Page 15 of Price of Victory (The Saints of Westmont U #5)
ELEVEN
RHETT
Two days had passed since that conversation in my dorm room, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or about him. The sharp edges of his usual performance had been sanded away, revealing someone I actually wanted to know better.
It was driving me fucking insane.
I’d caught myself listening for his voice in crowded hallways, feeling my pulse quicken every time I thought I saw him across campus.
My heart kept tugging in every direction whenever he crossed my mind, which was constantly.
The careful walls I’d built around my attraction to him were crumbling brick by brick, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop the demolition anymore.
The worst part was how much sense it all made now.
The years of antagonism, the way he got under my skin like no one else could, the electric tension that sparked between us every time we shared the same air.
I’d been telling myself it was hatred, but sitting in the quiet of my dorm room with nothing but my own thoughts for company, I had to admit the truth that was eating me alive.
I wanted him. I’d probably always wanted him. And that want was becoming a living thing inside me, demanding attention I couldn’t ignore.
Thursday evening found me alone again. Lennox slept at Oliver’s place as had become his routine.
The room felt bigger with just me in it, quieter, like it was holding its breath.
Or maybe I was. I’d finished my homework hours ago, tried reading, tried watching something on my laptop, but nothing could distract me from the restless energy thrumming under my skin like a live wire.
It had been too long since I’d done anything about the sexual frustration that had been building for weeks.
Months, really. The last time I’d been with someone was before the semester started, with Andrew, who I’d met at a summer party, who’d been nice enough but utterly forgettable.
Since then, between hockey and classes and the constant distraction of Aiden fucking Whitmore, I’d been existing in a state of perpetual want with no outlet.
Tonight felt different, though. Private.
Safe. Dangerous. Lennox wouldn’t be back until morning, and the dorm was quiet around me.
I’d already showered, already taken care of the practical stuff, and now I was sitting on my bed in just my shorts and a T-shirt, trying to work up the motivation to do something about the ache that had been building all day.
This was supposed to be me time. The toy in the drawer hadn’t seen much use.
The problem was that every time I closed my eyes and tried to focus, the same face kept appearing behind my eyelids.
Sharp eyes that saw too much, dark hair that looked like it was made for fingers to tangle in, that infuriating smirk that made me want to either punch him or kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Usually both.
I wasn’t ready to trudge out to the bars in the city, and I wasn’t interested in the hassle of finding someone random for a hookup that would probably leave me feeling emptier than before. And it wasn’t like the perfect guy was just going to materialize out of thin air and solve all my problems.
I was reaching for the drawer of my nightstand when someone knocked on my door.
My entire body went rigid, hand frozen halfway to the handle. Was it Pedro Pascal? Please, I thought desperately, let it be Pedro Pascal. Let it be literally anyone other than…
“Rhett? You in there?”
Aiden’s voice through the door made my stomach drop and my pulse spike simultaneously. Of course. Of-fucking-course the universe had this kind of timing.
I scrambled off the bed, running a hand through my face and trying to make myself look like I hadn’t been about thirty seconds away from taking care of business.
When I opened the door, Aiden was standing there with several bags from what looked like an expensive grocery store, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a sweater that probably cost more than most people’s textbooks.
“Oh,” I said, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
He raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, hello to you, too, sugar cube. I figured, since you live in abject poverty, I couldn’t just eat your stuff without making sure you don’t starve to death.”
“How sweet,” I said sarcastically, but I could feel my heart starting to race just from his proximity. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too warm.
He held out the bags, and when I reached to take them, our fingers brushed for just a moment. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, immediate and devastating, and I jerked back so fast I nearly dropped everything.
Fuck. I cursed myself for reacting so obviously, for letting him see how much his touch affected me. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid, this loss of control that happened every time he was near me.
“You want to come in?” I asked, stepping back from the door before I could think better of it.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He followed me into the room, and immediately, the space felt smaller, charged with his presence like the air before a storm. I set the bags on my desk and started unpacking them, trying to give my hands something to do while I got my pulse under control.
“Jesus, Aiden, how much food did you buy?” The bags contained what looked like half a grocery store: actual snacks instead of my usual processed junk, fruit that actually looked fresh, some kind of fancy crackers, chocolate that probably cost more per ounce than gold.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said, settling onto Lennox’s bed across from mine with easy confidence. “And I figured if I was going to intrude on your evening, I should at least bring proper provisions.”
“Intrude?” I glanced at him, noting the way the lamplight caught the sharp angles of his face, the way his sweater stretched across his shoulders. “What makes you think you’re intruding?”
“Well, you looked like I’d murdered your favorite book boyfriend when you opened the door. Either I interrupted something important, or you were really hoping I was someone else.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I turned back to the food to hide my expression. He wasn’t wrong on either count, but there was no way in hell I was admitting that.
“I was just surprised to see you. We don’t exactly have a habit of dropping by each other’s rooms.”
“Maybe we should start.”
There was something in his voice that made me look at him again, something softer than his usual cocky confidence but somehow more intense. He was watching me with a focus that made my skin prickle, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had been bothering him.
“What’s all this really about?” I asked, gesturing at the food. “The snacks, the random visit. What do you want, Aiden?”
“Can’t a guy bring snacks to a friend without having an ulterior motive?”
“We’re not friends.”
“Aren’t we? After the other night?”
The question hung in the air between us like a challenge, and I found myself remembering the easy conversation we’d had, the way the usual hostility had dissolved into something that felt almost like friendship. Almost like something more dangerous.
“I don’t know what we are,” I said honestly.
“Neither do I. But I know I’ve been thinking about you.” He was being unusually direct, none of his typical verbal sparring or calculated innuendo. “About that conversation we had.”
“What about it?”
“It was good. Really good. I haven’t talked to someone like that in…well, in a long time. Maybe ever.” His voice dropped lower. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About how you looked sitting on this bed, actually talking to me instead of trying to tear my head off.”
The admission made something flutter dangerously in my chest. “It was just talking.”
“Was it?” He leaned forward slightly, and the space between us felt charged. “Because I keep remembering other things. The way you kept looking at my mouth when I was talking. The way you reacted when I got close to you.”
My throat went dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
I opened one of the packages he’d brought, some kind of imported crackers that probably cost twenty dollars, and offered him the box.
When he took it, our fingers brushed again, and this time, I didn’t pull away immediately.
The contact lasted maybe a second longer than necessary, but it was enough to send heat shooting through my entire nervous system.
“These are really good,” I said, trying to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at me.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I figured someone who grew up with a silver spoon would have terrible taste in normal food.”
“Ouch.” He shifted closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne. “I’ll have you know I have excellent taste in everything.”
The way he said it, with just enough emphasis on “everything,” made it clear he wasn’t just talking about food. I settled onto my bed across from him, close enough that our knees almost touched, and tried to ignore the way my body was responding to his proximity.
“So what have you been doing with yourself since our midnight snack session?” he asked.
“The usual. Classes, practice, homework. You know, normal college student stuff.”
“Thrilling. And here I thought you’d be out painting the town red, living it up with your modest lifestyle.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Some of us don’t have the energy for constant excitement.”
“Maybe you just haven’t found the right kind of excitement.” His eyes were dark, focused on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
There was definitely innuendo in that, and the way he was looking at me made it clear he wasn’t talking about nightlife. I felt my face heating up again, that familiar flush that seemed to happen every time he turned his attention on me like this.
“You’re doing it again,” I said.
“Doing what?”