Even mentally, but I hate that he mixes his wants and needs. I can’t say I’m jealous because I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me beyond what we shared in this room, the library, and the roof.
Not much to go by, but still. The more time I spend with him, the more attached I’ll get to the idea of wanting him, and that is obviously impossible.
“Let me guess, the fact that I don’t know you and that you used me like those other girls you fucked around campus.”
His lips twitch slightly, and it makes my blood boil, but at the same time, I want to kiss him. “Are you jealous of the thought of me being with someone else?”
“I’m not.”
I don’t know what I feel. I’ve been in survival mode most of my life. I don’t know what I could be jealous of.
He steps forward, and I step back. He furrows his brows. “You’re afraid of me.” He says it like he can read my innermost fears—a fear I’m not sure about yet.
“Should I be? I mean, I’m Prey, right? Another one of your games. The kind rich guys from here like to play.”
His jaw hardens. The little smirk melts off just as fast. “I’m not like the guys from here.”
“People around here say different. I experienced it for myself, didn’t I? Or did you fuck them at a different angle?”
He backs up.
My words slap him with the hurt and anger I’m feeling at being used. And it’s my fault for thinking he was someone different. Someone safe. Who knows what he plans to do with me? He’ll discard me once he’s done and leave me for someone else to pick up the scraps like I’m a piece of meat to try.
“That’s not how it is, and you know it.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Get out, Saint.” I grab a hair tie and pull my hair into a ponytail to give my shaking hands something to do. “And stay away from me.”
He walks up on me fast, not giving me enough time to retreat before he grips my neck with one hand and pulls me closer. “Now we both know that is definitely not gonna happen.” He leans close, his mouth right by my left ear. “Now get some sleep, Amy. You’re going to need it.”
I try to pull away, but he’s strong. Strong enough to keep his hold. Gentle enough for it not to hurt. “Fuck you,” I grit between clenched teeth.
He chuckles, and the sound pushes between my thighs, making my pussy pulse with want. “I plan on it and from the way the pulse on your neck is beating…” He rubs his nose along my cheek until his lips are inches from mine. “You’re hoping I do. You’re hoping I fuck you better than I did them. In every hole, filling it with my cum so you can erase whatever fucked-up memory that haunts you in your dreams, replacing it with your screams every time my dick pounds into your body.”
Holy fuck.
I shake my head, hating that he’s right, but even more for wanting it.
He finally releases me and walks out without another word. Without another glance.
I stare at the closed door, imagining all the ways he would take me, loving and hating it at the same time.
Amy
The following day, I’m sitting at a table inside the coffee shop on campus. It’s half-off Thursdays.
The scent of coffee fills the air, giving me the push I need to read the assignment for next week’s class. I struggled inside my room after Saint left.
Instead of concentrating, all I could do was replay what he said, how he made me feel, how his hands felt on my skin, and then the guilt for wanting me when I shouldn’t.
I’m on the second paragraph when I see a looming shadow appear on the white page.
I look up and find blue eyes watching me with interest. He’s handsome in a boyish way. Lean frame. Small letters from his tattoo run down the side of his neck, but I can’t make them out from where I’m sitting.
“Hey,” he says. “Amy, right? I think we have Behavioral Psych together.”
We do not. I would remember. I remember everyone in my classes. Especially what I’ve learned about being Prey.
“I don’t think so,” I reply.
