Vandy and the way she looked in my jacket today. I think of how everyone saw it, and the expression on their faces—the awareness—is enough to make me want to sneak over there and get my hands on her.
I’m still thinking of that when I come.
Okay, so maybe some of my restlessness is because Vandy and I haven’t been alone in days. Whether it’s seeing her from afar or sitting next to her in the car with Emory, the result is the same: Biting, acute want. Emory is seriously getting on my fucking nerves. Always there, always watching. I know there was a time I was happy to see him, to hang with my best friend, but the memory is being all fogged up by the way his sister is making my dick hard, twenty-four-seven.
Breathless and too hot in the steam, I cut the water and dry my face, prepared to retire to my bed for a lazy round two.
But when I walk out of the bathroom, there she is.
On my bed.
In my jacket.
Alone.
I’m not going to bullshit myself and pretend a dozen different fantasies don’t start like this. I walk into my room to a hot girl sitting on my bed. In my mind, she’s usually in some kind of lingerie, something sexy and easy to rip off, but seeing my girl, dwarfed in my jacket…
Yeah, that works too.
Really works.
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I’m not sure what my face is saying, but she’s got this wicked little smile that’s making me think I need to lock my door.
I do that.
“I needed some air,” she finally speaks, standing. “Dinner with my mom was kind of…”
I turn to her, rubbing the towel over my face. “Kind of what?”
“Like, an interrogation? A wellness check?” She shrugs, shoulders falling low. “Whatever it was, I didn’t want to be there anymore.”
“So you came here.” Fuck, I like that. I like the fact she relied on me. That she feels comfortable enough to just come over. “Did my dad or… whoever he’s with, let you in?”
“Nah,” she grins, stepping toward me, “those B&E skills came in handy.”
I raise an eyebrow, gaze dropping to her mouth. “I didn’t mean for you to use them against me.”
Her eyes track where the towel in my hand falls on the floor. “So, you want me to leave?”
“Not a chance.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close, trailing my nose over the shell of her ear. “You’ve been teasing me all day, in that shirt. Those jeans. Wearing my jacket.” I bend and lick that little patch of skin beneath her ear, where the mark has faded, feeling her squirm against me. “I’ve been fucking dying to get you alone.”
Her hands splay across my chest, and I slide a hand behind her neck, intent on kissing her long and slow. Deep and unrelenting. There’s not enough time for us to be alone—not with our schedules, her brother, the Devils. She meets my kiss with a vigor that’s causing a situation my towel can’t hide. Her tongue is hot and persistent against mine, and when I lick into her mouth, she surges into me. The movement brushes across the towel and I choke on a groan at the feel of it. Her breath is hot and quick and I push the jacket off her shoulders, dropping it carelessly to the floor.
My fingers tug clumsily at the knot in her shirt, pushing beneath the fabric as we kiss, wet and loud in the stillness of the room. I know it was brave of her to wear this—to show her scars. I never needed Sydney fucking Prescott to tell me about those insecurities. This is something only Vandy and I can really know, having the proof of that night branded into us forever.
She sways towards me when I bend, planting a slow, sweet kiss on the pale flesh.
“Reyn.” Her breath catches, hands grabbing at my sides.
I catch the towel before it falls completely and say, “You keep messing with me, I’m going to lose the towel.”
“Then lose it.” Her tone is daring, eyes lit by a brilliant spark.
I let out this embarrassing half-laugh, half-groan. “Trust me, I am losing it.”
She reaches for her shirt and yanks it over her head. It’s a move so sudden that I have to blink a few times to really process all the skin standing before me. She’s not wearing a bra, and her tits are perfection, soft