Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,159

problems at Underworld?”

He looks away, letting his arm slide from my waist. “Nah, just…stuff.” It’s unavoidably vague, and the way he shifts his gaze to the side, mouth tight, makes me think that’s intentional.

“Oh.” I’d ask for details, but something tells me it wouldn’t be welcome. “Well, maybe next time.”

Either it’s the tone, or the fact I’m referencing my blow off to Vandy, but he reaches out to grab me under the chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just…” He rolls his eyes to the side, looking more annoyed at himself than me. “Personal shit.”

“Yeah?” I tilt my head, wondering, “Would that have anything to do with that bartender who keeps blowing up your phone? Tara?”

He gives me a slow, wry grin. “So we’re doing jealousy now?”

I shove his wrist away, instantly linking our fingers together to soften the blow. “I’m not jealous, I’m just curious.”

He holds my gaze, and looking at him now, I can see how tired he looks. “Tara isn’t personal. She’s work.” Tugging me closer, he adds, “And nowhere near as hot as you. I don’t trade down. Plus, you and I have a deal about straying, right?”

I begrudgingly wind my arms around his neck, feeling a little better at the obvious bulge pressing into my belly. “So you’ll be around later?”

“How about this?” He takes his keys out of his pocket, twisting one from the ring. “I probably won’t be back until late, but you can go to my place tonight. Write your paper, take a nap,” He leans in to gruffly suggest, “get naked, lube your ass up for me. You know, a proper welcome.” I know from the sly smirk curving his lips that this is his way of asking. Truthfully, I’m surprised he’s waited this long.

I snatch the key, scoffing. “If you want anal, then you have to show up and put in the work.”

“Fine,” he sighs, spinning me toward the door, obviously in a rush. Before it opens, he whispers into my ear, “Just leave the lube out and I’ll do it myself.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

It’s still there even hours later as I’m leaving the library, laptop tucked under my arm. History research is probably the worst genre of school work, but at least I’m not as distracted by Mr. Francis as I used to be. In fact, I haven’t gotten lost in hours of fantasizing in weeks. Part of it that the object of all my fantasies is usually up for, like, fulfilling them. But another part is that I don’t really want to know what it’s like with anyone else. Heston is so fucking good—everything about the way he moves, the way he fucks, the way he is after, always touching me, pressing his lips to any available patch of naked skin—especially my boobs.

I’m just thinking about heading over to his apartment when I run into Ozzy.

“Oh, hey!” I’m breathless, realizing now that I’d basically been power-walking. Impatient much? “How are you? Oh! I heard about Homecoming.” I give him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Way to go, slugger.”

He’d asked Caroline the day before the dance, which would usually be a huge faux pas in the world of teen dance etiquette, but Caroline didn’t seem anything but thrilled. I’d lent her one of my more modest dresses and spent way too much of the morning doing hair and makeup for someone who didn’t even attend.

Ozzy gives me a stiff smile. “Yeah, yeah, it was great. Well, you know. As far as dances go.” He gives me a look that says a ball and Homecoming have met his formalwear quota for the year.

“I’m glad the two of you are…” I make a gesture that’s indecipherable, because I’m not sure if they’ve put a name to it yet. “Whatever you are.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He nods, giving me a strange look. “Could I, like, talk to you for a second?”

I blink at his grim tone. “Sure.”

He looks around, adding, “Not here, though.”

“Uh…” I follow his gaze down the hall. “Okay? Lead the way.”

He directs me to the computer lab a corridor away from the library, silent the whole way. Just seeing the high, tense curve of his shoulders makes my stomach fill with a sense of doom.

“Is this about Caroline?” I ask when he shuts the door behind us. “Because look, she really likes you, and if—”

“No,” he cuts me off, swiping a hand through the air. “Caroline is great. Amazing, even. And