by Kat Kenyon
Her eyes are wide and she’s not breathing, staring across the lot.
Following her line of sight, we both see an apoplectic, six-foot blond standing at a parked car several rows away with a bag thrown over his shoulder. His eyes flick between the two of us, red infusing his face. Then the bag drops to the ground.
“Get in the truck, Rayne. Don’t look at him.”
She steps up on the step-rail when he yells her name.
When I head around the back of the truck, we face each other from twenty yards away. His chest heaves, and I want to go pound him, but with my hand, I’m hamstrung. He knows it, too, because he gives my cast a smug look. Not that I’ll let that stop me.
My decision to end this shit gets interrupted by Rayne.
“Tyler, no! I called Dean Lister, and he said they’ll take care of it right away.” She’s almost in tears and yelling out her frustration at the sky, at him, as he stares at us with venom.
Snapping my eyes to her, I growl.
“He can’t ignore them now,” she says, eyes pleading with me to get in the truck. “They know he’s on campus. He can’t ignore them now, and you can’t get in trouble.”
I force myself to get into the cab because getting her out of here is what’s important, not my own rage. The school can do their job, I’ll do mine
I swing us past him on the way to the exit, and he stands motionless, watching us leave, bag on the ground and fists clenched at his sides.
The image sends an ugly sense of foreboding through me.
The drive is tense after she calls the dean’s office again. She doesn’t want to talk about it, and I’m still pissed off and worried when we pull in.
We don’t hide what’s going on from Tegan and Tate, who share how bad it’s gotten with me, to Rayne’s horror. It takes effort to push the mood back to positive, but we do. Over boats of sashimi, we talk about the wrestling season, tennis, and Rayne’s upcoming performances.
There’s a ton going on this semester and now, it’s not about me. Even with Rayne cutting her job to half the hours, she’ll still be busy. It will make her life easier whether she likes it or not. And her not working nights lifts some of the worry weighing my mind. No matter what they say, I’m afraid Gabe isn’t going anywhere.
“You able to find someone to trade rooms with?” Tegan asks me.
My issues with my roommate aren’t resolved, and I doubt they ever will be. “Nope. I’m fucking stuck.”
I spent the last half of break looking for an exit from Wyatt, but haven’t found anyone willing to take him on, and I really want to move into Kinsington, but no one’s bowing out.
Tate shakes her chopsticks at me. “Well, you practically live with us, anyway.”
“Is that an issue?” I’m hoping it’s not.
“Nope.” She laughs on a bite and almost chokes herself. “So does he,” she says, thumbing toward Tegs.
He shrugs, nodding with a self-satisfied grin. “Um, your room is my room. It looks better, smells better, has better food, a better bed, and I like it there, even when you’re there.”
I can’t help but shake my head at him. I don’t know how he gets by saying shit like that all the time, but he does. And I say so.
“What are you talkin’ about? I may say things, but you two are loud as fuck, and the shit you say during sexy time, she’d kill me for,” he says, sending a thumb back Tate’s way.
Rolling my eyes and ignoring the blush and choking sound coming from both girls, I stare him straight in the eye. “That means you aren’t doing it right.”
His baby-faced mug freezes. His eyes shift to Rayne. I can see those gears turning.
Giving him a warning look, I shake my head. “Don’t look at her, look at me. Or Tate. That one’s mine.”
“You telling me if I use the chub the right way, she’s gonna let me spank her?” He looks at Tate and then at me.
Tate punches him in the arm and I grin right into his excited baby blues, arching my brow. “You let her beat on you because she does it right.”
The leering grin that has been missing from his frozen face reappears.
“Oh God,” Rayne mutters from my side.
I pop a roll in my mouth and give her a shit-eating grin. “What? It’s true.”
Tegs swivels his head and focuses all his dirty thoughts on Tate, who stares at him with trepidation and interest. “No. Just no.”
“We’ll see.” His grin gets bigger.
“No,” Tate practically moans.
A flash of heat between them sends my grin back to Rayne. I don’t have to see to know what he’s doing under the table. I can guess what I’d be doing.
“We’ll see,” Tegs says slower.
Tate’s voice cracks as she puffs out, “Yeah, we’ll see.”
Rayne bursts into laughter against my shoulder, shaking as I keep popping rolls.
Nothing like helping a brother out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rayne Mathews
“Just five more minutes.”
The giggle I’ve been holding in escapes. This is his thing. It’s always been his thing. But we have class and a schedule today.
“No, get up.” I try to roll away from the leg, arm, and partial body that has me trapped.
“No, stay where it’s warm.” He reaches with his good hand to cup my breast.
“Tyler—”
“I know, we have to get up.” He sighs into my skin.
“Since when are you the sleep-in guy?” I giggle and bite his delt.
Warm kisses drop along my neck. “Since I don’t have someone checking every aspect of my workout. And you’re warm and sexy.” His hand snakes down, slipping a finger into my wetness. “And you’re naked.”
“Tyler—”
“Ten more minutes, Rayne.”
My breathing becomes erratic as another finger joins in. “Make it twenty.”
“That’s right.” He groans, rolling his hard dick against me. “Make it twenty.”
Even with his injured hand, he pulls me back under him with ease and hitches my leg up around his waist. He slips inside me at the same time he kisses me. Every part of him invades and infuses me with a sense of love and the power he’s holding back.
I know how badly he wants to fold me up, squeeze harder.
Biting his lower lip, I pull back and tilt my neck, inviting the suction I know will start the minute he sees the fading mark. He’s obsessed with that hickey. Something you don’t allow after you’re fifteen, but he finds massive satisfaction in. He doesn’t care if I cover it with makeup, he just likes knowing it’s there, and seeing it when we come.
Which is what he’s doing. His amazing mouth moves from my neck to my nipples, curving his body to pulse his hips into me. I can’t stop the scream that starts to break free.
His golden eyes catch me, as his uninjured hand covers my mouth, his chest pinning me, as he hisses in my ear. “No, baby, nobody else gets to hear you. Not this. Tegs and Tate are one thing, but I’m not sharing this with anyone else.”
His hips rock back and forth. “No one else gets to hear how good you sound when I fuck you.”
Each word makes me crazy. The feel of him above me, the intensity of his words, the quickening of his pace, I can’t handle it, I detonate. When I do, I scream into his hand. My orgasm is never-ending and leaves me begging.
I beg him to keep going, to stop, and he chews on my shoulder, making my pussy clamp down. It’s so intense it’s almost painful. When I beg him to fuck me harder, he rises above me on his knees.
He’s glowing from the exertion, dick slick. When he spreads his knees, he parts me wider.
“You’re gonna come till I let you stop,” he promises, licking his thumb and rubbing my clit. My lingering orgasm breaks out again, along with my pleas.
“Be quiet, or I’ll stop.” Giving me a look of warning, he wraps his encased forearm around my ass and grabs my throat gently with his good hand. Angled with my ass in the air,
head on the bed, stretched out, I’m vulnerable and utterly safe.
The pace he sets is brutal. He pistons into me over and over. The grip he has wraps up under my jaw and represents the kind of ownership embodied by mine, and I welcome it, breathe into it. Each push of my limits makes our lovemaking hotter, the pain, the pleasure. Our passion becomes a living thing.
We both bite down on a silent scream that comes with the muscle-tearing orgasm that rips through us both. I see every neck muscle, tendon, and vein pop as he releases in me, his thumb pressing into the pulsing beat in my neck.
I feel him. We’ve found a high-frequency wavelength no one else is on and ride it like an electrical race to completion.
“What?” I ask to the question in his eyes as he pulls me on top of him. He always asks when I look thoughtful, and he always really wants to know.
“What are you thinking?” His fingertips trail along my heated skin.
“I’m thinking I love you and I’m really happy.”
His answering smile is gorgeous. “Me too. And I want a shower with you. And breakfast. Just for today, let’s play hooky on cardio. Would my very hot girlfriend be willing to do that for me?”
Giggling, I throw the sheet over our heads. “Yes. She would.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tyler Blackman
This semester is going to be great.
I get to see Rayne during the day. We have a couple classes together, including a dance class I let be a surprise until after I registered.
Life is good, except for my hand, and even that’ll heal as long as I keep up with physical therapy. I’ve turned off my voicemail so the messages from the press and Dad have nowhere to go. If they need to talk, they can send a message I have control over.
Plus, I’m still seeing my therapist, something Mom and Coach both agreed was important. It’s fine with me because I want to be as stable as possible for Rayne, and over the last couple months, I’ve realized it is helping me.
“Tyler.”
“Huh?” She caught me off in my own world for a moment. Even though we’re eating in a packed cafeteria, I lost focus.
“Do you want me to walk to class with you?”
Looking out the giant windows at the rain, I shake my head. “Nope. Stay here and work on your homework. I’m good.” Standing with my bag, I lean over and give her a kiss. “I’ll see you in Statistics.”
My class is quick. It looks like it’ll be tough, but nothing like Materials last semester. When we’re released, I head for the stats class I’m in with Rayne and Ethan.
When I get closer, I see them heading toward me at a jog in the rain, the drizzle one of the joys of California in winter. I hold open the door for them to run through, then get inside myself.
Our class is raucous when we enter the room, packed with athletes in need of a math class. It’s a fairly small room, full of long, narrow tables with simple chairs, four to a table, facing the front. Most of the people in the room are upperclassmen, so Rayne and I are among the youngest.
Brian, the quarterback taking over for McVey next year, is in the back and saved seats for us. Heavy, wet backpacks hit the concrete as we all struggle out of hoodies and jackets.
We weren’t that early, so we try to settle quickly, but even as the hands on the clock pass the hour, the professor still isn’t there. Taking advantage, I pull Rayne onto my lap, rocking my legs under her back and forth so she’ll have to hold on.
Rayne and I are giving shit to the basketball players behind us when Ethan slaps my thigh. Annoyed, I wave him off.
He hits me again, only this time it’s harder, and it’s definitely a demand for my attention. Since he hasn’t said anything, I know he doesn’t want anyone to notice.
Giving a laugh and a nod to the guys behind us, I glance at Ethan over Rayne’s shoulder. He never looks at me, instead, his black glare is directed at the door.
Gabe Stevens strolls through the door and looks around. When he sees her on my lap, he stalks toward us, seething.
The blond fucker takes the last seat at the table in front of us, directly in Rayne’s line of sight. When his chair slams down, it snaps me out of my shock.
There’s no way he can be in this class. He’s supposed to be banned from campus, but instead, he’s getting comfortable. The administration better not have allowed this.
Patting her ass to stand her up, I sit her in her chair. “Stay there. No matter what, you stay right there.”
Her breathing stalls when she looks forward and sees him, and I want to snap his neck. Looking at Brian, I nod toward her and wait for him to tip his head. I slap Ethan’s back, and he stands next to me, moving between them as I storm for the door.
I’m in no condition to knock this guy out, and that isn’t the right way to handle this, no matter how much I’d like to beat him senseless. I may not know what’s going on, but I know he isn’t staying.
Standing outside the classroom, I wait for the professor, fully intending to make sure this is taken care of today. When the guy shows he’s ten minutes late, ten minutes I know she’s been scared and stressed out.
I don’t let him pass me, even when he says we can talk later. Instead, I block the door and walk him through the situation. That takes five minutes. I tell him he has to get Gabe out of the room. Then I have to demand. That takes three. Then he has to call Dean Lister, who tells him Gabe shouldn’t be there. That takes another ten.
By the time it’s all done, thirty minutes have passed. Thirty fucking minutes too long. Half of our first class has gone by and the damn prof looks like he’s going to hyperventilate.
“We’ll get him out of there as soon as possible,” he says, running a frazzled hand through his hair.
“We’ll make sure he leaves, now.”
Shaking his head, he glances over my shoulder. “Absolutely not. We need campus security; they’ll take him to the admin building. The dean wants to talk to him.”
“Great, call campus security, but he needs to get out of that room. He’s been in there too long with her.”
“Son—”
“I’m not your son, and she’s not open for discussion. He’s been banned from campus because of what he’s done to her. You can’t let him stay in there and scare her.”
He pulls up his phone again and quickly sends a text, likely to campus security. “You will not take action,” he says. “But, let’s go inside and see what’s happening.”
I want to push harder, but he assures me they’ll be there soon, and I don’t like being away from her with Gabe in there.
When we get inside, the asshole’s sitting stone-faced, staring straight ahead. He doesn’t even look toward the door like the rest of the students, who whip to watch us, then back to the hostile mass of ballers in the back.
If he was hoping to look less menacing, he failed, because it’s jarring to see him sitting so rigid in complete silence.
I want to hurt you.
“Students, please take your seats. I—” Our professor stutters as he drops his bags. “I’m sorry I was late. We have a little issue with some of the registrations. We’ll just cover the course today and I’ll send everyone a revised syllabus to your emails tonight. Expect it and your assignments tonight.”
I glare at him. The fucking coward is really going to wait for campus security while she sits pale and shaking. I don’t have a lot of options to force the issue, so I go and sit with Rayne, who, even surrounded, buries her head in my chest.
“It’ll be fine,” says Brian, nodding in solidarity with Ethan.
Damn right, I’m going to make it fine.
Ten minutes later, I hear a sound at the door, and the professor finally nods at me.
Fucking finally!
“Mr. Stevens, I believe there’s an issue with your registration in this class. Could you go to Dean Lister’s office and discuss it with them?” His hands shake while he says it. He glances at the door where campus security is standing.
“Nope, I’m in the right class.” Gabe’s body is ramrod straight, his voice stiff, laced with rage.
“I’m sorry, but there is a problem. Please go to the dean’s office, now.”
The silence in the room enhances the ambient noise. The air pumped through the vents; the rain tapping against the roof and hitting the windows, even the individually held breaths all sound so loud in the silence, it’s a cacophony.
Campus security steps through the door and Gabe doesn’t move. One of the guards takes another step inside and points at the door, the entire room staring in suspended animation. His book and notebook being thrown into his bag is a thunderclap that makes everyone jump.
When he stands, he looks at the floor instead of forward, and I wait. I know…I know that’s not it. As he hits the door, he looks right at Rayne. The stone face is gone. He’s livid. And it isn’t directed at me. He blames her.
Fuck!
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rayne Mathews
The dean called me to let me know Gabe was served with his expulsion papers as well as his notification of the ban right after my last class yesterday. Campus security went with him to clear his dorm room and then escorted him off campus. For the first time in a long time, I breathed a sigh of relief. He’s been held accountable, and I’m free.
After that, my day went fast, the sun feeling like it shone through the rain. And the next morning was amazing.
The morning crew isn’t quite the same, but Bay joined us. Most of the football players still coming to the gym are prepping for the Combine. They’re digging deep to not just perform, but improve so they can take advantage of the opportunity the national workout provides.
With the drop off of the football team, the rest of the machines are filled with basketball players now deep in competition, and the other teams who have moved from optional to mandatory workout schedules.
My new work schedule has me working Tuesdays and Thursdays for three hours right after my workout, then Advanced Chemistry. I’m taking it with Vin this term, so I have a ready study buddy, but I’ve only got a half hour to grab a bite and meet him there.
