CREW
Wren Beaumont is petrifiedof me.
I knew the moment she shot out of her seat and went to Ms. Skov’s desk that she was trying to get out of working with me. I could tell. Everyone else in the class was shifting into position, pairing up with their project partners, while I sat there by myself and fumed.
She’s making me look like a damn fool, and for what? Because she thinks I’m going to treat her like shit? Doesn’t she realize she’s only making things worse? She’s just too wrapped up in her own worry to realize what she’s done.
Typical behavior.
In tandem, we turn away from Skov’s desk, and Wren goes to hers, about to settle in when I speak up.
“I don’t want to sit in the front.”
A frown mars her pretty face. Because there is no denying it. Wren Beaumont is beautiful. If sheltered little prudes are your thing—which, apparently, they are for me. “Why not?”
“I’d rather sit in the back.” I indicate with a nod toward my desk that sits empty.
She turns her head, studying the empty desks surrounding mine and her shoulders sag in defeat. “Okay.”
Triumph ripples through me as I watch her grab her notebook and her backpack, my gaze dropping to her legs. She wears the skirt at normal length, which is too long in my opinion, and she has white knee-high socks on today, so I don’t get to see much actual flesh. Those stupid fucking Mary Janes are on her feet, but they’re not her usual Docs. They’re another brand and style, sleek and shiny.
Little Miss Virgin is changing it up. Nice.
I follow her to the back of the room, taking in the straight line of her shoulders, the glossy straight brown hair that falls down her back. She’s got the front pieces pulled back in a white bow like a child, and I wonder, yet again, if she’s ever been kissed.
Probably not. She’s as sweet and innocent as they come, with a diamond on her finger, promising her father she will keep herself pure until marriage.
I have no idea why I find that so damn attractive, but I do. I want to mess her up. Fuck her up. Fuck with her, actually fuck her until she’s completely addicted to me and forgets all about her virginal promises. Destroying this sweet, innocent girl feels like sport.
A challenge.
A game.
She daintily settles into the empty chair beside mine, dropping her notebook onto the desk with a loud slap. I sit next to her and lean back, sprawling my legs wide, my foot nudging against hers purely by accident.
Wren immediately jerks her foot away as if I scalded her.
“Are you going to get a notebook out?” she asks.
“For what?”
“To interview me. Ask questions. Take notes.”
“Skov said we’re getting to know each other. It’s the first day of the project. We still have a long time to go.” This chick needs to chill the fuck out.
“I want to do well on this,” she stresses, her gaze fixated on the empty page in front of her. “I want to get a good grade.”
“I do too. We will. Don’t sweat it.”
“Is that how you approach everything?” She lifts her head, mossy green eyes meeting mine. Don’t think I’ve ever sat this close to Wren in the over three years we’ve gone to school together, and I’m taken aback at how gorgeous those eyes are. “No sweat. Don’t worry about it?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Have a problem with that?”
“That’s not how I operate. I work hard to get good grades and maintain my 5.0 grade average.”
She dropped that little tidbit on purpose. A total flex for the virgin, big deal.
“We have something in common,” I tell her, making her frown.