Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,41

can ask Jase—” I spin looking for him, but Coach James blew his whistle, and the kid vanished with the rest of his class into the locker rooms. Thanks a lot, Freshman. Even Micha bolted. Not that I blame him.

“Get busy,” he says, stepping over a big puddle.

I stare at the messy closet. The floor is covered in kickboards, fins, and other pieces of equipment. It’s not the worst job in the world. That trophy will definitely go to the showers. It just isn’t fucking fair.

Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?

I stomp behind him, bare feet slapping on the tile. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Doing what?” His blond hair is damp—a sign that he’d at some point been swimming.

“Being an asshole to me.”

He whirls on me, jaw flexing. “This class is about learning to swim, not flirting with horny little boys.”

I gape at him, blinking hard. “You’re mad that someone was paying me a little harmless attention?”

“Mad?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’d have to care to feel mad. I just need you focused on class, not shoving your tits in every guy’s face.”

“So you’re a cockblocker now, too?” Not that I was going to hook up with Jase. It’s just the principle of the thing.

He shoves a finger at me, prodding it into the skin below my throat. “You’re here to learn, not to hook up. This is my time. Don’t waste it.” He finally turns around and walks back to the closet, adding, “I’m actually your teacher, you know. You’re supposed to show a little respect.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I laugh, aware that’s a touch hysterical. “Respect? There’s no one I respect less than you, and you know it. This is all about making a fool out of me. Just admit it. You’d love to see me fail this class. The thought of humiliating me probably gives you wood.”

He stops at a shelf in the closet, eyes rolling. “You really think a lot of yourself. I’m here to teach you how to swim, and I can’t do that if you’re dicking around. So yeah, this is about you learning to respect my authority, whether you fucking like it or not.” He pauses, looking me up and down. I don’t like the way his expression shifts from stony and pinched to this…calculating thing. “That is,” he says, propping a forearm against the shelf, hemming me in. “Unless you want to work it off another way.”

I freeze, twisting my finger in the rubber band. “Excuse me?”

He steps closer. We’re deep inside the closet now. “Don’t play dumb, Little Red. You heard me.” He looms over me, the light from the closet bright enough to send his features into sharp relief. “You’re still coming to class in this ugly thing,” he says, reaching down to pluck the strap of my suit.

Snap!

“And you just told me I was shoving my tits in other guys’ faces.” Gulping, I try to ignore the way my blood is heating. The itch in my fingertips. The rush of warmth between my legs. “Do you really think a more revealing suit is going to help matters?”

He tilts his head, taking me in. “I think I gave you an order and you keep disobeying it.”

“I have to wear this one,” I say, voice feeling trapped in my throat. “For now.”

“Why?” He’s looking at me with dark, callous eyes. Probably expecting me to lie.

“You know why.”

His eyes grow impossibly darker, trailing over my breasts, down to my hips. “You don’t want some pitiful little Freshman dick, anyway. We both know what you really want.”

My breath hitches, because the truth is, Heston is right. The sex had been reckless and shameful, but the way I felt during and after? The way I’ve been daydreaming about it, touching myself to the memory, positively aching for more?

No.

“I can’t,” I say, looking away from his broad chest. I need to remember the other things. The way I haven’t been able to look at myself in the mirror. The churn of my stomach every time I see the bruises. The paralyzing panic that someone might find out.

“It’s just a little bargain, Haynes.” His voice is innocent, but his eyes are wicked. “You can clean up the closet and locker rooms, or…you can prove your respect to me another way.”

Harder, I repeat, “I can’t.”

He scoffs, turning away. “Have it your way then.”

My eyes slam shut, hands clenching into tight fists. So low that I almost hope he doesn’t hear me, I