Page 8 of Give In

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Damien

Fucking torture.

I’d sworn I’d give in just once, but I was weak when it came to Eden.

It was pathetic how relieved I’d been that I hadn’t come in my pants when her hands had grazed my legs. Barely a touch to my calves, and my dick had jumped like she’d been going down on me.

In defense of my dick and me, it’d been her reaction that’d done it. Her soft intake of breath. Her mask slipping to reveal her startled expression. The way she’d yanked her hands back like she’d been burned.

It made me want to see how far I could push before she broke the rules and talked.

She finished her dance and dressed quicker than ever before. Rushing from the room, she left without giving me her tight smile over her shoulder.

I missed it.

I missed her.

I’m pathetic.

Chapter Three

Totally Under Control

Eden

He was back.

Again.

And I was annoyed.

Again.

All week at school, he’d said nothing. He’d given menothing. Then he’d sit at my club and watch me. He was always silent and indifferent, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

I’d wondered briefly if he was into me. If he’d been coming to see me because he wanted to.

Wanted me.

There’d been a part of me holding out hope he’d… I dunno. Admit he liked what he saw. I wasn’t expecting declarations of love, but maybe lust. A connection. Something beyond indifference and silence.

That hope had died earlier that day.

When we’d gotten our papers back, everyone else’s had in depth notes marking the pages. Not just the usual corrections, but differing theories or options to encourage them to think from a different point of view. My stomach had clenched as I’d scanned the surrounding papers. I’d worked so hard on mine and was certain I’d done well, and I’d been anxious to see what feedback he’d had for me.

Only when I’d looked down at my paper, there was barely anything. A few notations, a circled correction, and a ninety-five-percent.

It just showed he felt everyone else was worth the time, effort, and thought he put into making so many notes.

Not me, though.

Never me.

That was when I’d had to face the truth. His time at Sinners hadn’t been about an unspoken connection—some undeniable pull between us. My stupid crush was one-sided, and his visits were a power trip. A reminder that he knew my dirty little secret and could spill it to everyone. Easily. Anonymously.

He may not have been able to get me expelled, but he could force me to leave. Because if people found out what I did for a living, there was no way I could continue attending there.