Page 46 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

EVA

“B-plus?” Violetta peered at my bio-chem exam. “That’s unusual.”

Fuck yes, it was unusual, but I was burning the candle at both ends with no end in sight. “It’s just one exam,” I said, as much to remind myself as her. “Not enough to pull down my average.” Yet. I had to get my shit together, lest I crack under the pressure.

Violetta looked at hers—an A. Of course it was an A.

Violetta was going to change the world. Me?

I just wanted to survive another day without Carter finding out I was fucking his son, without Alek discovering why I was sleeping with his star players, without Cole and Tristan learning about Alek.

The weight of my secrets pressed against my chest until I could hardly breathe.

“Still, unusual. You okay?”

I pulled my backpack from beside my seat and loaded my laptop and notebook into it.

What could I tell her? That I was exhausted because I had to find several hours a week for two feral hockey players to degrade me and fuck me, in addition to secretly reporting everything the team did to one of those hockey players’ fathers?

And let’s not forget what I did in Alek’s office two days ago.

The taste of oranges still haunted me, sweet and bitter at the same time, the way his unexpected care followed his cruelty.

“I’ll be fine,” I lied.

“Lunch plans?”

“Just my PB&J,” I said, grateful I didn’t have to be embarrassed about my poverty with Violetta. She’d been there too. Like me, she still was. “Join me in the dining hall?”

With a sharp nod, Violetta led the way out of the lecture hall, only to stop abruptly when she saw my—I didn’t know what to call Tristan and Cole, actually.

Boyfriends? No.

Lovers? Be still my heart.

Owners? Fuck that.

“Sparrow,” Cole purred, his eyes dragging up and down my body, catching on the hemline of my shorts, up my hips and my waist, through my torso, and then snagging again on the way my t-shirt hugged my breasts.

His eyes darkened, and he licked his lips, utterly unaware of how obscene it was.

Or maybe he knew exactly how it made my body light up with equal parts desire and shame. “You look good.”

A group of women passed by, gorgeous, confident, and looking at us like they didn’t quite understand why Cole was paying me so much attention.

Suddenly, desperately, I needed to prove them wrong, needed to wrest back control. Cole fucking Carter was looking at me like he wanted to eat me for lunch. I straightened and eyed him with the same hungry look. Stress relief sounded fucking great right now.

He leaned against the wall, one foot against it with his knee bent, his arms crossed over his chest, a cruel smile painted over his features.

Tristan smiled, his entire face lighting up like he was happy to see me, like it had before this dark deal began.

My chest ached at the memory of his warmth, now tainted by blackmail.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cole continued.

“Lunch,” I said, looking him up and down with the same boldness he looked at me with, maintaining my facade of confidence, even as anxiety clawed at my insides.

His lips tilted up and, fuck, butterflies went wild in my stomach.

“Eat with us,” he said, shoving off the wall.

Violetta’s gaze ping-ponged between the three of us, but she didn’t leave my side. Instead, she twined her fingers in mine.

“Good morning, boys,” she said. Everyone in the group chat knew we’d hooked up over the weekend, but they didn’t know I’d agreed to let these assholes do whatever they wanted to my body in exchange for keeping my secrets.

Cole’s gaze raked over her body, and I hated the tight feeling it left in my chest, my confidence plunging as quickly as it’d come.

“Nice to see you again, Violetta,” Tristan said, offering his hand to shake like the biggest, most adorable dork in the world.

Cole grunted then turned his gaze back to me, scorching me with its heat, and all of a sudden, that confidence was back.

Violetta hummed, ignoring the tension. “You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” she said.

Tristan lifted my tote bag off my shoulder, then wrapped his arm around my waist, stroking his fingers over my hip before dragging me against him. “I love those shorts,” he murmured into my hair. “Like I could slide my fingers right up them and see how wet your pussy is for me. ”

Shocked, I looked up at him, only for the pressure of his arm on my back to move me forward.

“Please don’t,” I breathed. “She doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what, kitten?” The bitterness in Tristan’s voice broke my heart.

He hadn’t asked for this, and Cole had dragged him in—and I wasn’t strong enough to say no, just like I wasn’t strong enough to say no to Alek or Carter.

My skin felt too tight, like my secrets might burst out of me at any moment.

“Stop it,” I breathed as his fingers tugged into my hip.

“Does she not know we’re fucking? That you looked at Cole like you were desperate for him to find an empty classroom and bend you over the professor’s desk?”

Oh. Oh. I’d hurt his feelings. “Both of you,” I whispered, turning my face into his chest so the words wouldn’t carry.

“What’s that?”

“I was desperate for both of you,” I repeated, heat rising to my cheeks, humiliated he was making me repeat it.

Tristan just hummed. “Too bad you’re not in charge here.”

“If that ain’t the fuckin’ truth,” I muttered to myself, pleased when it startled a delighted laugh out of him. For just a moment, I entertained the fantasy that we were a normal couple, held together by affection and not blackmail.

Behind me, Cole chatted with Vi, but I never forgot for a moment the way his gaze trained on my ass, eating me up with every step forward. I tamped down on the self-consciousness as my thighs rubbed together. He wanted me. They both wanted me. As I was.

I held on to that thought with both hands as Tristan opened the door to the student union, and we walked into the bustling food court. The scent of food hit me like a wave, and my traitorous stomach growled.

“I’ll find us a table,” I murmured, desperate for a moment to collect myself, to shore up my walls.

Cole hooked a finger into my belt loop and arrested my forward movement. The casual possession in the movement sent butterflies rioting in my stomach. “What’re you having for lunch?”

I lifted the cooler bag I used to carry my homemade lunch. “Sandwich,” I murmured, shame burning in my chest.

“She’s having peanut butter and jelly,” Violetta helpfully interjected, “and an apple.”

Cole’s jaw ticked. His hand tightened on my hip, and for a moment, I thought I saw genuine concern in his eyes. Impossible—I was stress relief, nothing more than a toy for him to work out his frustrations. “Tristan will find the fucking table. You’re with me, sparrow.”

He turned, never letting go of my shorts, forcing me to awkwardly shuffle until we walked side by side. He stopped in front of a “build your own bowl” type place I never ate at—I couldn’t afford $20 a bowl, not even on my biggest splurges.

He ordered three bowls—then looked over his shoulder where Violetta was sitting with Tristan.

“Does your friend have any allergies? Dietary restrictions?” he asked me.

“You don’t have to buy us lunch,” I said.

“That’s not what I asked,” he snapped.

“She doesn’t,” I snapped right back, more flustered than I should have been, and he added a fourth bowl to the order .

“Triple protein on the first two, no spinach on the last,” he said, “and four sparkling waters.”

My heart stopped at the total on the register. “Cole?—”

“Shut the fuck up, slut,” he snapped, moving so he caged me against the counter when I tried to step away. His torso pressed against mine, hot and solid and so fucking reassuring. He might hurt me, but nothing else would, not with his body between me and the world.

Cole shifted so he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He pushed his pelvis harder into me, trapping me firmly, and pulled out a black credit card to hand to the cashier.

We waited like that as the cook made four bowls. Cole played with my hair, his fingers brushing against my back, and I leaned back into him, eliciting a pleased hum. The tenderness made my heart ache—at least when he was cruel, I knew where I stood.

Another group of girls eyed us, and my jaw ticked.

Cole didn’t do relationships. Neither did Tristan.

And I hated the spotlight that shined on me when we were out together.

I knew our relationship didn’t make sense—the only reason we were together was because they were blackmailing me—and it burned to see the doubt reflect in the eyes of others. They were right. This wouldn’t last.

When I would have taken the food-laden tray, Cole nabbed it from me along with the bag of water bottles, leaving me to trail behind him as he bobbed and weaved through the throngs of hungry students. Every eye in the dining hall followed us, judging and wondering.

Tristan unloaded the food while Cole maneuvered me until I slid onto the bench beside him and across from Tristan.

Cole tugged me against him but thankfully allowed me to eat my own meal. “Thank you,” I said softly, hating how much I meant it.

Violetta just grinned. “I like your boyfriends,” she said.

Boyfriends. Dread swirled in my stomach when I thought about Alek, who’d barked at me at practice this morning but had tossed me an orange before I could dash off to the library to study.

Cole leaned his head on my shoulder. “Is that what we are, sparrow? Your boyfriends?”

I snorted and dug my fork into the bowl, humming with pleasure as flavor exploded on my tongue.

I could cook this, probably, if I could identify the secret sauce.

It’d be so much better than the quick meals I threw together each morning as I rushed around, exhausted and struggling to make ends meet.

Cole didn’t say another word, just lifted his head and devoured his meal with neat bites.