Shattered Dynasty

Gross.

I don't even want to think about it.

Trent’s eyes look dark when I return my gaze up to his. The blues of his irises are almost all gone, replaced with black pupils. As to be expected, his jaw is tight.

I’m not sure if he’s angry with me still, but he doesn’t seem to be. Not really. At least not more so than usual.

“Come on, let’s go.”

I shake my head. “I have to get to school.”

“You don’t have to be at school for two hours.”

“I forgot you know my schedule.”

My eyes roll of their own accord.

He glowers down at me. “I know everything about you, Payton.”

“Not really,” I mumble under my breath.

We’re both silent for a minute, staring at each other before Trent takes a step toward the direction of his building.

“Come on.” His fingers brush against my elbow, nudging me forward. “I need to clean your leg, and then you can go to school.”

“I don’t have time. The next train isn’t for two hours. I’ll still miss class.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Don’t do me any favors, please,” I mumble.

They always come with strings attached. The kind capable of choking.

“Want to say that louder?”

“I said don’t do me any favors.” I tip my chin up and cross my arms. “I know you’re just going to have a damn attitude about it later.”

That shuts him up.

Together, we start to head back in the direction of his place, but I’m slow on my feet. It’s not that it hurts a ton, but it stings, and because of the blood trickling down my leg, I’m limping.

I’m shocked when his hand reaches out, stopping us. The next thing I know, I’m in the air and resting tight in his arms.

Cradled to his chest.

Like the day I cried into him. Only this time, I’m able to enjoy it.

Dammit, Payton. You are not supposed to enjoy this.

“I can walk,” I say, sounding more breathless than I wish to.

“This is faster.”

He can’t hold me like this. Not when I am embraced so tight I can feel his heartbeat.

I hate him.

Fine, maybe not hate him, but I have strong feelings against him. Feelings that will certainly be confused if he’s nice to me again. The last time he was, I was torn up inside for days, not sleeping and playing over the moment on repeat in my head.

And that was merely a hug.

This . . .

This is so much more.

He has to put me down, or I’m destined to be the next star of a Groundhog Day sequel, and this is the day that I will choose to relive. That, or the one when I spotted him enjoying his sauna nude.

“You can’t just pick a girl up on the street like this,” I plead, hoping he will come to his senses before I allow myself to melt into his warmth.

Because if I close my eyes right now, his presence is enough to soothe me. To help me forget all my problems . . . except he is the problem, so I can’t allow this.

“Yet . . . I did.” He tightens his grip on me. “What are you going to do to stop me? Just be quiet. The faster we get home, the faster we’ll have you cleaned up, and the faster I can get back to my day.”

“Again . . . Don’t need your help.” I realize I’m leaning into him and shift away, sucking in a breath when he just pulls me closer. “And I didn’t ask to be knocked over by that guy.”

“You’re still going to get my help.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Rich coming from you,” he says, and I bite my lip to keep from saying an obnoxious retort.

He’s helping me.

And he is right.

At the speed I was walking, it would take all day for me to get it cleaned. I would never make the train.

This might be completely embarrassing, but it certainly does help.

In his arms, I feel strangely at peace.

I don’t want to read into these feelings.

Nor do I want to think about the way he smells.

Or the butterflies that are flying in my stomach.

Nope.

Keep your thoughts on something that doesn’t make your body warm.

Socks.

Yep.

That’s what I’ll think of. Smelly socks . . .

He takes a step, and as he does, he pulls me even closer to him. His hands that are wrapped around me dig into my exposed flesh.

Shit.

Socks.

Socks.

Socks.

It’s not helping.

Nothing is helping.

His fingers are too close to my upper thigh . . . and not close enough to where I’ve wanted him for weeks. Touching my skin under the hem of my dress, wishing they would move higher.

My eyes flutter closed.

My senses reel with sensations.

Conflicting emotions swirl inside me.

As much as I want to deny it, I can’t. The feeling of him on my skin has me hoping for more. With each step he takes, his fingers move ever-so-slightly, a gentle massage that sends currents of desire pooling in my core.