Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I chuckle. “I’ve accepted I’m attracted to guys a long time ago. Another sign you’re not great at reading people.”
“I already know I’m fucked when it comes to reading you.”
“Then maybe you should stop trying.” I consider taking another hit, but the rush I’m getting from staring Dax down is just as satisfying. I don’t deny that there’s chemistry here—fuck, it’s potent, lingering in the air…and I’m sure it’s my high that’s allowing me to enjoy it as much as I am.
And when Dax’s gaze sinks to my lips, I can’t help but lick them. His gaze sinks even lower, settling on my crotch, and I suddenly realize why.
Fuck. I’m hard as hell.
His eyes meet mine once again. I shrug, and his lips twist into an adorable dimple.
Adorable?
I need to get the fuck out of here, but instead I lean closer. “You should go back to your friends and talk about how the Omega Psi who set Sigma Alpha on fire last year is such an asshole and shouldn’t be allowed back to any parties.”
“Who follows guys home at night?” he presses.
Up until now, he’s only acknowledged I helped him back to Alpha Theta Mu, not that he realized I was following him, but how could he not?
“Maybe I was taking the scenic route back to my apartment.” The way I say it, I’m not even willing to tell a flat-out lie. Just dance around it.
“Is that what you were doing? Heading back to your apartment?” he asks, calling me out on my bullshit.
Part of me knows I should just blow him off, yet I keep doing that, and here he is. Another part of me realizes this could be the moment. He already thinks the worst of me, so what does it matter. Maybe I can finally scare him off once and for all.
“No,” I admit. “I was following you.”
He studies my face, his breath hitching. I don’t know if he’s scared or intrigued.
“I saw you drinking, and I didn’t know if you’d make it home all right.”
“That doesn’t sound like such a terrible thing.”
“Then ask me how I know you’d been drinking too much.”
He does, and I spit out, “Because I was keeping an eye on you all night.” I wish I weren’t so fucking impulsive. I shouldn’t be admitting to any of this—it’s the sort of thing he could easily report to the university and have me expelled, and fuck if I need any more problems, but I don’t shut my mouth. “I was watching you, Dax, like a predator keeps an eye on its prey.”
He gulps but doesn’t look frightened—he looks almost excited. “Why were you watching me?”
“Because you smile, and the world’s a different color, lighter. And you like people and they like you. When your friends see you, they believe the world is good and just. And I don’t know, maybe it bugs me. Maybe all I want is to be the one to remind you of how dark the world can be. Maybe I wanna ruin your fucking life, Dax, so that you’ll be just as miserable as I am…because that’s the sick monster I am.” It’s not that I want to ruin his life, but I fear that’s what would happen if he fucked around with me. That there’s something evil inside me that would drag him down to this dark place I can’t get out of.
A place of pain.
Guilt.
But mostly shame.
Dax’s eyes flare as he seems to catch the weight of what I’m telling him.
The tension’s too much for me, so I enjoy another drag of my joint before adding, “You get it now, why you need to stay away from me?”
He nods, but otherwise he’s atypically quiet. Maybe he finally appreciates just how serious I am.
After a moment, he says, “But you helped me that night. And tonight.”
“Yeah, because everyone may think I’m just a bastard who fucks shit up, but you think I like this part of myself? You think I enjoy thinking that I want to fuck shit up? Fuck no. It’s just this demon in me, and I’m the only one who can stop it.”
“Miles…”
But I don’t want to answer another goddamn question—hell, I’ve said too much already—so I lurch forward, pressing my mouth to his, silencing him, relieved that he can’t get another word out. As he kisses me back, I taste tequila with a drop of my own blood. I push him back to the wall, my body gravitating to him…
It shouldn’t surprise me that a guy with Dax’s experience can kiss, but damn, and as his tongue greets mine, all these fucked-up thoughts in my head—the noise, the screaming—fade into the background. I’m hooked on wanting to keep it all at bay, which leaves me lingering on this kiss.
Even with what I’ve shared, Dax isn’t fighting me, which is a fucking shock, but I’m so selfish, I don’t care. Just like with anything else that can give me a moment of relief, I take what I can get, and he’s too generous. When I finally manage an ounce of restraint, I pull away.