FRIDAY AFTERNOON and I’m in the library alone, sitting at my usual table. My American Government textbook cracked open in front of me as I try to read, but my eyes want to cross, the chapter is so boring. And I’m tired from last night with Whit.
I ran across campus back to my room, terrified someone would catch me. I returned to my dorm building almost exactly at ten. The advisor on duty gave me a stern look when I walked in, and I thought for sure I was busted.
“You were almost late,” she said and pointed at the clock on the wall right above her head.
It was ten o’clock on the dot.
“Sorry. I was studying with a friend.” I smiled at her, hoping I was convincing.
I guess I was. She let me go back to my room without another word.
I’m just grateful I didn’t come stomping in there like an enraged Incredible Hulk. The entire exchange with Whit made me so angry. His attitude is bullshit. And what does he know about how I feel about myself? Trying to tear down my self-esteem? Most of the time he compliments my attitude, and now he’s claiming I don’t love myself enough or some shit?
God, I can’t stand him. He’s not my therapist, that’s for damn sure. He’s a psychotic sex fiend who treats women as objects and not as actual human beings. Talk about fucked up.
Even more fucked up? How much I want to see him again. If I think he has issues, then I know for sure I do too.
Irritated with myself, with everything, I slam my book shut, earning a shush from Miss Taylor for my efforts. I ignore her, unzipping my backpack and shoving the textbook inside. I shove my notebook in there too. I still have forty minutes until class starts, but no way am I going to be ready for the quiz we’re having today. Screw it.
Besides, who gives quizzes on a Friday afternoon? Sadistic assholes, that’s who.
Grabbing my backpack, I pull it toward me and wrap my arms around it, resting my head on top of it like a pillow, closing my eyes. I’ll take a quick nap. No one will bother me.
Hopefully.
But hopes are for dreamers and idiots, because mere minutes into my spontaneous nap, I hear someone whisper my last name. A male someone. I open my eyes and spot Whit standing in the stacks. He tilts his head to the right, indicating he wants me to come to him.
I lift my head, my gaze never leaving his as I mouth the word, no.
His jaw clenches and he marches toward my table, standing over me like a lord looking down upon his lowly servant. As in me. I’m his servant. Meant to entertain him whenever he wants me to.
“You don’t have a choice,” he says between clenched teeth. “Come with me now, or pay the price.”
“Maybe I want to pay the price,” I tell him calmly.
“Savage,” he practically growls, his deep voice washing over me.
As if I have no control over myself, I rise to my feet and go to him. There’s no point in fighting this. Fighting him. We’re going to do whatever we do, no matter how much I protest. It will happen.
We are happening.
He grabs my hand the moment he can reach me, his fingers tangling with mine before he jerks me deeper into the endless rows of books. I let him drag me as he turns left, then right. Then another left. Until we’re so deep into the library, I can see no light from the massive windows that line the building. I can’t hear any voices either. Just the electric hum of the pendant lights hanging above us, and the sound of my blood roaring in my ears.
Whit turns to face me, pressing me into the books, his body so close it brushes mine. I tilt my head up, defiant as I stare at him. “What do you want?”
His lips curl into the barest smile. “Your panties.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
He nods. Leans down so his face is directly in mine, his lips close as he whispers, “Not yet though.”
“Why not?”
“I want to get them nice and wet first,” he says, just before his mouth lands on mine.
His lips are electric, sparking energy between us. This is what I craved last night, and he wouldn’t give it to me. He was so cold. Distant. Infuriating. No kissing. No closeness. I may have come, but it wasn’t enough for me.
I wanted this. His mouth on mine. Devouring me. A kiss is intimate. It brings people closer, even strangers. He was the first boy I ever really kissed, and I’ve been addicted to his taste ever since.
I part my lips for his entry, and his tongue slides against mine, circling. Thrusting. I moan into his mouth, my hands reaching for him, resting on his chest, curling into the lapels of his uniform jacket. He slips his hands under my skirt, resting them on my ass, kneading my flesh, pulling me into him.
He’s hard beneath his trousers. Of course he is. When is he not when we’re together? Knowing I do that to him makes me feel powerful. Strong. Despite how terrible he treats me, how cruel and indifferent he is, I still affect him.
Knowledge is power, Jonas used to tell me. And he’s so right. I just never thought it would apply to something like this.
With little effort, Whit lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him, letting him consume me.
I consume him right back.
We kiss and kiss for what feels like hours. He never stops devouring my mouth. It’s almost as if all of this energy was pent-up inside of him, dying to get out. And I’m the receptor, eagerly wanting more.
“Last night wasn’t enough,” he murmurs after breaking the kiss.
I say nothing, a sigh leaving me when he licks his way down my neck.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continues, his voice hard. Full of irritation. “You make me insane.”
The tiniest laugh leaves me and he yanks on the end of my ponytail, thrusting his face in mine. “And not in a good way.”
I glare at him, my heart racing, my lips swollen from his kisses. His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there, and he leans in, sinking his teeth into my lower lip. Hard. Harder. Only until a whimper escapes me and I swear he breaks skin is when he finally releases his hold.
“I hate you,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can think to say.
“I hate you too, Savage,” he returns impassively, lowering me to the floor and removing his hands from my body before he steps away from me. “Now take off your panties.”
Never taking my eyes off of him, I reach beneath my skirt and tear them off, stepping out of them awkwardly and nearly toppling over. I reach out and brace my hand against the shelf before I thrust my underwear at his chest. He catches the ball of black cotton, rubbing his fingers over the crotch.
“Wet.” He brings them to his nose and inhales. “Smells just like you.”
“You’re fucking disgusting,” I spit at him, though I don’t mean a word of it. Watching him sniff my panties actually makes me wetter. God, I’m just as depraved as he is. If I don’t watch it, I might end up dripping down my thighs, and I still have to go to class.
Shit, I still have to take a quiz.
“You like it,” he says knowingly. “I’m leaving this weekend.”
Disappointment crashes within me, but I remain outwardly ambivalent. “What a shame.”
“You’ll miss me?” he asks.
“Not in a million years.” Feeling brave, I try to push past him, but he grabs me with one hand, stuffing my panties in his pocket with the other.
He grins. “I’m positive you’ll miss me.”
“In your dreams,” I retort, hating how accurate he is.
“You will.” He crowds me, his body pressed to mine. “You’ll be alone in that narrow bed of yours, touching yourself to memories of us being together. Crying out my name when you make yourself come, though it won’t be near good enough. Not without me there.” He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, the touch oddly sweet. Almost comforting. “You need my fingers deep inside you. My mouth, my tongue on your wet cunt.”
I swallow hard, my eyes falling closed when I feel his mouth drift across my face, until it pauses at my ear. “You were made for me, you know. You’re just as sick and fucked up as I am.”
I’m trembling. A shuddery breath leaves me and he bites my ear, making me whimper. “When I come back, I’m fucking you.”
Arousal lights me up inside at his words. “Where are you going?”
“None of your damn business,” he says, pushing away from me with a sneer. “Thanks for the gift.”
He turns and leaves me there, walking away without a backward glance. I watch him go, shaking like a leaf, despising how easy it is for him to just…abandon me.
Typical. They all eventually abandon me.
He’s just like the rest.
I wait a few minutes before I make my way back to the table I abandoned. My backpack still sits there untouched, and I know it’s because of Whit that no one bothers me anymore. I can appreciate that, but the only reason they bothered me in the first place is…
Because of Whit.
He’s somehow become both my protector and my nightmare.
Fitting.
Grabbing my stuff, I go to the bathroom and try to piece myself back together. I’m a mess. My hair is falling out of my ponytail and after washing my hands, I fix it, studying myself. My eyes are sparkling and a little wild. My cheeks are pink and my lips are still swollen, all from our kissing session. Why do I want him, when he treats me so terribly? What is wrong with me? Is it the whole, we always want what we can’t have scenario?
I don’t know, but the thing is, I can have him. I have had him. Not in every way I want, but we’re getting there. We’re going to have sex. I’m going to know what it feels like to have Whit inside of my body.
My pussy clenches at the mere thought, reminding me that I’m standing here with no undies on. A strong breeze could come up while I’m walking on campus and catch my skirt, and everyone could see me.
I sort of don’t care.
The bathroom door swings open and in walks Caitlyn. Our gazes connect and she rolls her eyes, stopping at the sink next to mine to wash her hands. I watch her blatantly, annoyance filling me. One second she’s my friend and now she’s my enemy. I don’t get it.
I don’t get any of the people at this school. They’re all fucking terrible, truth be told.
“What are you looking at?” she snaps at me.
“I haven’t done shit to you, yet you hate me,” I say truthfully.
She shuts off the tap and shakes her hands into the sink before going to the paper towel dispenser to tear off a piece. She wipes her hands, her back to me, and I wait for her response. This has to be some sort of stall tactic.
Whatever. I’ve still got time.
Finally Caitlyn turns to face me, her face blank. No one at this school has emotions, I swear to God. “I don’t hate you.”
I’m taken aback by her simple statement. “I don’t believe you.”
She shrugs. “It’s true. I feel nothing for you. My problem is, I don’t understand why Whit is interested in you so much.”
“He’s not interested in—”
“Don’t bother saying he isn’t when you know it’s not true. I saw the way he stared at you at the restaurant. How he asked everyone on this campus to make your life a total nightmare, only to turn around and call us all off,” she says, admitting to everything I suspected. “He feels something for you, and he doesn’t feel anything about anyone beyond his friends and his family. Certainly never for a girl. He’s a user.”
I stare at her, stunned by her words, though they’re not necessarily a surprise. I’ve just never heard anyone say it so blatantly before.
Caitlyn is describing Whit perfectly.
“So why you?” she asks when I haven’t said anything. “I don’t get it. No one does. You’re not anything special. No offense, by the way, but I don’t see why he’s so fascinated with you. Who are you anyway?”
I remember the first time I saw Whit, at the party at his parents’ apartment. Did it begin then? When we were only fourteen?
“I’m no one,” I finally say, making my way toward the door. “I don’t matter.”
“You do to him,” she reminds me.
Reaching for the handle, I smile at her as I open the door. “I suppose I do,” I say just before I walk out.
