Page 12 of Cruel When He Smiles

“Who said I was joking?”

Fuck this guy.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Liam chuckles, closing the distance between us, and I hate that I don’t step back. “And yet, you keep coming back for more.”

I grit my teeth, forcing my body to stay still, forcing myself not to react, not to give him anything. “I don’t have a choice, dumbass. We’re literally forced into these sessions together.”

“Sure,” he murmurs, still watching me too closely with a gaze that’s peeling me apart, layer by layer. “That’s the only reason, right?”

His voice is softer now, almost gentle, and it throws me off balance. There’s no mockery in it, no overt teasing, just a quiet, careful curiosity that I don’t trust. “You love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

He tilts his head, considering. “Not as much as I love watching you react to me.”

My pulse spikes, and I try to school my expression, but it’s too late—he sees it. The tiny shift in my breathing, how my hands twitch before I shove them in my pockets. His smile doesn’t widen, doesn’t turn smug, but there’s a change in them.

I roll my shoulders again, trying to shake the feeling. “You get off on this, don’t you?” I ask, keeping my tone flat and unaffected. “Fucking with people? Making them question themselves?”

Liam’s eyes spark with delight. “No.”

“Liar.”

His lips curve, and then—ever so slowly—he reaches out and touches my cheek. Just the briefest brush of fingers, warm against my skin, light enough that I could pull away… but I can’t.

His voice drops to a more intimate tone. “If I was fucking with you, Nate, you’d already be broken and on your knees for me.”

I slap his hand away and take a step back, my breaths coming too fast. “Don’t touch me,” I say, but it doesn’t come out as steady as I want it to.

Liam just watches me, hands nonchalantly sliding into his pockets like he didn’t just get under my skin and shift the ground beneath me without even trying. His voice lowers a little more. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

My stomach drops, and I know he means Sage.

I school my expression, forcing every muscle in my face to lock down. “Tell him what?”

Liam smiles slowly. “That I made you hard with one word.”

My breath catches and I hate that he’s close to right. I did get hard, and I still fucking hate myself for it.

“I’ve seen that look before,” he continues in a whisper. “The way your face went pale. How your thighs tightened. You felt dirty for liking it, didn’t you?”

I don’t say anything, because if I open my mouth, I’ll either scream or choke.

“But youdidlike it,” he continues. “Didn’t you, Pup?”

My whole body trembles, and I spin on my heel to walk off, feeling his gaze burning into my back.

I need to get the fuck away from him.

Nate

Myskinstillfeelstoo hot, too tight, my pulse hammering at my throat as I shove through the main doors of the building and step into the cool air. I should feel better now that I’m outside, now that I’m away from him, but I don’t. The tension is still there, coiled and waiting, as if I’m bracing for an impact that hasn’t come yet.

I just need to get back to the frat. Get inside, get a drink, and let Sage distract me with whatever dumb shit he’s gotten himself into today. Something normal. Something that makes sense.

I reach into my pocket for my phone, already planning to text Sage and tell him to get the tequila ready, when my screen lights up with a call from a number I’ve memorized and absolutely hate.

My fingers go numb. My pulse slows, then slams back into my ribs, and my entire body locks up so fast it makes me dizzy.