His eyes are already on me.Dark.Focused.Amused in a way that makes my stomach flip and my pulse stutter.His smirk deepens, just a fraction, as if he caught me mid-thought and liked what he saw there.
Heat rushes low in my body.My pussy clenches traitorously, and I almost laugh at myself for it.Because my body has never listened to my brain where Reece is concerned.
I sit up straight in my chair, creating space where there isn’t any.My pen taps faster now, irritation replacing nerves.
“Didn’t peg you for the silent type,” he says finally.
I lower my eyes to my notebook.“Didn’t peg you as academically inclined.”
He laughs softly to himself.“Touché.”
I grip my pen tighter, knuckles turning white, eyes fixed on the page even though the words no longer make sense.I can feel him still watching me.It’s a physical presence, a weight pressing into my awareness until I can’t ignore it.
I dislike what it does to me.
It makes me squirm in my seat.Makes my blood run hotter than it has any right to over a stupid study table in a library.
He feeds on it.
The tension...the way my shoulders stiffen when his voice drops.The way my breath catches when his eyes flick to my mouth for a split second too long.
“Relax,” he murmurs.“I’m not going to bite.”
I snort softly.“That’s not reassuring.”
His eyes gleam.“Wasn’t meant to be.”
Before I can respond, he leans forward, elbows on the table.
Close enough to count the lashes around his eyes, see the faint scar on his cheek—pale against his skin, as if it’s something he’s earned.Close enough to notice the way his mouth tilts when he speaks, crooked and knowing, as if he’s always halfway through a secret he hasn’t yet shared.
I swallow and finally glance up, meeting his gaze head-on.
And fuck me if his eyes aren’t already burning straight through me.
“What’s the deal with you and Bryce Andrews?”The question spills out, blunt and uninvited.
“Excuse me?”
Reece shrugs, radiating lazy confidence and calculated indifference.“You two were talking yesterday.It looked cozy.”
I gaze at him.Really stare.And then it hits me.
Jealousy.
That doesn’t make any sense.Reece Wilson doesn’t get jealous.He cycles through girls like seasons, never staying long enough to care who’s standing next to whom.He moves on before feelings even have a chance to breathe.
So, this isn’t that.
This isn’t about Bryce.
It’s about control.
It’s about the stupid fucking bet he made with Jace.The big statement.The one where he decided my pussy was a prize.And now he’s pissed because I won’t give him an inch.Because I won’t stumble and fall into his lap and make this easy for him.
“We were discussing the assessment we have to work on,” I say coolly.
His eyes flick to my mouth again before he looks back up.“I don’t like it.”
