Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

I stare at the photo for a long moment and then reply back.

Bass: This guy is hot. Kind of a broody bastard but still sexy.

Sugar: He is pretty good-looking. I probably should get all over him. Too bad he’s not here and I’m down in the photo lab all alone.

I freeze, keys in hand, eyebrows climbing my forehead. I take a furtive look around the lot before responding.

Bass: A pretty girl like you, all alone? That doesn’t sound safe.

Sugar: Maybe there’s a broody bastard out there that wants to come keep me company.

Yeah, that’s an invitation, and one I don’t plan on squandering. I jog across campus, darting behind the tower to stay out of Dewey’s line of vision, and then over to the arts building. I open the door and head down to basement level where the studios are located. The photography lab is marked and I try the door, but it’s locked. I take a photo of the door and send it along with a text:

Knock Knock

My heart’s hammering from both the running and the anticipation. Fighting with Sugar isn’t something I wanted to do today, but I brace myself in case I’ve misread the flirtatious nature of the texts. I’m not crazy, right? That was flirting. No way that wasn’t flirting!

The door swings open and Sugar stands there with her dark eyeliner and sexy mouth.

The instant I say, “I heard someone down here needed a broody bastard to protect them,” I regret them, because Jesus Christ, Bass, where did all your fucking game go? But she lunges forward and grabs me by the jacket, pulling me down for a searing kiss.

It takes me by surprise, but not for long. I kick the door closed with my foot and thread my fingers in her hair, cupping the sides of her head. I do my best to be gentle, but it’s hard with her body pressed all up against mine. I’ve been hard for a good sixteen hours. There’s no telling my dick to calm down.

“I may have overreacted this morning,” she says between kisses, “about the laptop.”

“And you’re apologizing by bringing me to your lair to seduce me?” I duck down to suck a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her warm throat. “This is definitely not going to teach me a lesson about not buying you gifts.”

My dick strains painfully and I take a deep breath. Sugar’s initiated things before and I’ve tried my best to encourage her to take the lead, but it’s getting so fucking hard to rein things in. I’ve never spent this much time trying to get into a girl’s pants. It usually comes easy, freely. This whole plan to sit back and wait for her to want it is fucking killing me.

To my relief, she takes a step back, her hazel eyes raking up and down my body. She places her hands on my chest, then slides them up to my shoulders and pushes my jacket off.

I lean my back against the door and take a chance.

I cup her neck, stroking my thumb against her jaw. She blinks up at me, mouth red, but doesn’t flinch away like she had the other times. Maybe it’s working, this whole idea of random, small, regular touches. Before it has the chance to evolve into something bad, I trail my hand down her chain, reaching for the dog tags and rubbing the raised letters. “Not that I’m complaining, but want to tell me what’s going on?”

She looks up with wide, clear eyes. “Yesterday was a really big deal for me, Bass. I’m not sure you get it, because you probably do shit like that all the time, but—”

“I’ve never done anything like that,” I cut in, needing her to know.

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve fingered a girl before. That wasn’t the work of a novice.”

I sweep her hair back, arguing, “I’ve never done it just for her, just because I wanted to make her feel good. I’ve never taken my time like that. Pretty sure I’ve never done anything with a girl and not busted a nut.” I give her a significant look. “And definitely never in the backseat of my car.”

Her mouth curls into a grin that’s probably a shade shier than she’d admit to. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think of the upholstery.” I laugh when she playfully pushes my shoulder. “Is this your way of trying to thank me for completely rocking your world?”

She scoffs. “You’re so pathologically full of yourself, it’s impossible to thank you for anything without feeling annoyed about it, but basically? Yes.” She does look annoyed, but beneath that low brow and slanted mouth, there’s also something else. “The point is, the laptop. You’ve already given me a lot, Bass. Too much.”

I drop my head down and graze my nose over the shell of her ear. “I told you, giving is in my nature. It’s not a big deal for me.”

“Well, it is a big deal for me.” Her hands are now flat on my stomach. “And I’d just feel better if things weren’t so one-sided.”

I feel my eyebrow inch up my forehead. I wonder if she can tell how much she helps me. Sure, I’m a little—okay, a lot—sexually frustrated, but for the first time in my life I’m being forced to slow down a little bit, and it’s not the worst thing in the world. Actually, the rewards are pretty fucking sweet.

“Sugar,” I start, trying to come up with the words to explain all that to her without looking like a pussy, “if this is about you feeling like you owe me something, then you’re dead fucking wrong.”

“Not owe,” she clarifies. “Just… even. Meeting you in the middle. You made an effort—you made me feel good—and I want you to give me the chance to do the same. I don’t know how it’ll shake out, but you can be chill. I know that now. You can be—”