Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,150

me if everyone saw me dancing with you.”

I follow his eyes across the room to where a stern-looking, elegantly dressed woman is sitting. She’s sipping on a flute of champagne and shooting daggers at me over the rim. I glance away, face heating. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” At least Ferguson sounds a bit bummed about it, and for a moment, it’s almost like I’ve found an ally. Here, like this, we’re just two kids being unfairly herded by our snobby, overbearing parents. Then he whispers, “But hey, if you wanted to find me after,” giving me this quick, leering glance that has my insides shriveling up. “I’ve been dying to take your pussy for a ride, Haynes.”

My spine snaps so straight that it’s a miracle it doesn’t fracture. “Excuse me?”

At least he has the sense to look abashed, eyebrows furrowing. “I just meant…everyone talks about it. I’m the only guy in my group of friends who hasn’t gotten some yet, so I thought—”

“You thought that I’m worth fucking, but not sharing a public dance with?”

“Well…” He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “…yeah.”

The worst part about it is the way he says it, all baffled and small. There isn’t an ounce of unkindness in his tone. It’s like someone just asked him if the sky is blue and he thinks it might be a trick, but facts are facts.

The sky is blue.

Georgia Haynes is for fucking and nothing more.

I look back at his mother. No doubt the rumors have reached her, which is exactly why she can’t have her fine, upstanding, misogynist son seen with the likes of me. Any other day, I might have walked away, stowed myself in some nook and blinked back my tears.

Today, I shimmy up against him, resting my hand on his chest as I gaze up longingly into his eyes. He gawks at me, body going so stiff that his lips barely move when he asks, “What are you doing?”

I give his chest a little rub, pouting. “But Fergie, didn’t you like it?”

He flinches at how loud my voice is, hands reaching up to grasp my shoulders. “What the hell? Get off me!”

“You said last night was special!” I cry, noting the small audience we’re drawing to our left. “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t care if it’s small. We can work around it. Don’t you want to be with me again?”

He shoves me off hard enough that I stumble back, twisting my ankle in my heels. Ferguson doesn’t look troubled at the pained sound I make, sneering down at me as he straightens his jacket. “No one wants you, you trashy bitch.” He strolls off like nothing just happened, but I can see his mother across the room, looking apoplectic.

That’s what you get.

Unfortunately, my mother was watching, too. “What on earth was that about?” she asks, pulling me aside.

I shrug, trying to ignore the pang in my ankle. “He wasn’t interested.”

“You practically threw yourself at him!” Huffing, she gives a sharp shake of her head. “Until you’ve learned how to properly approach a man, I suppose I’ll have to supervise.”

This apparently means personally taking me around the room to appropriate suitors. It should feel incredibly demeaning, being paraded around like a bauble at auction. I don’t actually get a chance to feel it, though.

“Devon is here with Alicia,” Mrs. Monroe says, sniffing haughtily as she drags her son away. Devon gives me a second hopeful glance, however. Probably eager for another round, seeing as how I fucked him last year on the tennis courts during the Memorial Day fireworks.

Mrs. Bellam gives me the stink-eye and says to my mother, “Terribly sorry, but William can’t dance. He has a medical condition.” Brazen of her, given that he was just dancing ten minutes ago. Plus, I don’t remember there being any medical condition when he was doing me doggy-style at that party sophomore year.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawlor don’t even let us come near their dear, sweet Cameron. As soon as we get close, they scamper away, shoving him along.

By her sixth attempt at approaching a family, my mother is fuming. “This is humiliating. Why are you laughing?”

Because if I don’t, I’ll cry.

I take a sip from my flute of sparkling grape juice. “Maybe if my tiara was bigger? You know, since all of those boys have gotten the milk, we should probably show them that the cow is coming with a nice chunk of jewels.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Her mouth gathers