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The fact of the matter was, Bianaca hated me. She was sexually attracted to me, sure, but her feelings did not extend further than that.

I didn’t know why that bothered me as much as it did. I didn’t want or need a girl in my life. There was a reason people called me an ass, and it wasn’t just because I had a nice one. Hell, I couldn’t even remember my last “girlfriend’s” name.

Honestly, I couldn’t remember anything besides how soft B felt in my arms, as if she was made specifically for me.

Fucking cheesy ass shit if you asked me.

“Did she believe you?” Aiden asked, once more pulling me from my reverie. From the slightest tilt of his head and the quirk of his brow, I realized he had probably asked this question more than once. My face wanted to burn in shame, but I schooled my features carefully. Aiden was a shark. The second he smelled blood, he would pounce.

“No,” I answered.

He snorted. “As eloquent as always, my friend.”

“Whatever.”

Shaking my head, I stood, stretching my arms over my head.

“She has you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?” Aiden’s voice dripped with condemnation. Amusement. It was an odd combination that he was able to pull off perfectly.

“I’m not the one fucking other girls while screaming her name,” I snapped. If I expected a reaction out of Aiden, I was sorely mistaken. He merely grinned, dark eyes shining.

“You wouldn’t need to fuck other girls, would you?” He sat up, that perpetually amused smirk still in place. When I didn’t answer, he continued, “You know exactly what she feels like, don’t you?”

Damn him. Damn his perceptiveness.

I kept my face stoic. Impassive.

As always, he could see right through me.

“How did she feel?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Jumping to my feet, I made an immediate beeline toward the door.

“Did you taste her?” he continued his crude line of questioning.

“Shut the fuck up, Aiden.”

I knew he was trying to get a reaction out of me, setting bait like I was a damn fish he could catch, and damn, if I didn’t play along. He had that way about him—a way of inherently annoying the shit out of me while simultaneously making me want to spill each and every one of my secrets.

“Don’t let feelings get in the way of our plan,” he called to my retreating back. I froze, muscles tensing.

“Your plan,” I countered, not bothering to turn around. “Not our plan.”

He made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.

“Just stay focused. Think with your head, not your dick. And especially not your fuckingheart.” He said the last word as if it was a vulgar curse.

I didn’t have to worry about that, though. I didn’t have a heart. Not after everything I had been through.

Saluting Aiden with my middle finger, I made my way down the hall and to my own room.

* * *

“Where is he?”

The punch landed squarely on my cheek, wrenching my head to the side. Blood gurgled in my mouth, but I defiantly spat it out.

“Fuck off,” I hissed. Talking was painful. Moving was even more painful. My body felt as if it was weighed down by lead weights. Each of my muscles ached. I was barely capable of keeping my eyes opened.