A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)

“Nothing.” I cross my arms over my chest and don’t miss his gaze dropping down. “You know, it’s not like I don’t see girls flirting with you all the time.”

He looks taken aback. “No one’s flirting with me.”

I scoff. I refuse to bring up Sydney. That’s partly out of fear. What if the rumor was true? It would crush me. And if it’s not? It’s not worth bringing up. It’ll only feed her need for rumors and gossip. “I’m just saying, scantily dressed men aren’t leaving baked goods in my locker.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “Come on, you know that’s just a stupid football thing. I don’t even know which one left it in my locker.” His fingers squeeze my hip and in a quieter voice, he asks, “What’s this about?”

“It’s about…” I look down to the end of the stands. Students are filing into the gym now. “It’s about labels. About what we are to one another.” Reyn and I had both made promises. Never Sydney. Never Sebastian. It hasn’t escaped my attention that we’ve never made promises about anyone else. The ambiguousness of it has this way of rattling me at completely random times.

He studies me, like he can see right through me. My skin prickles under the intensity, but his free hand grabs mine, threading our fingers together. “I don’t know what you want to call this, Baby V. It’s twisted and caught up in a bunch of bullshit and secrets—which, for the record, goes against all my instincts.” He hooks a finger under my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “All day, all I want to do is let the whole goddamn world know you’re mine.” His voice is low and rough in a way that makes me shiver when he says, “I’ve marked you. I’ve been inside you. I’ve made you come three different ways.” His mouth hovers over mine. “And god knows you’ve done the same for me. If you don’t know that I’m already yours, then you’re not paying attention. Because I am—completely.”

All of that is raw and real, I can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. I push up on my toes at the same time that he bends, mouths meeting in the middle. It’s a different sort of kiss, less horny, more determined. This kiss is a promise, and it’s about more than just two people. This is a pact. This is us agreeing to be in this together, and when he pulls back, the wild anxiety rolling around in my chest has abated. Something warm and so happy replaces it, that I’m almost sure he can see it in my smile.

He thumbs my lip, sighing. “We’re going to have to tell him, aren’t we?”

“Eventually,” I concede, because Reyn is right. As much as we want to belong to each other, it can never fully happen until we cross that bridge. “We’ll make a plan.”

He nods, brushing the hair off my cheek. “Maybe soon we can…”

I watch curiously as he trails off, eyes going dark. “What?”

“Maybe we can get together again,” he answers, and from the spark in his eyes, I know exactly what kind of ‘getting together’ he wants to do.

“God, please,” I groan, letting my head fall back.

I watch him through slitted eyes. “Maybe tonight?”

His lips curl into a slow smirk. “Maybe.” And then, the smirk falls. “This isn’t just about sex for me. You know that, right? I can’t ask you to go to the dance with me, but I would if I could.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need a dance.”

“I do have something to give you, though.” His voice is slightly raised. The gym is filling quickly and above us, students are climbing the bleachers. He shuffles closer. “I’ve been meaning to. I’ve been carrying it around for a while.” He shoves his hand in his pocket and looks at me, forehead creased. “And for the record, I did not steal it.”

I laugh, confused but happy. “Okay.”

He holds out his hand and a small silver charm sits in the middle of his palm. At first glance, I think it’s a butterfly or maybe a dragonfly, but then I notice the small, glassy bulb at the tail. He cups his hand to block the light and a faint glow comes from it.

“It’s a firefly,” I say, shocked. My hand trembles when I take it from him, thumb running over the charm. He can’t possibly know the significance—probably just thought of my cat. But this? I meet his gaze, eyes prickling. “Reyn, it’s… it’s perfect.”

He looks down at it in my hand, eyebrows knitting together. “It’s nothing special or expensive, I just—”

I shut him up with a kiss. “Thank you.”

It’s way past time for us to go back out to the gym floor. Hands linked, we make our way through the narrow path under the bleachers, back toward the exit. For the first time in a while I feel settled, secure, whole. I’ve got Reyn, the Devils, the Playthings. I’m focused and have a solid position on the newspaper. I’m clean, healthy, madly in love.

Life is actually good, for once.

“Hey,” he says, pushing me against the wall and flattening his palm next to my head. “One last kiss?”

There’s no way I’ll say no. I’ve never been able to, and when his lips meet mine, warm and soft, I know why. Reynolds McAllister owns me. Then and now. The kiss isn’t sweet and slow, like the ones we just shared. This one is fast and hard, full of the ‘maybe’ we’re waiting for, tonight. Maybe we’ll find a way to be alone. Maybe we’ll do it again. Maybe this time, I’ll find out what it’s like to have Reyn inside of me without all the nervousness and fumbling and pain.

We break apart with heaving chests and heavy eyes, but not before a shadowy figure appears at the end of the bleachers. Reyn must notice him a moment before I do because he drops my hand like it’s on fire.

It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.

Emory just caught us.

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