I lean in and lower my voice.“I’ll tell you something if you keep it to yourself.”
She narrows her eyes.“Spill.”
“Jace has a thing for her.”
Her jaw drops.“No.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“No,” she says again, as if saying it twice will make it less true.“Jace.Mr.I Don’t Catch Feelings.I don’t kiss on the lips.Mr.I’d fuck a shadow if it stood still long enough?”
I smirk.“Well, apparently shadows aren’t doing it for him anymore.”
She shakes her head, stunned.“Holy shit.”
“Dude’s been acting weird for weeks.More moody than usual.Even for Jace.”
She leans across the table, eyes wide.“Do you think Lola knows?”She grins, and damn, the way her whole face lights up, yeah, I’d hold onto this quiet moment forever if it means I get to be the one who makes her smile like that.
I take a bite of my burger, finally hungry now that the world isn’t falling apart around me.
“I think it’s Jace doing his usual player stuff,” Sam says, popping a fry into her mouth.“Dropping charm and showing off that whole emotionally unavailable thing he thinks makes him irresistible.”
She grabs her shake, swirls the straw with her finger, and keeps her eyes on me as if she’s waiting for backup.
“It’s his classic move,” I say, smirking.“Works every time.”
“Not on Lola.”She shakes her head, grinning.“That girl’s got a bullshit radar that could bring down an aircraft.”
Chapter 19
Sam
Istillcan’tbelieveIsaid yes.That was close to a week ago.
Seven days of sneaking around, lying to my friends, faking smiles while my pussy aches for another round.
We’ve mostly been hiding out at his place.Reece’s room has become some kind of secret fuck room—four walls, one bed, and seemingly endless ways to make me forget my own damn name.
Right now, my orgasms are clocking more hours than I am.If they had a loyalty card, I’d be earning a free one by now.Probably two.Hell, maybe a commemorative plaque nailed to his headboard.
No one knows.At least I hope they don’t.
We keep it low.Real low.
Tossing glances across crowded hallways.Brushing fingers when no one’s watching.That kind of slow-burn tease that makes me want to straddle him on the cafeteria bench and ride him right there in front of the salad bar.
He’ll brush past me in the hallway and mutter something filthy under his breath, some shit about my skirt, or what he’d do to me if we were alone, and I swear my legs go weak every time.
And when we’re alone, that’s a whole different story.
My body has been wrecked in the best fucking way.That boy touches me as if it’s a skill he’s mastered.He knows every switch to flip, every sound that leaves my throat before I even make it.
His filthy mouth whispers in my ear, telling me all the ways he’s going to fuck me, stretch me, break me open until I’m begging.And I do.Every single time.He makes it feel safe to fall apart under his hands.
He’s possessive in ways that should frighten me.
He tells me my pussy is his like it’s a fact, not up for debate.That I was made for him, and he’s just claiming what was always his.
