Every girl with half a brain knew you didnotsleep with the cocky football player. You didnotfall for his charm, his wit, his intelligence, or his looks. God, his looks... How was it fair for a man to look so effortlessly perfect? And his body? A man should not look like that undressed. Not a real one anyway. All those hard muscles — his abs weren’t even defined, they weresculpted. I mean, he was the quarterback, wasn’t heallowedto be, I dunno, pudgy?
He was irresponsible and dangerous, and I was supposed to know better. He was shady — phone calls in the dark and unexplained pill bottles — and he obviously had anger issues, hello fighting in a parking lot. And yet I’d still stripped my clothes off, lay on my back, and said,Do me.
I closed my eyes and still saw him. Felt the scrape of his teeth against my collarbone, the warmth of his hand on my hip. His cock filling me, stretching me, making me feel like I hadn’t known what I was missing, because that man knew exactly what he was doing with what God gave him, and he’d been given a lot.
Ugh. Now I was thinking about his technique. I didnotneed to be thinking about his technique. I had enough problems.
How dare he be a ten ineverything? Looks? Ten. Skillset? Ten. Kissability? Ten. Wit? Ten. Charm? Ten. Oh my God, is that why he wore the number ten? Because he knew hewasone?
Ugh, he was annoyingly perfect.He was annoying!I felt a surge of wild hope. Surely there were points off for that, right?
And then his reminder that his roommates had seen girls leave his room before. Well, if that wasn’t a slap of cold, hard reality, I wasn’t sure what was.
And yet... I didn’t believe him. I mean, was he a virgin? Obviously not. But a manwhore? I doubted it.
Which put me back to square one, and that was the fact I had sex with Dante Spence.
Maybe this was a panic attack? I’d never had one. I hadn’t thought I was the type.Well, buckle up, Savvy, you’re officially fucked.Literally and figuratively.
Damn it, I hated this. Hated that even now, after I’d left him like that, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to scream at him or beg him to drag me back to bed and do it all over again.
Either way, he was a constant presence in my head, and I had no idea how to get him out.
Everything felt . . . different.
It wasn’t just the sex — though that alone had me shaking in ways I wasn’t ready to admit. It was what itmeant. Dante already had too much leverage over me. The half-assed tutoring, knowing about my shed, and now this. Having sex with him didn’t even the scales. It tilted them.All the way to him.
I hugged my knees, staring at the floor. He could have ruined me with a word before I got into bed with him. One whisper that I was working on an art project, and my dad would be furious. Worse...disappointed. Now Dante could add on that he was sneaking around with the dean’s daughter, and my name would be known for the wrong reasons. My father would never forgive me. The Academic Association would never look at me the same again.
I was supposed to tutor, not be taught.
I knew all of this. I’d lectured myself so many times since I met him,Do not fall for the quarterback, and yet when he kissed me, I hadn’t stopped him. When he suggested his room was right upstairs, I could have walked away. Did I? No. I’d wanted it — wantedhim. That was the problem.
Now I was tangled up in something I couldn’t control, with a man whothrivedon control. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was terrified of the fallout or of how much I would risk to do it again.
I stood up and got ready for my day. I needed to focus on my classes, and promised myself that I would not let this rule me. Anymore.
By lunch, I’d convinced myself I could fake normal.
I sat across from Bev in the cafeteria, nodding at her rundown of orchestra drama, but I couldn’t hear her over the constant hum in my chest. The clink of cutlery, the scrape of chairs, even the way the sunlight slanted through the windows — it all felt too sharp, like the world knew what I’d done.
What we’d done.
Bev asked me a question about next semester’s electives, and I blinked at her like an idiot before mumbling some excuse about needing more coffee. Her confused frown followed me all the way to the buffet table.
Even there, between carafes of orange juice and fruit salad, I wasn’t free. Not when I heard two students whispering about the football team having a huge party, and campus security had to break it up.
My stomach dropped. The party got broken up by campus security? What if we’d still been there? Dante wasn’t just reckless — he was reckless withmyfuture, whether he meant to be or not.
I carried my coffee back to the table and pretended I wasn’t coming out of my skin, as Bev carried on her one-sided conversation, and I pretended I was listening.
Later, in my art shed, I tried to weld it out of me. Sparks hissed and danced as I pressed the torch to steel in order to fuse across the metal. But every lick of heat reminded me of his hands on my body. Every curve I bent into shape reminded me of his mouth.
The grinder’s hum had only just faded when my phone buzzed against the workbench.
It was Kylie, the coordinator for Academic Affairs.
Kylie: Just checking in to remind you that your students’ progress reports need to be sent by midweek. Catch you later!
