If he pulls another stunt like he did in class with those filthy words and notes, I swear to God I’ll lose my shit.Completely.No filter.No restraint.I’ll tell him exactly where he can shove his mouth, his cock, and every smug little thought in his head.
Even if reading them made my thighs tighten under the desk.
Even if my body betrayed me in ways, I’m still pissed off about it.
I still remember every word.Every promise, as if he already had me spread out beneath him.As if he knew exactly how I would sound when I stopped pretending I hated him.
And the worst part is that he meant them.
I clutch the strap of my bag, trying to stay grounded.I am not here for Reece.I am not here for his smart mouth, his hands, or the way he looks at me as if I am something he intends to take his time with.
I’m here for the assessment.That’s all.Because I’m not that girl.And he’s not the kind of guy you survive.
The door swings open, and I immediately regret every decision that brought me here.
He’s shirtless.Of course he is.
It feels intentional.Calculated.Like he knew exactly how much this would mess with me and twisted the knife before I even stepped inside.His jeans sit low on his hips, worn and loose, with the waistband cutting a sharp line across skin I absolutely shouldn’t be staring at.
A new scar cuts across his ribcage, angry and pink, as if it’s fresh.His hair is wet, with darker curls than usual, water still clinging to the ends.The faint smell of soap drifts toward me, and my stomach flips in a way I refuse to admit.
His eyes flick to mine, slow and assessing.
His mouth twitches, just slightly.He knows exactly what he looks like and how it’s affecting me.
I hate how my body responds before my brain can catch up.
“Sam,” he drawls, voice low, filled with that cocky confidence.“You showed.”
There it is.That tone.The smug satisfaction that shows he never doubted I would.
I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and refuse to give him anything more.I am not here for this.Not for his chest, the scar.Not for the way his eyes scan over me as if he’s undressing me in his mind.
I grit my teeth.“Put on a shirt.”
I push past him and into the house because it’s the only thing I can still control.If I stop moving, if I hesitate, I’ll bolt.Or worse, I’ll stand there staring at his chest and that scar and forget why I came at all.
The door closes behind me with a dull thud.
Inside smells harsh.Smoke.Sweat.Old energy drinks gone stale.The old heat trapped in walls that have seen too much and been cleaned too little.Something hums faintly nearby, a low electrical buzz that crawls under my skin.The carpet beneath my shoes is worn thin and frayed, fibers flattened by too many footsteps and too little care.
This place feels tired.
I follow him down the narrow hallway, keeping my eyes forward even though every instinct tells me to watch his back, his shoulders, the way he moves with that lazy confidence that never quite slips.
We pass a cracked mirror hanging crooked on the wall.I catch my reflection for a moment and see the cracks beginning to surface.
Then we get to his room, and chaos doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Dirty laundry is strewn across the floor in careless piles.A mattress sits directly on the ground instead of a bedframe, with sheets twisted and half hanging off the sides.A football is wedged near the corner as if it was dropped and never picked up again.I know he played back in the day.He was good too.I remember watching him.But chasing girls to score seems more his sport now.
There’s a guitar in the corner missing two strings, neglected but not forgotten.A pack of cigarettes sits on top of a speaker, crushed and half empty.
The desk is a mess of crumpled paper, scattered everywhere as if he tried to write something and got pissed when it wouldn’t come out right.Pens tossed aside.Ink smudges on the surface.
I glance at the crumpled notes before I can stop myself.
I wonder if they’re just more of the same crap he handed me in class.Filthy.Provocative.Built to get under someone’s skin and stay there.The thought makes heat crawl up my neck even as I scowl.
