I sigh, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the chamber. I think I regret not letting him burn me alive.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “It’s not like I was fucking counting.”
“I think you know damn well how often you’ve been playing with your cunt for the last four years. Don’t play fucking stupid, Reverie,” he snaps.
My frustration grows to the point of tears burning the backs of my eyes. Anger takes precedence over my shame, and I drop my chin and glare at him.
His fingers are curled tightly into his palms, the muscle in his jaw pulses, and his nostrils flare. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or turned on—sometimes, they look the same.
“A few times a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less,” Ibite out. “Happy?”
One second, he’s across the room, and the next, he’s prowling toward me, eating up the space between us in a few long strides. I flinch as he gets in my face, planting his hands on either side of my legs and leaning in.
I stop breathing.
“You fucked three men from school,” he states. It’s not a question—he knows this for a fact.
My mouth flops, and I blink several times before I find my words. “How do you even know that?”
“And I’m sure you fucked more when you’d run away all summer break. Did you think about me when they were inside you?” he asks, ignoring my question. “Did you pretend it was me fucking you?”
His stare is intense, and while I don’t exactly know how to interpret the emotion in his eyes, I do know it has my heart racing and electricity humming beneath my skin.
Fire blooms in my cheeks, and I work to swallow, but it feels like a chunk of bread has gotten caught in my incredibly dry throat.
I clear it, a sad attempt to buy more time while I chew on my response: a lie or the truth.
His eyes narrow, sensing my internal battle. “Tell me the fucking truth, Rev.”
I drop my gaze to my lap.
“Sometimes,” I whisper, the admission breaking off my tongue.
Fuck.
I decided to lie, yet that’s not what came out of my goddamn mouth.
You’re such an idiot.
His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth, and now, it seems likehe’schewing on my response.
“And the other times?” he pushes after a moment, his voice considerably rougher. “When you didn’t?”
I don’t know why I answer. He doesn’t deserve it.
I flick a glance at him. “Then I didn’t come.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh and pushes away from me. He nods to himself and starts to turn, but he stops to pin me with a stare I still can’t comprehend, his bottom lip back between his teeth. He sort of looks pissed, but he also sort of looks like he wants to pin me down and fuck me all over again.
He shakes his head, seeming to make a decision I’m not aware of, and turns to leave.
“I'm going back to my own room,” I call, stopping him in his tracks, though he keeps his back turned from me.
I'm convinced he's not going to respond until I hear his low voice.
“I'll let Rogue know so he can keep watch outside your door.”
My heart squeezes, and I don't know why it hurts so much that he's okay with me going back to my own dorm, but it fucking does, and I hate him for it.
