And though I suck at verbalizing it, they mean everything to me. They’ve given me the unconditional love I’ve only ever known or received from my mom and Gina, but more than that, they’ve been there for me without fail through the hardest time of my life. Hell, theymetme when I was in the throes of my mom’s cancer diagnosis, and instead of running away from the messiness of the situation, they chose to put their hands on my shoulders and try to help me through it. Frankly, I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve them, but I’ll forever be grateful for it.
“Well, would you look at that? This plan of ours is already working,” Damian coos delightedly, grinning at me over his coffee.
“That reminds me. When you said you need thisto work to ‘get my parents off my back,’” I paraphrase in a crude imitation of his voice, “were you?—”
“Whoa, party foul!” Damian interrupts before I can finish my question. “Youneverbring up my parents without advance warning. Geez, and just when I was starting to enjoy myself. You’re such a buzz kill, Dornan.”
I blow an exasperated breath through my nose. “And you’re so dramatic,” I mutter. “Seriously, though…are they really threatening to disown you?”
I don’t know why I ask or why I even care. It doesn’t matter why he needs this to work so long as he fulfills his end of the bargain. And it’s not like I feel bad for him.
And yet, my stomach twists when Damian bristles. “Oh, believe me, the threat is real,” he says, averting his gaze to some far-off point in the distance.
“Is it because of the bet? Because of what happened last spring?”
I’m impressed I manage to ask that without flying into a blind rage. Damian seems surprised, too, because a weed of panic takes root in his eyes as they snap back to mine.
“What?”
“It was quite the scandal, right?” Wow, I’ve even managed to maintain my composure enough to press the issue. Huh. Maybe this is that whole personal growth thing people are always talking about. “I can’t imagine they took it well.”
He chokes on a bitter laugh. “That’s the understatement of the century.”
“So, that’s it. That’s why?” I need to know—not because I care about his well-being, but because there’s a side of me that still clings to the hurt he caused me last school year. Call me petty, but I want to be able to sit here in the contentment that he fucked around and is about to find out, and that I’m going to benefit while he does all this for nothing, only to crash and burn. Welcome to the consequences of your actions. He would certainly deserve whatever comes to him.
He shakes his head, stops, then nods a little only to stop again. “It’s…part of it, but not the only reason. Let’s just say, I’ve been doing things to piss them off for a very long time now.”
I raise a brow, intrigued. “On purpose?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if I did it by accident,” he says, his mouth curling at the corners.
I scoff. “What a fuckboy answer. Color me shocked.”
His responding grin is shameless. “What can I say? I am nothing if not true to form.”
Damian raises his cup to his lips, and my eyes inadvertently lock on his throat…and on his Adam’s apple, which bobs when he swallows. The sight shouldn’t do anything for me. Woo, a dude swallowed some coffee, alert the press! And yet…for some reason I can’t explain (and despite hating his guts), it’s remarkably sexy.He’sincredibly sexy. His gorgeous bronze skin, the strain of his chiseled jaw when he draws the liquid into his mouth… Honestly, the scene before me seems to straddle the edge between PG-13 and downright pornographic.
Seeming to sense my thoughts, he sets his cup down and licks his lips as if to taunt me. Heat pools in my belly, in that place that demands physical gratification, and?—
I have to look away. I have to think about something—anything—else, but all I can seem to focus on is the memory of his tongue on my breasts, which, of course, only makes my mind wander to other places. To how it would feel to have his tongue?—
No. Nope. I donotthink so.
I grab my own coffee and throw my head back, downing it like it’s a glass of water. Then, when I’m sure my vagina has ceded control, and I won’t accidentally ask him to fuck me senseless, I say, “What will you do if they follow through on the threat?”
Damian blinks at me, confused. “Well, that’s whyyou’rehere. To help ensure that doesn’t happen.”
I nod and decide to let go of the subject for now. He clearly doesn’t want to get into it, and considering my own evasive answers to his questions, I can’t really blame him. It’s best we don’t know the full extent of each other’s motivations. Surface level only, like we agreed.
Because god forbid he say something that might actually make me feel something for him other than loathing. Likesympathy. I shudder at the thought. My vagina is already sympathetic enough. Or dumb enough to not care about the caliber of person we fuck.
“So, we’ve covered favorite color, food, and movie,” Damian counts on his fingers. “What other relevant information might someone be likely to question us on?”
“Major?” I suggest, thankful for the change in topic. “I feel like what you’re studying would be a girlfriend thing to know.”
“Speaking of, what the hell kind of class did I walk in on earlier? What are you majoring in, time travel or something?”
I bark out a laugh. “Math. We’re learning about Graph Theory.”
