Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

I clutch her dog tags, pulling her into the space between my legs. “Well maybe Sebastian Wilcox just found someone worth calling his girlfriend.”

Her eyes search mine, like she’s doing the long-division of it, wondering how those pieces fit together. Just fucking fine, I want to say. “In no universe would my boyfriend be someone who refers to himself in third person.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t reject me. My fragile ego couldn’t handle it.”

“Your ego is about as fragile as a lead anvil.”

“True,” I concede. “Is this about the thing you said earlier, about needing romance? Because I could romance the absolute shit out of you, girl. Flowers, candy, switchblades, I can really do it up right.”

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nbsp; She groans, tipping forward to rest her forehead on my bare shoulder. “Oh god, that was basically like a challenge to you, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.” Cautiously, I wind my arms around her, leaving them loose around her hips. The way she stiffens tells me that this isn’t like before—it’s not one of those horny moments where it doesn’t bother her as much. This is a bigger touch, stronger than I’ve ever tried before. I give her room to pull away or shake me off.

Instead, she lets out this full-body shudder and presses closer. Even though her breath hitches, chest trembling against mine, she lets us freeze like that, and it’s not like she’s okay with it. I can tell she’s scared, that it’s doing something bad to her, to be held like this.

I try to pull away, but her hands fist into tight balls against my ribs. “Just wait,” she says, voice thin, but full of determination.

I don’t know how she works through it. In a perfect world, it’d be instant, because I’m me and she’s her, and we fit together easily, effortlessly.

Neither of us live in a world like that.

We live in a world where we have to fight, so that’s what we do. I fight against the impulse to tighten my arms—to take what I want, just because it should be mine—and she fights against whatever makes this so unbearable.

It must be ten minutes of us standing like that before her breath starts evening out. Even then, I still don’t move, shattering the silence every now and then with a heavy gulp, trying so hard not to fuck it all up. My muscles are screaming with the urge to fidget, to move, but I close my eyes and will them all to relax, to wait for her to finish the battle.

She turns her head to rest her warm cheek against my chest, and when I chance a look at her face, she looks tired.

“I think… yeah. I think I’m good.” Tired and relieved. “Thank you. For waiting. For letting me see.”

Still frozen in place, I ask, “See what?”

“If I could do this,” she says, sinking into my chest, “without feeling afraid.”

I take a chance, finally moving my arms around her more firmly. She doesn’t react beyond pressing closer. “It’s not the chore you seem to think it is.”

She lets out a long, shaky exhale, but I can tell this one isn’t about fear or exhaustion. Her eyes flutter closed when she says, “I could be your girlfriend.”

My lips spread into a grin as I look down at her. “Yeah?”

She opens one eye to glare at me. “Buy me flowers and I’ll shove them up your ass.”

“Noted.”

When she kisses me again, the anxiety and anger and ever-present irritability slip away, and I know that no decision that makes my chest feel this light could have been a mistake. Sugar Voss is mine and I’m completely willing to be hers.

20

Sugar

Other than Netflix romcoms and the occasional trashy romance novel, I have no idea what to expect in a boyfriend—especially from a guy like Sebastian Wilcox. He’s unpredictable in a regular situation, but being the public object of his affection? Let’s just say I better adjust quickly, as well as everyone else in our orbit.

“This is fucking weird,” I tell him, trying not to be overwhelmed by the stares, the whispers, and the way my heart flutters anxiously as we walk down the hall, his fingers threaded through mine. That alone had taken me a minor five-minute freak-out in our little space behind the dining hall to adjust to. “Even on my first day here, people didn’t notice me this much.”

He grins, giving our hands an obnoxious swing. “What can I say. I’ve always been a fascinating point of interest at school. Now you’re fascinating, too.”

I roll my eyes, because it’s become apparent someone has to try to keep his ego in check, but he’s not wrong. Sebastian is incredibly popular. “Maybe we should play with the idea of non-public displays of affection.”