Dammit. I am not keeping the shirt and he really needs to put it on and leave. I cannot be around him right now. I think the sun addled my brain or something.
“Take it,” I say, and give the shirt in question a little shake.
He’s not looking at the shirt, though. He’s looking at me. And the look in his eyes isn’t an innocent one. It’s the same look he gave me in the classroom. Heated. Hungry. Predatory.Fuck.I drop the shirt.
“Christ.” He runs a hand over his head. “That thing is fucking indecent.”
I look down at myself and yeah, he’s not wrong, but neither was Quinn. I’m glad she offered me the swimsuit. Once I got over the shock of the thing, I decided I liked it. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.
I’ve never had a hard time getting a guy's attention, present company not included, but I’m attractive in a cute sort of way. Not beautiful. Not hot or sexy. Just, cute. I have round cheeks, curly black hair, bright blue eyes and one of those faces that people look at and think to themselves,she’s cute.
This swimsuit takes me from cute to sexy and I’m not going to lie, I like it. I like feeling sexy, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like the way Desmond is looking at me while I’m in it. Which, yes, I know that’s bad. It’s the sun. Totally blaming the sun for my crazy stupid thoughts right now, because I shouldn’t like the way he’s looking at me. In fact, I should be snapping at him for it. But I’m not. I need to steer us back onto safer ground.
“Thanks for the unsolicited opinion,” I tell him.
“Put that back on.” He nods to the shirt.
“Pass. I don’t take orders from wolfholes.”
His eyes narrow. “Put on the shirt.”
“No. In case you didn’t notice, Kappa Eagle is having a party. One I plan on getting back to and enjoying. You should have left with Zheng, but since you didn’t, I’ll be nice and let you borrow my car. But I’m going to go have fun.” I’d breeze past him out the door if he wasn’t still blocking it, but because he is, I lean back against my dresser and fold my arms over my chest to wait.
His jaw tics.
“Put on the shirt, Meiying.”
“No.”
“Dammit. Put on the fucking shirt.”
“Make me, asshole.”
Okay, that last comment, probably not a great choice of words. Desmond closes the distance between us. Capturing my hips in his hands, he jerks me to him.
“Why do you always have to fight me on shit?”
I give him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right?”
His nostrils flare, his wolf flashing in his eyes.
“You do not get to dictate what I wear or do or anything about my life. You don't own me. Get that through your head.” Something in me snaps. All my frustration from before, my anger and hurt at his dismissal, comes rushing to the surface. Where does he get off? “You think that, what, since we fooled around in a classroom that you all of a sudden get to make demands? That’s not how this works, Des!” I shove at his chest. “Get the hell out of my way.”
He shifts his stance, still blocking me.
“Desmond—”
“Put on the shirt or take off that suit. You’re not going out where all those fraternity punks are in that.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “Fine,” I snap.
Surprise flashes in his eyes and he takes a step back, giving me some space, but I’m not going to put on his stupid cinnamon smelling shirt. Since he wants me to take off the swimsuit, I’ll take it off.
I grab the straps of the swimsuit and tug them down, pulling my arms out.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring him, I push the swimsuit down past my ribcage, exposing my breasts.
