I’m going to give Niko the letter tonight. He’s been getting back late usually, sometimes at 11 o’clock at night.
Whenever he’s back, Iwillhand him the letter. Then I’ll fucking walk away from him for the final time.
But I swing the door open to my bedroom and my plan blows up in front of me.
When I seesomeone in my bed, my first instinct is to panic.
I’m shot with adrenaline. I reach for the baseball bat that I started keeping near the doorway when I was worried about the attacks earlier in the semester.
But when my eyes adjust to the low light in the room, my blood goes from cold to hot.
It’s Niko. And he isn’t wearing clothes.
His dark hair is splayed out against my pillows, which he’s propped up behind him. The endless tattoos on his naked skin stand out under my bedside lamp.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
His cock is in his hand, and he has some sort of purple toy stuffed in his ass with his legs spread while he films himself with his other hand.
He just casually lies there and watches me as I shove the letter into my pocket, drop my gym bag, and scramble to shut and lock my door behind me.
“I’m trying to get off. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“In my bedroom?”
“Well, yeah. Something about the way your bedsheets smell like you helps me come?—”
“Out of your fucking mind.”
“I’m joking, Ollie. My room just happens to be occupiedby two other guys right now. You’re very special to me, but you’re notthatspecial.”
I glare at him. “Trust me. I can tell.”
He strokes his cock as he watches me, almost looking amused.
It’s never been more obvious that Niko is built to be a model. His gorgeous, sleepy eyes regarding me likeI’mthe one intruding, without even a hint of shame about what he’s doing.
“What was that paper you put in your pocket?” he asks.
My heart pounds harder again.
“It was nothing.”
I’m supposed to give it to him andwalk away, not pass it over while he’s naked in my bed.
I glance down at his legs, looking at the large, looping tattoo that wraps around the front of his thigh. It’s the wing of some sort of bird, and the way the ink stands out on his skin is impossible to ignore.
Christ.
I really am a fanboy.
Kill me.
“Let me see what it was.” His tone is soft, almost a little sultry, even though his words are a clear demand.
“I told you, it’s nothing. Get out of my room.”
Don’t look at that toy in his ass.
