Page 49 of Almost Ravaged

My attention drifts lower, and when I take in the fitted corset-style top that molds to her chest as if it’s been painted on, I silently curse.

It’s tight.

Just like this stairwell.

Just like my throat.

Just like my pants, as painful pressure builds behind the constricting fabric of my—

“Keep it moving!” a man yells from the bottom of the stairs.

With that, the spell is broken.

“See you both in class,” I grit out, pushing Noah’s shoulder, eager to put distance between myself and this source of temptation.

I block out my surroundings, solely focused on exiting the building, fixating on the faded Holt lightning bolt on the back of my best friend’s faded orange ball cap.

As we step out onto the brick-paved road, fresh air slams into me, offering a much-needed reset.

Students mill about nearby, smoking and laughing as they gallivant from one bar to the next.

Just like Sawyer and her lackeys were doing tonight.

Noah slaps me on the back, drawing my attention back to the moment.

He’s grinning like a fool when I finally get my wits about me and meet his gaze.

“That was your new GA, I take it?”

“Shut up.” Without waiting for him, I shove at my shirt sleeves and stalk toward the public lot where he parked his truck.

Chapter nineteen

Tytus

What is with the multi-level bars and the narrow-ass stairwells in this town?

A group of girls slinks past me to get to the door, and when a random heel digs into the top of my foot, I let out a grunt.

Fuckin’ A.

At least I’m wearing boots. And I’ve had a few drinks. That helps dull the pain.

The first bar we hit was all on one level, but it was gross. The floor was covered in discarded peanut shells and the curved wooden booths weren’t exactly built with hockey players in mind.

The second bar had at least three levels. Maybe four. I’ll never know for sure, because I’m never going back there. The first two floors were run-of-the-mill, with booths and tables and a long bar on one end. The third floor, on the other hand, could only be described asunique. On one wall, anime played on a large screen. The group gathered was eclectic, to say the least. Many were dressed in ren faire attire and danced without music on a mock dance floor in the middle of the space.

When a petite blonde threw a drink on a guy and got us all wet in the process, we downed our beers, closed out, and changed locations again.

Sawyer removed her cardigan once we made it outside, claiming one sleeve was soaked.

Now, as I trail behind her, I’m barely keeping it together. It takes all my fortitude to keep from staring at the freckles on her arms or the pale skin of her upper back and neck.

Our third stop, Mae’s, is supposedly iconic, though it looks like the other bars we’ve been to so far.

After they check our IDs, Atty leads us inside. I bring up the rear, keeping Sawyer sandwiched between us.

As we head to the stairs, I’m certain I won’t survive the climb. Not now that she’s removed her sweater and I know that taunting creamy band of skin between her jeans and her shirt will be at eye-level. But here we fucking go again.