No, thanks,” Caylon says without hesitation. “I prefer my woman declawed and defanged.”
“I like fingernails,” Trent says in a wistful voice, his wide jaw softening. “Especially when they’re raking down someone’s back.”
“You know you’re meant to keep your kinks hidden, right?” Caylon shakes his head and nods to someone on the other side of the quadrangle. “Not spout off about them in the middle of school where anyone might eavesdrop, ready to shame you.”
Given Trent’s size, I can’t imagine anybody having the balls to do that and when he shrugs his gigantic shoulders, I’m guessing he thinks the same.
“Slag,” a girl shouts as Lilac walks by, earning a quick scowl and her middle finger.
None of this went like I thought it would. She’s meant to cower in class, then run to the library to hide before ultimately deciding school isn’t worth the hassle and moving on with her life elsewhere.
