Liar: A Dark College Romance (Hillcrest University Book 6)

by Candace Wondrak

  I didn’t know how that made me feel. Excited? Nervous? Anxious? Happy? I was content with my guys, and I wouldn’t go so far as to say something had been missing, but I’d be a liar if I said I’d be fine if Sawyer stepped out of my life forever.

  Even after getting the okay, a nervousness still sat within my gut, threatening to rise and make me sick. Which was ridiculous in every way, because it was just Sawyer. He shouldn’t get to me, but he did. I lay on my bed, staring at my phone screen, at the last text Sawyer sent me. Tomorrow.

  He wanted to go out on a date tomorrow night.

  I searched for the nearest movie theater, finding showings and the movies that were out. There were quite a few I was interested in, and a part of me wanted to purposefully choose whichever movie I thought Sawyer would hate the most, but that felt a teeny bit too vindictive. No, I’d go for the action-flick we’d both enjoy.

  No handjobs in the theater. No blowjobs either. No jobs in general. He’d be lucky if I let him look at me, let alone touch me. Or me touch him.

  Hmm. Maybe there should be no touching whatsoever, since he and I had a lot of history.

  I screenshotted the movie times and circled the one I wanted to see, sending it to Sawyer, along with the words, Fine. Looks like you and I are going on a date. Better be careful with those hands, boy.

  Why? What’ll you do with me if I’m a bad boy? Winkey face. Was this how he typically was when he texted, or was I just too stunned at this whole thing to realize how normal this was? Was this how Sawyer flirted? The dick probably never had to flirt that hard to get other girls into his bed.

  Or maybe it was me. Maybe the problem was me. I’d never really flirted. Ray had been a whirlwind—and a mistake above all other mistakes. We were hot and cold, mostly hot, but we’d never gone through the witty, flirty banter that seemed more common among people my age. Ray was older, more mature. He didn’t flirt. He just took what he wanted, and I, foolishly head over heels, gave him everything.

  Fuck you, I eventually decided to tell him, grinning to myself as I draped an arm over my eyes. Felt a little weird getting excited for a date while one of my boyfriends was in the room, but as long as everyone was okay with it…maybe it was all in my head.

  Maybe this could actually work.

  Sawyer came back with, When? Give me a time and a place and I’m there.

  “Excited for the date?” Declan’s voice dragged me out of my flirty stupor with my phone and Sawyer, and I sat up, meeting his knowing stare. “It’s okay if you are. I know you like him.”

  Just because it was true didn’t mean he had to be so blatant about it.

  “I never understood why you did, but…” Declan bit the inside of his cheek, looking pensive. “He’s not so bad when he’s not drunk or high, and when he’s not getting the whole campus to gang up on me. I think he could be a good guy, but I don’t think he’s ever really had a reason to be one before.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes falling to the carpet. “There was Sabrina, but…”

  But we all knew what happened there. Sabrina was his little sister, but he’d been too rebellious, too much of a partier to realize that she needed him. Hell, maybe she’d been trying to reach out to him that night before she was killed. Maybe she knew Dean Briggs would try to come after her, and she wanted to come clean. Get her big brother’s help.

  Sawyer had failed her, and he never let himself live it down, even to this day.

  “Maybe you can be good for him,” Declan finished. “I know you’re good for me.” He wore long sleeves, as he usually did, ever since that night, and I watched him absent-mindedly rub the wrist that held the scar.

  One of these days, when things slowed down and I was able to take a breather, Declan and I had to sit down and have a heart-to-heart about that night. The night when I’d found him passed out in the bathroom, blood everywhere. The night I’d found him unresponsive and called 9-1-1, when I first met Will.

  So much had changed since then, between us, between me and all of the guys. We’d grown, survived a murderous stalker, and came out stronger. At least, I hoped we came out stronger. Whether or not we truly did would be up to anyone’s guess.

  “I guess we’ll see,” I said.

  A date with Sawyer. The little bitch wanted me to look nice, and just for that I planned on wearing my rattiest, holiest clothes to spite him. He wouldn’t win a war against me. I was Ash. You didn’t come out the victor when fighting me or trying to one-up me. The person who always got the last word was, of course, me.

  The music was loud. So loud, and frankly kind of annoying. The song the speakers blasted through the house was a song the radio overplayed constantly, as the radio often did anytime a new, catchy song came out. They played it so much you’d rather cut your own ears off than listen to the song again.

  Or maybe that was just me being dramatic.

  I stood in the hall of a familiar house, tons of faceless people around me. Some were trying to talk over the speakers, others had already cut the small talk and were making out. Others were dancing, though the dancers were mainly grinders, and they were in the living room, where the speakers were set up.

  My body wore clothes that were so unlike me it was unreal. A jean skirt—something I hadn’t worn since, you know, third grade—and a low-cut tank top that I couldn’t even remember buying. I reached for my hair, feeling its shoulder-length tresses wavy, as if I’d spent time kinking up the pink bottom and giving it more volume.

  I would never do that. That’s just silly and a waste of time, and so unlike me.

  This whole thing was unlike me, really. Why was I here again? How did I get here? My mind tried running through recent past events, but it came up blank. I couldn’t remember at all, no matter how hard I tried.

  My attention was drawn to the stairs, and my heart skipped a beat as I decided to venture upstairs. Something called out to me, something innate, natural, a guiding force I couldn’t deny. It was almost like a movie played around me, a bunch of people having fun, and yet I felt so different from them, like I wasn’t one of them.

  And I wasn’t. I was me. Always an outsider. The poor among the rich. The girl who tried and failed to deliver Ray Ruiz to police hands.

  I stood at the bottom of the railing, stopping to glance down at my hands. For a split-second, blood sat on my palms, dripping off and falling to the floor. Drip, drip, drip. Warm and gooey, freshly spilled. I wanted to be sick, to throw up, to wipe my hands and never see a drop of blood again—but I was a woman, so I wasn’t so lucky. Blood came hand in hand with being a woman, but this blood…it had come from someone else, not me.

  And that’s what made it worse.

  “Hey.” A low, smooth voice broke into my thoughts, and I jerked my head up, noticing someone stood at the top of the stairs, on the second floor. Sawyer. His blonde hair was a bit spiked at the top, his cheeks shaven clean. He wore a nice blazer, dark jeans that hugged each feature on his lower half, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  Shit. I didn’t want him to see me with blood on my hands.

  But then, when I glanced back down to my hands, the blood was nowhere to be seen.

  Sawyer came down the steps, and while I was still confused, he grabbed a wrist and said, “Come on. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Waiting for me? My mind echoed. Sawyer didn’t wait for anyone, and he certainly never waited for a girl. He had a revolving door near his bed, and the girls came and went in a cycle. I would never be one of those girls. I wasn’t like that. Kelsey might be, but she and I were two very different people. Best friends, but we weren’t the same.

  “Sawyer,” I spoke once I was able to gather my bearings—and realize Sawyer had taken me up the stairs and to his bedroom— “I don’t think we should.” That was the understatement of the year. If we did…things would undoubtedly get messy. How much crazier could my life get? How much more could I handle?

  He released my wrist, moving to close his door, locking us away from the
party. The sheets on his bed were rumpled and used, and a part of me wondered if he’d already had another girl in here tonight. It was Sawyer, after all. I’d just be another notch on his bedpost. Hell, by now, he probably didn’t even have a bedpost, after having made so many notches on them. His bedposts were, figuratively, toothpicks now.

  “Of course you don’t,” Sawyer spoke, giving me a slow, deadly smirk that set my insides on fire. He took a step toward me, cocking his head, wearing a swagger and an attitude that matched.

  Not going to lie, I found him impossibly attractive. The panty-wetting kind of attractive. The thighs clenching of their own accord variety.

  Were my panties wet? Maybe. Were my thighs clenching beneath my jean skirt? Again, maybe.

  “You always want to push me away,” Sawyer went on, moving around me to sit himself on the side of the bed. I reflexively took a step away from him, but he grabbed my wrist again—this time harder. “And I get it. I fuck up. But you know what, Ash? I’m tired of letting you pull away.” His fingers curled around my wrist possessively, and I’d be a liar if I claimed to not find it a little hot.

  There was something inherently sexy about a man telling you that you were his.

  “No more,” he added, spreading his knees and pulling me between them. “I’m not going to let you.”

  This felt like a weird deja vu moment, but as I stood there, only half a foot taller than his sitting form, I couldn’t help but feel the heat rising in my lower gut, blossoming and spreading throughout my body. His emerald eyes spoke nothing but the truth; even though he might act overly cocky, I could see it in his stare.

  He needed me. He might’ve fucked around before, but right here, right now, Sawyer needed me—and I needed him.

  Sawyer only held onto one wrist, so I brought my other hand to his face, running it along his cheek, watching as he closed his eyes and turned his face inward towards my palm. The grip on my wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go of me. He was probably nervous that I’d run out of here the moment he did, but he had nothing to worry about.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  His skin was warm on mine, and my heart sped up in my chest the moment my hand grazed the edge of his mouth. Those lips…never had I seen a more entrancing set. My fingers found his chin, and I tilted his head up. His green eyes peeked open, half-lidded slits as he stared up at me, taking on an air of vulnerability I never thought I’d see on Sawyer’s face.

  He might act confident, he might walk around like he had a ten-inch dick and knew how to use it, but he was just as broken as I was. As we all were. He was a broken vase; other girls had tried to put him together again, but they couldn’t. Their glue could never fix him. Me? I wasn’t going to fix him…I was going to make him something new. A Sawyer the world had never seen.

  My thumb ran across his bottom lip, and he responded by parting those tempting lips, wordlessly inviting me to taste him.

  I bent my neck, inching closer to him on the bed, my hand still cupping the entire left side of his face. Our lips met, and it was like fireworks, loud and bright, sizzling and hot. The world faded away around us, and I devoured him. He gave me everything in that kiss, and I took it all like the greedy bitch I was. Sawyer released his hold on my wrist, only to wrap both arms around my waist, pinning me to his sitting form, as if I was suddenly going to decide to stop and run away.

  No more running.

  This was it.

  Time to face facts, and right now the facts all pointed in one direction: Sawyer Salvatore. Never thought the fucked-up party-boy would be my salvation, but here I was, desperately needing him, with a one-track mind.

  God, I wanted to rip his clothes off and lick every single muscle I knew was on his body. I wanted to run my hands along him, taking mental pictures as I went. I wanted to not only feel that dick but see it as well.

  Short version: everything. I wanted everything from him, and I wouldn’t stop until I got it.

  The moment I ran my tongue over his bottom lip, Sawyer took control. My tongue coming into play was apparently too much for him, because he tore his mouth off mine, a wild look in his eyes, and he threw me to the bed beside him, crawling on after me, pinning me down with his strong frame. A growing hardness prodded my upper thighs, and I stifled a moan. It felt like so long since that day at the zoo, when I’d taken that thing in my hands and jerked him off.

  Funny thing was, I could hardly remember the details. All I knew was that I’d touched that cock before, and I wanted to touch it again. More, more, more.

  His hands roamed my body, above my clothes at first, but then he grew greedy, and I let him snake his hands under my shirt. The moment he cupped my breasts, fingers toying with my hardened nipples, I groaned and arched my back under him.

  “Tell me you want me,” Sawyer whispered, his lips brushing against my ear with every word.

  “I want you.” The words came out breathless, needy. I could hardly get them out, already out of breath. When he was inside me, I bet I wouldn’t be able to breathe at all, too focused on the feeling of his thick cock filling me up.

  God, I couldn’t believe Sawyer and I were finally about to be together. To seal the deal. To do what I’d been fighting against for so long. Honestly? It felt like a long time coming, like this was the finish line for me.

  Sawyer’s mouth roamed to my neck, and his teeth grazed a sensitive area of flesh as he whispered, “I want you more.” His hands left my chest, moving south of my waist, fiddling with the button on my skirt before pulling down the zipper.

  Straight to business, huh? I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to get right to it, too. This had been a long time coming, and I was so ready for it I was probably dripping.

  As he pulled down my skirt and the panties under it, freeing my bottom half from its clothing, I grabbed him and reversed positions, straddling him. With his green eyes on me, I tore off my shirt and tossed it to the floor. Next off was my bra. And then I straddled him naked, while he still wore way too many clothes.

  My hands roamed along his blazer, but I didn’t like feeling the thick fabric between my skin and his, so I helped him take it off, along with the undershirt beneath it, and once he laid back down, I was able to view Sawyer’s chest and abdomen with nothing interfering. Square, hard pectoral muscles that tensed every time I ran my hands along them. Six tiny squares above his stomach, two tiny new ones starting to form at the bottom. The bastard nearly had an eight-pack.

  How the hell was a girl supposed to cope when faced with a body like this?

  And I didn’t even mention the V-shape that pointed toward his crotch, where his hard dick sat, waiting to be released.

  Sawyer’s body was sculpted by God himself. There was no other explanation. It was perfect in every way, tan and muscled and ridiculously sexy. I would lick chocolate off this body. Hell, I’d lick damn near anything off this body with a smile on my face.

  A little much?

  No, not when it came to Sawyer’s godlike musculature.

  “Well?” Sawyer asked, his head resting on his pillow. His lips quirked into a half-smirk, and he said, “If you don’t take off my pants, I’m going to, and then I’m going to ride you all night, Ash.”

  “All night, huh?”

  “It’s called stamina. Your other boyfriends might not have it, but I do.”

  My other boyfriends?

  Right, right. I had Declan, Travis, Will. Were they okay with this?

  My nagging doubt continued to rise in my mind, even as I shimmied down and started to undo his pants.

  But, in the end, it didn’t matter, because not a moment later, my eyes opened, and I realized as I gazed at the darkened ceiling above me, it was just a dream.

  Just a dream. No Sawyer in my bed with me. No Declan, either. I’d opted to sleep alone tonight, which was probably a good thing.

  A sex dream about Sawyer. It was better than dreaming about my past, that’s for sure.

  I rolled onto my side, my skin flushed. T
he space between my legs was warm, as if I’d been clenching my thighs in my sleep. No way in hell I’d be able to fall back asleep, not with my heart racing and my body so worked up. My body rared to go, but I had nowhere to go…

  And then I remembered Declan sleeping in his bed not too far from my current position.

  Hmm. Would it be weird if I woke him up to fuck him after having a sex dream of Sawyer? I mean, things like that had to happen with other girls who had more than one boyfriend, right? I wasn’t alone in this confused, horny state, was I?

  I didn’t let myself think about it too long. I rolled out of bed, tiptoed to Declan’s, and through the moonlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds, I saw he was on his side. “Declan,” I whispered, setting a hand on his arm.

  He rolled to face me, blinking. Still super groggy, but kind of awake. “Ash? What is it? Is something wrong—” He got up way too fast, and I stopped him from flying out of the bed.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I said, pushing him back down, flat onto his back. No panic attacks, no running away. Nothing at all was wrong; my body just needed some relief. “I need your help with something.”

  Declan didn’t hesitate, because he wasn’t like that. He’d do anything for me. “Anything.”

  “Let me fuck you.” My words were blatant and rough, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know how else to say it without begging, and now was not the time I wanted to get on my knees and beg. I’d woken up before that dream got to the good stuff, so I needed to fill my quota.

  That got him to wake up a bit. And probably his dick to perk up. “What?” He blinked, lifting his head up as he stared at me through the darkness. “You want to…” He trailed off, unable to say it. Out of all of my boyfriends, Declan was the least crude. He got embarrassed easily, which I found ironic, considering the things he and Travis had done to me.