Page 14 of The Tenth Circle

I think I turned out alright.

Playing it fast and loose with that one, Montgomery.

Yeah, well, at least I can save myself the embarrassment knowing he’s stillCrazymanand notLetterman.

I try to ignore the bout of disappointment, but it’s hard when my thoughts and my body are gravitating toward the second man in question.

Although, he seems pretty good at tuningmeout.

For the most part, that is, because I did catch him raising an eyebrow at me when I cursed myself for breaking the tip off one of my favorite drawing pencils.

It was a raised brow, nothing more, nothing less.

Definitely not the kind that screams “I licked a girl and I liked it.”

Nevertheless, I’ve used up the rest of the class feeling out the room: potential friends, potential threats—a.k.a. redheads—and potential liabilities.

Even Preston in all his lingering prepubescence.

I took notes on everyone.

Except the one I need.

Who’s standing and stretching, with the half-tucked Oxford under his Letterman allowing me a glimpse of narrow hips and V dipping beneath the waistband of black khakis.

Like I said. Chiseled. Fucking. Marble.

I shouldn’t be at all surprised when he clears his throat—given those beautiful blues don’t just work but can easily carry someone’s life and death inside them too.

Identical to what I found inhis.

I have no time to deliberate because not only does Adonislook, Adonisspeaks.

“See somethin’ you like?” He grins, and even though the voices are kind of different, recalling the same opener from my Crazyman causes the room to spin once more.

And just like with him, I ignore intuition until it kicks me right in the vagina. “Ew, no. Who—” I catchmyprevious opener slipping past the tip of my tongue and clamp my mouth shut just in time to avoid implication.

Hello bus. Meet Hendrix the asshole.

Letterman studies me carefully, but my reaction calls for it.

I give the cocky dipshit my best fake scowl.

“Get over yourself. Nobody wants to look at you.”

There’s that damn eyebrow again.

“Well, now I know you’re lying.”

With some extra flare, I gasp, “Oh, really? How?”

Letterman leans in…too far away to touch but close enough to sense crisp mandarin in his cologne. Then, basking in the impending K.O., he whispers, “’Cause everyone wants to look at me.”

With that he straightens, winks, and takes off like the wind, leaving me in the dust to swallow defeat.

And make no mistake…hediddefeat me.

My only win is that the scent of the god doesn’t match the scent of the psycho.