Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

“Things are kind of crazy right now, Syd. I’m still healing from that concussion, and I’ve got a lot of work to do down at the garage, along with school and everything.”

“I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me, Bass.”

Like the fucking plague. I swallow back my irritation. “Maybe I’ll see you there tonight.”

Her eyes light up like I’ve just agreed to a date. Fuck. “Definitely.” She leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Keep an eye out for me, I’ll wear something special.”

Jesus.

I glance over her head and see Sugar walking toward the arts building. The reaction is instantaneous, a heavy warmth rolling like waves down my limbs, my cock tingling in anticipation. That’s the problem when you’ve been naked and sweaty with someone you’re into. Your body just wants it again and again. I definitely want it again with Sugar, which pretty much hammers the nail in the coffin with Syd. I’ve had a little fun with her too, and I have zero interest in going back down that road.

I slam the locker door, mutter, “Whatever,” and walk off. I make a beeline toward Sugar. As I get closer, I realize she’s fussing with one of those ancient cameras.

“You know there’s one of those on your phone,” I say, once I’m a few feet away. “Digital, fits in your pocket, easy to edit.”

She looks up from the lens, and I see a pink blush spread across her cheeks as the memory of what we’d done last night flickers in her mind. I’d give anything to kiss her right now, claim her in front of the school, give her a Devil’s mark, but the way she clutches the camera to her chest like a shield tells me to hold back on my impulses.

“Digital is fine for amateurs, selfie-takers, and moms at the park.” She expertly attaches the lens, pressing some levers and locking everything into place. “Real art needs a real camera.”

“Yeah, but that’s a lot of work.” I pull out my phone and take a quick snap of her.

“Hey!”

I glance down at the photo. Her eyes are shrewd, mouth slanted wryly, and she’s holding the camera sort of aggressively, like it’s a gun or something. Her cheeks are also still flushed pink. She’s beautiful. I shove the phone back in my pocket, out of her reach. “See? So much easier.”

She shakes her head and starts toward Dr. Ross’s class. “Funny. I’d think if anyone would get it, it’d be you.”

“Me? Why?”

She slides me a sidelong glance. “I’ve seen your ride, Bass. You could have bought some flashy, quiet, easy car, but you went vintage and put in the work. That must have taken a lot of time and patience, attention to detail. I know you’re like this whirling dervish of chaos, but I bet when you’re really into something, you don’t just want the easy way. You want to do it right.”

In one sentence, Sugar managed to completely verbalize how I feel about her, and she doesn’t even realize it.

She steps ahead of me and I grab the strap on her bag, gently tugging her back. I jerk my head to the side, encouraging her to follow me to an empty computer classroom. For once, she doesn’t fight back, not even looking super cagey when I ease the door halfway closed.

Even still, I make sure to walk around her, not blocking her exit. “I wanted to, you know, make sure things are still good with us after last night.”

She gives me a cutting look, even though her blush intensifies. “Do I not seem okay?”

“Seems like every other exchange we’ve had was pretty heated, and you haven’t threatened me in a while. Figured I’d check in.” I glance over her shoulder to make sure no one is coming in here. “Although, I guess last night was pretty heated, too.”

“I’m fine,” she says, hands still clenched around her camera. “Remember h

ow I’m the one who came to your room?”

“Yeah,” I say, staring at her mouth, “you definitely came, alright.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you looking to get threatened again?”

“Whirling dervish, remember?” Unable to stifle the impulse any longer, I dart forward and steal a kiss. It’s brief, but the heat of her mouth against mine is worth the fleetingness. Her eyes are still blinking closed when I pull back. “Listen, there’s a car show tonight. Do you want to go with me?”

Her forehead creases, probably processing the fact I’ve jumped subjects again. When she doesn’t reply right away, I wish I hadn’t asked. Too much? Too fast? Too eager? I’m in a world I’m not sure how to navigate, with a girl who’s impossible to read.

“A car show?”

Feeling defensive, I reason, “You said you couldn’t get off campus much to take pictures. I just thought there might be some good opportunities.” It’s only partially a lie. Mostly, I was thinking about how much I want her beside me again, looking all pretty and bitchy in my passenger seat.

She doesn’t seem unopposed, though. “Is it the same place as last time? I did see some cool graffiti I couldn’t get to.”