When Sinners Play (Sinners of Hawthorne University 1)

If anything, it’s only gotten stronger.

Wilder.

More irresistible.

I still feel the press of his fingers on my hips, his blunt nails digging into my skin when his thrusts got hard. I run my fingers over them; small crescent-shaped divots texture my skin, and I can’t help the curl of my toes when I realize he dug in deep enough that I’ll likely have little half-moon scars there, just to prove that he had me again.

I wonder, in this moment of dazed silence where we don’t speak, what the fuck this is all supposed to mean.

What it’s leading to.

Where it will end.

I don’t believe in fate or destiny. I don’t hold out hope that there’s some great karmic plan that shapes our lives. Things just happen—and more often than not, they’re shitty things.

Yet it feels like there should be a reason why Gray continues to be a fixture in my life, especially when we both keep trying so hard to push each other away. I need some explanation for why this man affects me so much, why he holds a key to parts of my soul I thought were locked away for good.

Who gave him that key?

Who gave him the power to make me feel?

The black hole in my chest, the comforting, heavy darkness, is nowhere to be found right now. Instead, I’m intimately aware of the blood rushing through my veins, the sweat drying on my body, the cum dripping down my thigh.

I feel… transformed.

Human.

Alive.

I turn my head a little, taking in Gray’s profile as he lies next to me. In the aftermath of leg-weakening sex, I can admit to myself that he really is fucking gorgeous. Beautiful and hard and masculine. Every line of his face is strong and dominant, from the curve of his jaw to the rise of his cheekbones and the shape of his nose.

His lips are still a little swollen from the way we attacked each other, and I find that I want to kiss him again. Maybe slower this time, deeper. I want to take my time exploring the soft firmness of his mouth now that some of the desperate need has been temporarily sated.

I’m about to lean up onto my elbow and indulge my stupid whims for once when Gray turns his head to look at me too.

His blue-green eyes meet mine as he opens his mouth, and when he speaks, reality hits me across the face as tangibly as any balled fist.

“Well. At least it was better than the first time.”

The coldness in his voice cuts through the air, a knife wedged between my ribs. The way he says it makes the soft sweetness of my previous thoughts turn to poison inside me, souring my stomach.

At least it was better than the first time.

I know what he’s doing. It’s the same fucking thing he did the first day he saw me on campus, only this time his little show of disdain is only meant for an audience of one.

Me.

A retort stays lodged in my throat as Gray pushes himself up from my bed then stoops over to grab his boxers, jeans, and shirt. He dresses silently, and for once I say nothing to him.

What am I supposed to say?

Should I defend myself? Point out that he’s only protesting so goddamn loud to hide the fact that he lik

es fucking me?

No. That’s not what it is.

He likes hurting me, and I hate that this time… this time it feels like I’ve actually gone and fucking let him.