Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,185

of shit.”

Heston haphazardly unzips the bag, muttering, “Yeah, well, it’s what I’ve got.” He pulls out a towel and since it’s getting really annoying that he keeps piling things onto my shoulders, I shove his hands away.

“Dry off and get dressed first. I’m okay.” It’s not a lie. The fire is warming me and I’m cocooned in everyone else’s winter wear, but Heston’s just sitting here in his shorts.

He must know that arguing is pointless, because he rolls his eyes and starts pulling on his pants, scrubbing the towel through his hair. When he’s pulled on his shirt, I make him take his jacket back, but all he’ll accept is a trade for the towel.

Still, I pause.

Damp hair all flopped into his face, he watches me, those blue eyes passing a message to mine. Then, he stands up, steps in front of me, and demands, “Everyone turn around.”

Aubrey’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“She needs to change,” he says, voice a touch hostile as he pulls a shirt and a pair of sweats from his bag. “So turn the fuck around. Watch the lake for the fire to catch.”

Aubrey leans around to look at me, ultimately nodding. “Okay, give the girl some privacy. You too, asshole.” Sebastian flinches at the smack she lobs to the back of his head, but reluctantly does as he’s told, allowing me to finally shed the jackets.

It’s warmer by the fire, but the wind still makes my skin prick up. I don’t get very far into clumsily patting my chest with the towel before Heston takes it from me, gently drying my arms. He runs it over my shoulders and belly, crouching down to get my thighs and legs. His eyes follow methodically, aiming his attention at every inch of skin that passes, until I realize why.

He’s checking for cuts.

Probably, he thinks he’s being subtle about it, but I catch the way he lingers on my forearm—the old cut from my compact mirror that’s only recently lost its scab. There’s nothing to find.

When he rises, he shoves the hair from his eyes, gaze sweeping down my body one last time. They pause on my breasts, but quickly flick away, lips pressing into a flat line. “This first,” he says, pushing the shirt over my head. It smells like deodorant and chlorine, but it’s dry and soft. When he instructs me to step into the sweatpants, I use his shoulder to balance myself.

And when he stands back up, looking down at me, his eyes are glued to my lips.

Unconsciously, I dart my tongue out to wet them, belly clenching at the way his eyes darken. “Thank you,” I say, teeth still chattering. The gratitude isn’t just for the clothes, and not even for risking his life to save mine. But I’m not sure how else to say it. Not with words.

I’ve never had to thank anyone for loving me before.

“I’m good,” I tell everyone, expecting that I’ll need to put some distance between us. But just then, there’s a flash of light across the lake, the effigy going up in a column of flames.

They let loose a loud, jubilant cheer.

Heston pulls me back into his chest, head shaking. “This is still the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.”

I tuck myself against him, watching his face as the fire casts it in a warm glow. “Yeah, well, you light your fires and I light mine.”

I ride with Heston to the rendezvous.

Unfortunately, so does Bass.

“What are you doing to this thing?” he asks from the back seat, fingers pulling at his hair. “It sounds like it hasn’t had an oil change since the Bush administration.” Eyes narrowing, he elaborates, “The first one.”

Heston accelerates, looking less bothered by the weird grindy noise than the bitchy brother in his back seat. He growls, “It’s running, isn’t it?”

“Not for much longer,” Bass mutters, double-checking his seatbelt again.

“You could have ridden with someone else,” I point out, not for the first time. Apparently he’d gone to the lake with Emory, who was acting as a designated driver for those who wanted to drink or smoke during the bonfire.

Predictably, that ended up being far too many people for his single truck.

Sebastian scoffs. “And leave you to the mercies of the shit mobile? I don’t fucking think so.”

I release a weary sigh, because it doesn’t take a genius to realize that it’s not really about the car. “I’ve ridden in this car before, Bass.” I stop just short of adding, I’ve ridden the man driving the