He bristles. “I’m not offering anything.”
“Funny,” I say softly, “You already offered yourself.”
His breath catches, and I see it. A spark. There’s some trepidation there, sure. Definitely some unresolved rage. But more than anything, what I see is interest. Need.Want.
Before I can press further, a girl calls his name. Then his father barks his name sharply.
“Lincoln. It’s rude to make people wait for you.”
I watch Beckett’s spine straighten. Watch him plaster on a too-bright smile. Watch him transform.
He walks out of the hallway with purpose, and I slink around the corner to watch, keeping myself out of view from his father.
A tiny girl in a frilly top launches herself at Lin—No. Just Beckett. I think I understand now why he doesn’t like people to use his first name. After hearing all of that, I’ll never call him Lincoln again. Beckett picks her up like she weighs nothing and spins her around once. When he places her back on her feet, Mr.Beckett gives him a curt handshake before bending to give the girl a double-cheek kiss. She giggles.
As Mr. Beckett walks away,myBeckett bends down to whisper something against her lips.
The burn in my stomach turns molten, but I don’t look away. I pay attention. And I notice that he’s not actually kissing her. He’s using her as armor. He wants people to see him kiss her—wants his father to see it.
And when he cuts his eyes in my direction, I know it’s also for me. He wants me to see it. He wants me to react. Because he wants to get under my skin, rile me up for what he really wants.
A distraction. Something intense to wipe out the echo of his father’s voice and all that heavy anxiety he carries around.
When he finally says goodbye to the girl and walks back towards the hallway, I speak before I can stop myself.
“Who was that?”
“My girlfriend,” he says.
I snort. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
My eye twitches, even knowing he’s doing this on purpose.
“Does she know you’re going to be choking on my cock later?”
He chokes, eyes huge. “What… the fuck?”
“I won, didn’t I?”
“By one point.”
“Still sounds like I won.”
“You think one point is worth?—”
“Did I or did I not win?”
“Technically, yes, but?—”
“And wasn’t the deal that I get you any way I want you?”
He doesn’t answer, gaping at me without anything left to say. “Well then, technically,” I say, lowering my voice so only he hears, “you’re going to get down on your knees and suck me.”
I watch the exact moment his breath picks up. His pupils darken. And his dick presses against his shorts like it’s trying to escape.
“That’s interesting,” I murmur, cutting my eyes to the front of his uniform..
