Page 57

“She’s got a severe inferiority complex,” Rook said flatly.

“Didn’t take me long to figure it out. She wants money, status, the whole package.

That ‘woe is me’ act? It’s part of it. Her stepdad’s footing the bill to keep her at Crowsfell, and whatever flavor of the week she’s screwing usually coughs up enough cash to keep her afloat.

Befriending Sanj? That was strategic. Calculated. ”

I sat with that for a minute. I knew my fair share of ambitious women, but they were better at this than Layla was. Usually, they locked onto one guy if that’s the route they chose. Four or five in seven days was a bit much. And sloppy. She didn’t necessarily need to do any of this.

It wasn’t as if her place at Crowsfell was in jeopardy, and they weren’t easy to come by, so that was telling.

“To be quite fucking honest, I don’t understand her motive.”

She was attending a university that cost more than some people’s houses, had a coveted spot on the varsity cheer team, and still felt sorry for herself because she wasn’t as rich as someone else?

Not even the scholarship kids gave that much of a fuck.

Arianna was one of them. She’d been awarded multiple.

It wasn’t until recently that her parents could afford Crowsfell full tuition cost out of pocket, and she chose to keep to the scholarship route.

She was quiet, smart, and impossible not to like.

No one in our circle ever made her feel less than.

She came as she was, and we loved her for it.

Xander’s family was new money, too. Not old blood.

His dad built everything from the ground up, and his mom took a salary cut to stay home and raise him the right way.

Most people didn’t consider half of this shit from the outside looking in.

They saw the cars, the clothes, and were too focused on our bank accounts, how we played on the field, and who we were fucking.

“You know she’s infatuated with you and your brother, right?” Xander questioned.

“That’s something we try to actively ignore,” Cade replied.

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, she was banking on Sanj being with D-W. If they stayed together long enough, she’d finally have a clear shot to make a move.”

“She knows we don’t like her,” Rook remarked.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Where did she come from to begin with? I know we didn’t go to high school with her.”

“She only attended a few weeks into our freshman year. She was pulled out and homeschooled after all that shit happened with her mom. You know the rest,” Xander explained.

“She could’ve sought Sanj out on purpose from that small window,” Rook contemplated.

“If she’s been keeping tabs on our girls for that long…” Nick blew out a breath, tapping the countertop with his fingers. “That’s some Single White Female type shit.”

“She wanted an in. Sanj was the easiest target of the four,” I said, voice quiet.

It had always been obvious. She didn’t just want to be around them; she wanted to be them.

She was playing the long game like everyone else, through proximity disguised as friendship.

From where I was sitting, Layla Vargas had officially moved from liability to problem.

It was nearly 2 a.m. by the time I made it upstairs.

After watching Layla’s personal motion picture, we bullshitted a little more on what to do, talked weekend plans, and locked in a day next week to head back to the party site and finalize a few things.

The caterer wanted to walk through the space too, get a feel for the layout.

It was a simple, mundane conversation to keep things lax while we each processed what we’d just learned.

The moment I was alone again, I went straight into my bathroom, shutting the door behind me with a quiet finality. My shirt came off in the same motion.

I turned the shower knob all the way hot.

Steam rolled out instantly, a wall of heat I welcomed.

I undressed in silence, muscles pulled tight across my frame, tension humming in every inch of me.

I unscrewed the rings from my piercings one by one, careful with the pressure.

The metal was cool in my palm, catching the light before I dropped each engraved barbell into the sterile dish by the sink.

It was a sanitary thing I couldn’t help but do.

I stepped into the shower, and the water hit me like fire, scalding hot.

I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and slowly exhaled, letting the day bleed out and wash down the drain.

As I stood there, the memory of her slipped back in.

The way her breath hitched and how she had melted when I placed myself on top of her.

That body—fuck. Toned and curved in all the right places.

Those thighs, the kind that’d make a man lose his religion.

She was perfect. Strong but soft in places that made my hands ache to leave marks .

I needed her scent clinging to my sheets and all over me.

I’d seen her body in bikinis and a few times in nothing but a T-shirt and boy shorts.

It was nothing like seeing her tonight.

My head pressed against the cold, unforgiving slate of the shower wall, the water scalding my skin like liquid fire.

My hand was already wrapped around my cock, my fingers tightening, my palm slick with pre-cum as I stroked myself with a desperation that bordered on madness. The steam curled around me, thick and suffocating, as I let my imagination run wild.

I pictured her.

Stripping her bare, peeling her clothes off like I was unwrapping the most precious gift.

Her skin would be soft, so fucking soft, like silk dipped in honey.

I’d spread her out across my bed, her body trembling with anticipation.

I’d worship every inch of her, every curve, every fucking dip and swell that she didn’t even realize drove me to the brink of insanity.

I wanted to bite her. Suck her. Lick her.

Claim her. Leave marks on her skin that she’d stare at in the mirror the next morning, her thighs still shaking from how hard I’d made her come. Again. And again. And fucking again.

My hand moved faster, rougher, my grip tightening as I imagined her lips—those full, perfect lips—wrapped around my dick.

Her eyes would lock onto mine with that perfect mix of shyness and defiance that made me want to ruin her all over again.

Her cheeks would flush, her long, silky hair cascading down like a dark waterfall, framing her beautiful face as she let me shatter her composure, piece by fucking piece.

I could almost hear it, the sound she’d make when I pushed her over the edge.

A symphony of breathless gasps and whispered pleas, her voice breaking as she begged me for more.

She’d moan my name, an invocation, a fucking prayer, as I split her open and showed her what it truly meant to belong to me.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my voice catching as the release tore through me, leaving white streaks across the tile before the water could rinse it all away.

It wasn’t enough.

I wanted more. I wanted her. I wanted to feel her tight pussy clenching around me as I fucked her raw, her nails digging into my back as she screamed my name.

I wanted to taste her on my tongue, her juices dripping down my chin as I devoured her like a starving man.

I wanted to pin her down, her wrists trapped above her head, as I pounded into her with a ferocity that left her breathless and begging for mercy.

The water was still scalding my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coursing through my veins.

My cock was already hardening again, throbbing with a need that only she could satisfy.

I leaned back against the wall, heart pounding in my chest. This wasn’t just a fantasy.

It was a promise. When I finally had her beneath me, I wouldn’t stop until she was screaming my name so loudly the neighbors called the cops.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply for a few minutes.

The only outlets I had outside of this were football, the gym, and a handful of violent urges I couldn’t always indulge.

I grabbed the cedar and sandalwood body wash—her favorite—and lathered slowly, dragging it across my skin like it might wash away everything still clinging to me.

Then I rinsed off and turned the water off.

I stepped out into a fog of steam, reaching for my towel.

I wiped a streak across the glass and stared at my reflection.

I looked more like myself again, for now.

I brushed my teeth slowly and forced my thoughts to stay in the room, not drifting back to her. I dropped the brush into its holder after I clamped the mint cap on, then I reached for the dish by the sink. I slid the first barbell back where it belonged.

Then the second.

Each piercing, every scar, every drop of ink—I made a vow with all of them.

I couldn’t forget marked moments, even when I wanted to.

I still had one more to go for each. A little more ink wouldn’t hurt, especially if it was for her.

I had a few tattoos. Some meant more than others, but none were random.

I hadn’t turned myself into a doodle board.

The symbol behind my ear was for family and legacy.

The Latin on my ribs was for the oath I took.

Inked close to the center of my chest—SFV.

All three letters of her name.

It was etched into an infinity symbol, with the date of the promise we made when we were kids. Just below that hung my half of the heart necklace, strung on a blackened chain I never took off. I kept it tucked under my jersey when out on the field, considering the pendant a good luck charm.

I pumped some lotion into my palm and worked it into my arms, chest, and shoulders. When I finished, I let the towel fall to the floor and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool and clean, smelling like detergent and me. No other body had touched them, but mine.

I grabbed my cell and tapped out a quick text.

Goodnight, Sass.

I set the phone face down on the nightstand, exhaled slowly, and let myself sink deeper into the mattress.