Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,28

with a heavy slap. “I didn’t force you to do a goddamn thing that night.” I can’t help but stare at the taut muscles in his back and the two perfect dimples right above the waistband of his sagging, water-logged jeans.

When I reach down to snap the rubber band, I realize that it’s gone—probably lost in the pool when my arms were thrashing around.

Shit.

He glances back, his ice-blue eyes sweeping over me. “You wanted it. You know you wanted it.”

Hotly, I respond, “I never said I didn’t.”

He whirls to face me, eyebrows crouched low. “You sent the cops after me!”

I can’t argue with that, but it was never about the sex. It was about Sydney. About him threatening Sugar. About the way he was fucking with Bass. The way he bought and sold whoever crossed his path, acquiring leverage, making bets. “I never gave you permission to record us, Heston, and I definitely never said you could spread it around. Do you have any idea what that did to me? Do you even care?” Scoffing, I add, “Who am I talking to? Of course you don’t.”

“I didn’t tell anyone it was you.” He scrubs his fingers aggressively through his hair, sending droplets spraying all over. “And if you’d kept your mouth shut, no one would have ever known.”

“I would have known!” I argue, fighting a shiver at the way he’s looking at me. “I was fourteen, asshole.”

“So what? I was sixteen.” He throws his arms wide, veins in his forearm bulging. “I was trying to build a reputation. That’s what Devils do.” He shrugs like this is acceptable reasoning. If I think there’s anything close to an apology coming next, I’m dead wrong. Instead, he stalks toward me, jaw tense. “You know what I think? I think you got a taste of my dick and you liked it. I think you wanted more. I think you’re being a pissy little bitch because I didn’t come back for seconds.”

“God, you’re so fucking vain.” I flick my eyes down to his crotch. His jeans are wet and clingy. The outline of his cock is well defined. I dig my fingernails into the soft skin of my wrist. “I’ll admit that I went up there willingly. I’ll even admit that I liked it, but I will never admit that I wanted to fuck you again. Ever!”

He stops in front of me, face shuttered. “Really.”

“Really!”

He tilts his head, thumbing his jeans open. “Then why are your nipples so hard?”

“They’re—” My jaw drops, and I cross my hands over my chest. Fuck. They’re sharp as the tip of a knife. “I’m wet, asshole. And cold. It has nothing to do with you!”

“You’re so full of shit,” he says, voice low. “You aren’t even looking me in the eye.”

My eyes jerk up from his happy trail, nails digging harder into my wrist. “Fuck you.”

He drops his pants. He’s commando underneath, absolutely nothing hiding the angry jut of his hard cock. I stare at it, slack-jawed and paralyzed, and I must be drawing blood by now with how hard I’m pressing my nails into my skin.

I tear my eyes away, blood rushing in my ears. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You still want it,” he says, voice hard and unapologetic. “You’ve been thinking about it this whole time.”

“No.” It comes out weak.

“Yes.” He almost seems bored as he reaches out to the strap of my suit, and God. If he touches me, he’s going to find out how warm I am.

So I slap his arm away, my palm landing so hard that it rattles my shoulder. Even though his hand darts out to catch my wrist in a bruising grip, fire blazes through my veins when I meet his gaze. “No one wants to fuck you, Heston. You’re a twenty-one-year-old college drop-out who has no friends, no family, and no future.”

He goes eerily still. I watch as a droplet of water slouches down a lock of his hair, landing on the flat line of his eyebrow. His voice is low and full of warning. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me, asshole.” I clench my teeth against the way my heart thuds, the pinch of his fingers around my wrist. “You’re a pathetic, washed-up loser whose sole accomplishment was peaking in high school. You’re embarrassing.”

In an attempt to pull my wrist free, I strike out with my other hand, but it becomes a frenzied whirr of bone and muscle as he wrestles me