Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

“Christ, Voss. You really don’t know anything about me.” I can get pussy anywhere, anytime. All these hot sparks just looking at this girl sends up my spine? Only one person can give me that. “Not yet, but you can.”

Sugar eyes for me for a minute, her hand squeezing the strap of her messenger bag. She doesn’t look particularly accepting of any of this, so I brace myself for a blow—physical or otherwise. Mostly I expect her to walk away. Maybe run. She’ll probably tell me to fuck off and stop harassing her, once again.

It’s okay.

I’ve got stamina for days.

But for the second time, I’m not prepared when she pushes up on her toes and brushes her hot lips across mine. It doesn’t take me long to seize it, to lean hard into her kiss, sending her stumbling back. She lands against the metal door but doesn’t flinch away. If anything, she just bounces off it, right back into me.

I place my hands beside her head, palms flat against the door, knowing that if I want this to continue, I’ve got to keep them to myself. I tower over her, kissing her back with greedy, wet, sucking kisses. Fuck, she tastes just as good as I remember, tongue licking forcefully against mine. My heart beats wildly, banging hard against my chest. All I want in this moment is to feel the rest of her, but I know better. Jesus Christ, I know better.

Across campus, the bell in the tower chimes, a warning that our next class starts in five minutes. As hard as it is, this time I’m the one to pull away first, stepping back and giving her space. Her mouth is shiny and red, her chest heaving.

Being around this girl is a fight against my instincts—against all my impulses—and the best thing for me to do is walk away before I give into every one of them.

“How’s the jaw?” Ben asks when I take a seat between him and Caroline in the Devil’s Lair.

“Shut up,” I reply, slinking down in my seat. “Don’t pretend a chick or a dick hasn’t wanted to slap that smug expression off your face before.”

“Maybe, but not after I kissed them.”

I scowl and ignore him, waiting for the meeting to start. The Devils mingle around like we’re waiting for a pep-club meeting to begin or something. Emory glances at the time impatiently, ready to start. He shoots Carlton a dark look when he strolls in late. Like everyone else, I’d gotten the black envelope in my locker this morning with a time written on a small card. After the rites last fall, we don’t meet as often. We still hang, of course. Hell, we’re probably closer to each other than most of us are to our own families. But it’s been a while since we’d received an official notice.

Tyson bursts though the door next. His hair is still damp, and he carries the strong scent of chlorine. “Sorry,” he says, grabbing the seat next to Elana. “Practice ran late.”

He’d been recruited last year from Northridge for the diving team. It’s probably the first time a non-legacy has ever been initiated into The Devils, but we’re living in a new world order. I mean, hell, the Playthings are all equal members as well.

“No worries,” Emory says, eyes sweeping over to Carlton. “At least you have an excuse.”

“Dude.” Carlton shakes his head. “I told you I had some business to attend to.”

“Yeah well, I’m not into your business. Especially when it holds the rest of us up.” Everyone here is perfectly aware that Carlton is Preston’s resident drug dealer. Everyone also knows that Vandy spent two weeks in rehab dealing with her painkiller addiction. “You wanted to be a Devil. That obligation comes first.”

“Jesus Christ, Em—”

“Stop!” Vandy says, shooting them both glares. “If you guys want to fight about this, do it on your time. Stop wasting ours.”

Reyn’s hand hangs easily over Vandy’s shoulders, his fingers grazing the cuff of her sleeve, and I roll my eyes. I guess at some point they were hiding their relationship, but I can’t imagine them being anything other than joined at the hip. It’s not that I don’t approve. Reyn takes good care of her and she’s totally obsessed with him. They make a solid couple. It’s just that after what happened with Sugar today, seeing all the handsy bullshit is grating on my nerves a bit.

“Can we get st

arted?” I bite, my arms crossed over my chest. “I’ve got shit to do.”

Emory narrows his eyes at me, but I just stare back, ready to be done with this. He sighs. I mean, what did he expect? He wanted to be the leader of a bunch of entitled assholes.

“The homecoming prank was awesome. We carried it off without a hitch. But now it looks like one-off. There are so many rumors and speculations about who did it, and as I’m sure many of you know, there are people trying to take credit.”

Afton snorts. “I heard some bitch in fifth period claim it was this group of guys on the wrestling team.”

“Same.” Ben adds, “There are a few kids trying to act like they know who did it or were directly involved. Obviously, we can’t say anything, right?”

“Right,” Reyn says in a hard tone. He’s on probation, and if word gets back that he had anything to do with the prank—which involved breaking and entering, tampering with security and video equipment and vandalism—he’d be massively fucked. He looks up at his best friend, Emory. “What do you want to do?”

Emory gives his best evil grin. “I think another prank is in order. Basketball season is in full-swing. The men’s varsity team is doing well, right? They’ll probably go to the playoffs. I’m thinking one of those games is where we should focus our attack.”

“Elana, Aubrey, and I will be there,” Afton says. “Cheer and dance squads. So we already have an in.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” He nods at Ben. “You’re in the band. They go to all the games, right?”