I’m used to people calling me sweetheart and honey and darling. It is the South, after all. But when he says it, it’s different. It sounds straight up gangster, like a threat a mobster says before putting cement shoes on you.
Hope you’re ready to swim with the fishes, sweetheart.
Okay, they probably don’t say that, but it’s still different to hear that word in his dangerous, accented voice. Again, that little shiver of fear and excitement prickles my skin. Yeah, it’s fucked up. But for a girl like me, whose only lasting possession is the body she was born with, money is seductive. For a girl like me, who’s had to carve out respect with her fists, power is intoxicating. And he has both—in spades.
“What is it I shouldn’t believe?” I ask, resting my chin in my hand and giving him a look that’s somewhere between a challenge and an invitation. “That you have a girlfriend, or that you think one hole’s as good as the next?”
Royal reaches up, slowly brushing the hair back from my cheek. I freeze. My breath catches in my throat, and I know I should slap the shit out of him for thinking he’s entitled to touch me, but oh fucking hell, it feels like my whole body is being lit up when his fingertips brush my skin. He watches his fingers moving against my face, collecting an errant lock, winding it behind my ear with painful, agonizing care. When his fingers skim around the shell of my ear, barely brushing my earlobe, a tremor starts deep in my core, and I’m so lightheaded I think I’ll topple right out of my chair.
“Neither,” Royal whispers, leaning closer. His gaze dips to my lips, and he wets his own lips, and fuck me, but all I can think about is kissing him. If he can touch my cheek and make me light up like it’s fucking Christmas, what would those lips feel like on mine? What would those big hands feel like on my body?
God, I need to stop, but he’s fucking intoxicating. His touch, his voice, the animal heat of his body pouring over me like warm honey, the dark, spicy smell of him when he leans close, and most of all, his eyes. There’s something about them that pierces me straight to the core, like he’s shining a light on my darkest shames, cataloguing each of my deepest fears. His gaze strips me bare, and I feel all the vulnerability and eroticism of the first moment a man lays eyes on my naked body, even though I’m sitting in a class full of people, fully clothed.
His fingers graze my jawline, his gaze holding mine. It’s not a feeling like being pinned, but one that draws me in, pulling me closer, sucking me into his world. The darkness I can see hidden behind those eyes calls to mine, invites me to come and play his sick, twisted games, invites me to turn away from the light and dance in the darkness with him.
He lifts my chin, and I can’t hear the teacher or anything in the room anymore. All I can hear is my heart racing in my ears, his heavy breaths against mine. Nothing else exists. He skims his thumb slowly across my lower lip, and a shiver rolls through my body, pinching my nipples tight and making my knees squeeze together and my lips part as an inaudible gasp escapes.
Royal leans even closer, until our foreheads are almost touching, our mouths only an inch apart. “You really made up a girlfriend for me so you could pretend that’s why I’m not interested in ridiculous high school girls and their petty drama?” he purrs, his voice warm across my skin like velvet.
“What?” I snap, yanking back from his touch, my heart racing and my head spinning. How could I let him get to me for even a minute?
The teacher gives us an annoyed look. Royal chuckles and slouches back in his chair. And even though he’s pretending to be all cool, I can see a ridge in his pants that makes my thighs quiver.
Touching me made him hard. It’s not just me who’s feeling the crackling heat between us, then.
He doesn’t do any of the silly things boys do to hide it when they get inappropriate erections in class. He just sits there, letting me look at the thick shape pressing up against the fabric of his fine navy slacks. A smug smile pulls at his lips, like he’s very much enjoying the fact that I’m eye-fucking him in the back of the classroom. I can’t help it. The dude is probably six and a half feet tall, and let’s just say, his cock is not out of proportion with the rest of his body.
“As to your other question,” he says slowly, waiting for me to drag my gaze away from his crotch, “It’s too stupid to answer.”
I shrug, trying to fight my way through the fog he blew into my brain. “It wasn’t really a question. Just something guys like you say to make girls feel worthless.”
“Or maybe it’s something girls like you say to make themselves feel like theyaren’tworthless,” he says with a smirk. “But we all know the truth, don’t we? Saying every pussy is equal is like saying every bank account is equal.”
“Oh, so you only fuck the twenty-four karat gold ones,” I say.
“Exactly. You’re not my caliber.”
“Sounds hard, cold, and dry to me,” I say, turning to my laptop and forcing myself not to check his crotch again. We’re supposed to be doing partner work, so at least we’re not the only ones talking. “But hey, to each their own. If that’s what you’re into, no judgment here. Guess I won’t be climbing through your window anytime soon, though. I’m all flesh and bone and blood. No Midas pussy here.”
“You’re a cum dumpster,” he says flatly. “As long as I double bag it so I don’t catch any of your diseases, I’ll throw a girl like you a bone once in a while. Helps me appreciate it more when the pussy’s good.”
“Sorry, not interested.”
“What?” he asks, looking annoyed. “I’mnot interested.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”
“I’m not,” he grits out.
“You’re the one trying to convince me to come to your house.”
He snorts. “I thought you were trying to convince me you were worthy of our table at lunch. Shouldn’t you be telling me you’re secretly as good as all the other girls, I just have to work really hard to see it?”
“Nope,” I say.
Royal crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “Why not?”
“Maybe I’ve decided your table isn’t worthy ofme.”