Page 43 of Tell Me Why
Christian
I’m seriously fuckedin the head. Because, damn, that flutter at the base of Eve’s throat excites me more than it should. And that fear in her eyes sends blood rushing straight to my already swollen cock.
Why can’t I get enough of this girl?
Ever since I spotted her in Professor Cannon’s class all those months ago, head bowed, trying desperately to vanish into the gray carpet, I’ve been obsessed with her. And I’m never obsessed with anyone.
Maybe it was the futility of it all—her attempt to disappear beneath layers of fabric. But you can’t disguise the kind of appeal Eve has, even buried under baggy sweats and a hoodie that swallows her whole. There’s something about her that shines through regardless. Some undefinable thing that has me in a choke hold—and I wish to God I knew what that thing was…
Because maybe then, I’d have a chance at fighting it.
“Violence doesn’t turn me on,” she insists, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
Except, sheislying. I’ve noticed she wets her bottom lip when she’s being dishonest—and if I’m being real right now, I desperately want to prove her wrong, just for the pleasure of punishing her.
“We’ll see,” I smirk. “Let’s go.”
She looks confused. Good. I like keeping her off balance. “What? Where?”
Without telling her a damn thing, I grab her hand and pull her through the hall and down the main staircase. The party is still raging downstairs, dance music so loud, it’s rattling the ancient stained glass windows.
In the livingroom, it looks like most of the girls have been rooted from their hiding spots and are currently scattered throughout the room, getting fucked on every available surface—the couch, tables, window seats, any spot with a flat surface.
Thank God the regular cleaning crew is scheduled to come tomorrow morning.
But as usual, there are more guys than girls here tonight. And anyone not fortunate enough to catch a fox sits back, smoking, drinking, watching the festivities play out.
I switch the music off, and abrupt silence falls over the room, drawing confused looks. Everyone stops what they’re doing and turns to face me.
“I’d like to make an offer to the guys who didnotcatch a fox this evening…” I tug Eve forward, and she lets out a surprised squeak. “My fox has made her dissatisfaction with me pretty clear, so I’d like to offer her to anyone willing to fight for her…”
“What?” Eve gasps, twisting to flash me a horrified look.
“No strings, no punishment for striking a Sacred Son,” I continue. “You fight me and whoever wins, keeps her.” I’m hyperaware of the pulse in her wrist, thrumming rapidly against my fingertips. “Well, for three months, then we ship her back to her brother—all stretched out and used up...”
She gasps and yanks backward. “You’re a fucking lunatic.”
Ignoring her comment, I continue, “I’ve already had a taste and I can tell you, this one isspicy.” She slips out of my hand briefly, but I catch her again and tighten my grip, pulling her against me. “But she might be fun to break. So, what’d you say, boys? Anyone have the balls to take a shot?”
No one will meet my gaze, but that’s okay, I already have one very brave cunt in mind…
“Aidan,” I say, flicking my chin at him. “You seemed interested in my girl earlier. Why don’t you step up?”
Aidan scans the room, his eyes darting from face to face like he’s trying to figure out who the hell I’m talking to. Despite being an offensive lineman on the ExU football team—a mountain of muscle standing at least 300 pounds with thighs powerful enough to crush a toddler—uncertainty radiates off him.
“Yeah,youdude,” I clarify, pointing at him. “You were the one trying to hook up with Eve earlier, right?”
“Yeah,” he answers. Uncertainty vanishes as he locks eyes with me and steps forward, all business now.
“Great.” I rub my hands together, the anticipation of violence making my mouth water. “Let’s do this.”
Aidan’s gaze flicks over Eve possessively, his jaw clenched, before his gaze shifts back to me.Oh, fuck—he’s going to pay for that. She doesn’t belong to him, and fuck if she ever will. Because one thing about me—I never step up to a fight I can’t win.
“Ready when you are,” Aidan says, pulling his shoulders back, tilting his head from side to side to loosen up.
I crack my knuckles, sizing Aidan up quickly. He favors his left leg, probably an old injury, and his stance is too wide—a common mistake for football players who think brute force translates into fighting skill. His hands are up, but he’s already breathing heavy, adrenaline burning through his oxygen before we’ve even started. Despite his size advantage, his eyes betray him—there’s hesitation there, a flicker of doubt. He might have the mass, but I’ve been baptized in violence since I could walk.
And you know what they say—the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and I’m going to enjoy making this mountain topple…
