Page 100 of Twisted Play

“Isn’t it?” Tristan asked, tilting my face up to look into his eyes, dark and hooded, as he stared down at me.

“You’re blackmailing me for sex,” I said, the words barely audible. One of the students watching us raised an eyebrow, and I pressed closer to Tristan, burying my face in his chest.

His hands crept up my back, rubbing in warm circles, soothing me. “Best sex I ever had,” he murmured.

I snorted. “Everyone’s looking at us,” I said softly.

“Looking at you,” he said. “Wondering who that gorgeous girl is who’s caught my eye, and Cole’s. Envious of me, getting to hold you in my arms.”

“Getting snot all over your shirt?”

“Proud I’m the man you let comfort you,” he answered, not letting my snark dissuade him from tucking my head under his chin and holding me tight, as if he could stop me from shattering in the dining hall by pure force of will. Maybe he could. The urge to sob my heart out was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness.

“We planned to fuck you after lunch,” he continued, his voice gentle, but the words made me flinch. “Want to get an ice cream instead?”

I snorted, amusement finally overcoming my panic. “Like I’m a five-year-old?”

“Like you’re a fucking gorgeous woman I want to make smile,” he said, his brow furrowed. “You’re always so fucking sad, Eva, and I hate it.”

He ran one hand up my back, holding me at the waist and neck, refusing to allow any space between our bodies. Tristan’s golden eyes shone with genuineness, and when he bent his head to brush his lips against mine, I didn’t move away.

Electricity crackled between us, but he didn’t deepen the kiss. No, he just moved his lips sweetly over mine. When he drew away, I wasn’t quite ready, and the smile in his eyes told me he knew it. For a moment, another moment, just like so many before it, I allowed myself to imagine a world where this was real, where they actually cared, and where I wasn’t slowly selling pieces of my soul just to survive.

“Ready to face the world again?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked him ruefully.

He looked over my shoulder then nudged me to do the same. Cole stood a few feet away, his fists clenched, his expression unreadable. Tristan nodded, and Cole strode forward. He sandwiched me between the two men and set his hands on my waist, one covering Tristan’s, trapping me between them. I had nowhere to run, no way to escape. I gave in to the fantasy, pretending they sheltered me from the storm rather than contributed to it.

“You’ve got good reasons to be sad, pretty girl,” Tristan said. “But let us carry some of that weight for a little while, okay?”

I’d never admit how reassuring it was to stand between them, how much I liked the feeling of them shielding me from the world. Tomorrow I’d hate myself for it, but today? I could pretend.

“Ice cream after lunch,” Tristan told him.

Cole snorted with amusement. “Yeah, okay, sparrow. Ice cream andthenfucking.”

And somehow, that didn’t sound so bad.

37

ALEKSANDR

I slammedon the brakes at the sight of a familiar head of red hair. Why the fuck was Eva Jackson catching a bus home at nine o’clock at night? In a fucking skirt? And a top that did nothing to hide the luscious curves that tormented me?

Where the fuck were Tristan and Cole? They were attached to her at the fucking hip when they wanted her, but when she needed them, they were nowhere to be found?

I leaned over to pop open my door, only to find her looking wide-eyed at my vehicle, like I’d scared her half to death.

Good.

I wanted her miserable and scared instead of sweet and soft and needy like she’d been in my office, naked and on her knees, a week before.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” I growled.

Eva peered into the vehicle, and her eyes widened when she realized it was me. “Coach?” She quickly corrected herself. “Sir?”

“I asked you a fucking question.”