Page 30 of One Spicy Summer

It’s Rygaard. Voice low. Rough.Hungry.

“Rygaard? What are you doing here?”

“I saw you,” he growls, pushing the door shut with his foot.

“Saw me what?”

“Saw you with Donovan. Saw his hands on you. Saw him all over you.” He stalks toward me.

“Why? Are you jealous, Ry?” He pulls me close. Nose to nose. His breath warm and heavy on my skin.

“You haven’t seen jealous,” he says. “Not until you’ve seen me watch you with someone else. Idefinejealous, Prez.” He backs me up. “I don’t care if someonelooksat what’s mine. But when theytouchit?” His eyes flare. “That’s when I lose my fucking mind.”

A shiver tears through me.

“Oh, now I’m yours?” I challenge, even as my heart pounds. “That’s funny, weren’t you just in a closet with some bimbo from class?”

I barely register what happens next.

.

Chapter Fourteen

Rygaard

I watch her walk away the second the bottle lands on me. It’s my turn to pick one of these needy girls to take into the closet for a little fun, but there’s no way I’d pick anyone if it wasn’t going to be her.

She doesn’t stick around long enough to see me respectfully decline their offers.

“It’s your life if you want to commit social suicide, Ry,” Donovan mutters, having the audacity to say anything when he had his hands all overmygirl.

“Better social suicide than murder,” I shoot back, watching his face shift. “Fucking touch her again, and I’ll end you.”

I walk off, not giving a damn what people think. As long asheknows exactly what I mean, that’s all that matters. His silence speaks louder than words.

Next on my list: find my girl.

Passing the drink station, Ryleigh nods in my direction. I take the cue and walk over. “What’s up?” I ask.

“Looking for Presley?” she teases.

“Maybe. You seen her?”

“Sure did. About fifteen minutes ago. Fixed something to boost her confidence.”

My gut twists. “Not one of yourspecialdrinks, right?”

She grins. “Wrong. Girl looked like she needed one, but I might’ve slipped her three.”

“Three?” My voice rises. Ryleigh shakes her head, giggling as she pours another drink.

“Ryleigh, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She needed my help. Poor, lost, little lamb,” she says, laughing. “Better check upstairs. That’s where my drinks usually send people.”

Smirking despite myself, I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, I hear a tiny voice. “How could you be so stupid?” she squeaks.

Smiling, I push the door open.

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