Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,156

arms while we were dancing.

The sound of her delighted laughter when I twirled her.

How good it was to be inside her, watching her, feeling and being with her.

I scrub my face. Fuck. That’s what won’t ever be enough. I can stop the gambling. I know I can. But I’m starting to think it’ll be a hell of a lot harder to quit Georgia.

My stomach twinges, followed by a jolt of pain and the old, familiar taste of bile in my throat. I’ve felt better all week. In fact, I haven’t had to take any medicine for a while. But now it’s churning away in there, eating at my insides.

I don’t want to consider the correlation, but I do know that toying with Georgia and her family isn’t something I’m interested in. Not anymore.

Gene will have to be dealt with another way.

I push Collins’ fancy chair back and catch a glance at the two locked drawers in his desk. Pausing to consider them, I put Georgia’s file away, lock the cabinet, and insert the keys into the desk lock instead.

I may not be willing to sell out Georgia any more, but Collins?

That bastard is fair game.

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to make memories tonight?” I ask, propping up on an elbow. Georgia and I have been in bed all day, fucking and napping and eating delivery. “Picking out some slutty little dress and teasing all the boys with those weapons on your chest?”

“Shut up,” she says. “Why can’t you ever stop talking?” The words don’t have any bite to them, though. Her words never have any bite when she’s like this, soft and fucked out.

“I can think of a few things that make me speechless.” I kiss her shoulder. “Seriously though, aren’t you going?”

Her eyebrow raises. “Why? You trying to get rid of me?”

It’s the opposite, actually. I don’t want her to leave. There’s something addictive about Georgia that I can’t get enough of. It’d be easy to say it’s her pussy, but I know it’s more than just the tug in my balls. Sometimes when she’s not here, I’ll roll over and smell her on my pillow, and then wonder where she is and why the answer to that isn’t ‘in my fucking bed’. I can’t admit that, so I arrange my expression into something aloof and shrug. “Just thought it’d be something you’d be into.”

“I just had a ball last weekend. I think I’ve reached my limit on formal wear and pretense.” Rolling her eyes, she adds, “You think I want to sit around and watch V and Reyn achieve epic couple goals, or witness the blooming new love of Caroline and Ozzy while I avoid freshman rapists and bitchy, coked-up, rich girls in the bathroom?” She makes a gagging face. “No, thanks.”

“You truly have a way with words, Haynes.”

“Thank you,” she grins. “I try.” She shifts, attempting to tug the sheet over her tits and pretty much failing. God, they’re big and glorious. “What about you? What are you doing tonight? Chaperoning?”

“Hell no.” I laugh. “Like Collins’ would let me supervise a room full of teenagers. He’d probably accuse me of spiking the punch and defiling the coked-up bitches.” I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers wander down to push away the little bit of sheet she managed to drag over her chest. “I’ll probably go to Underworld. We’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit there all week.”

She stretches like a cat, back arching into my hand when I brush the side of her tit. “I’ll probably just hang out in my room.”

She doesn’t look sad when she says it—just resigned. Much like the ball, it’s not like I could take her to the Homecoming dance, even if either of us wanted it. Plus, I’ve already made those memories. These are hers to make or squander.

So why does it feel like I’m depriving her of something?

I don’t need to look too deep. It was all that bullshit I overheard between Vandy and Caroline about Georgia never having been on a date. She’s never made any hints about wanting that, but I’m not dense. She’s an eighteen-year-old woman. Of course she wants it.

But she can’t possibly want it from me.

Nevertheless, the idea doesn’t leave me—not when we dress, or after I’ve kissed her goodbye. Not even later, when I’m at Underworld, trying to come up with a way to pay an electrician. It nags at me, and once the night