Smirking, I lean back into my seat, putting my cigarette between my lips as I type a reply.
Me: Because I own you now.
Unknown number: Because I own you now.
Istare at the text until my eyes burn while tapping my finger against the side of my phone. I’m restless, and I haven’t been able to let this go all day.
I need to figure out who was behind the mask. Whose cock I swallowed.
More importantly, I need to sort my fucking head. What the hell was I thinking, getting caught up and sending a damn video of myself jacking off to a stranger.
A fuckingstranger—one of Cole’s insufferable friends, nonetheless.
A recipe for disaster.
But which one? Samson, Keith, or someone else? There were twelve on his team, and I don’t know the names of the other two, but one of them—a ripped guy with more muscle than brains—is known to swing both ways.
Fuck, what’s his name again?
Jack? Jackson? Whatever. He’s probably the asshole behind those texts who thinks I’ll just lie back and take his threats.
“Are you listening at all?” Mia asks.
I blink at her, then snap out of it and pocket my phone while she frowns.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve acted weird for days.” She hesitates. “First, you didn’t want to have sex this morning, and then you attacked your brother.”
I stiffen. “I didn’t attack him.”
“Blaise…you choked him.”
I snort, leaning back against the brick wall while watching students mill about. Of course, she takes his side. Poor Cole. He plays the part of the tormented soul so well that even my own damn girlfriend buys the act. It’s fucking stupid.
“You know he acts out. His father?—”
“What is he? Five? Stop defending him.”
“I’m sorry.” Worrying her lip, she slides her palms up my chest, but I refuse to look at her, or I might say something I regret. “I’m on your side. You know that, right?”
Scoffing, I cross my arms, and her hands fall away.
“Why are you pushing me away, Blaise?”
“I’m not having this discussion.” I grit my teeth, restless.
“You can be so cold sometimes.” Her voice drips with hurt, but I can’t find it in me to care as Cole and his friends turn the corner.
He walks with his head down, his broad shoulders swaying with every step. His dark hair falls in his eyes as he adjusts his AirPod in his ear.
My throat goes dry, and I swallow, hating the physical reaction he evokes in me by merely existing.
“I’m here for you, Blaise.” Mia slides her fingers into the hair at my nape, and I meet her gaze, but my attention soon skates back to Cole, who lifts his head.
Those blue eyes clash with mine. I’m fucking lost, unable to look away as the crowd parts for him and his friends. His gaze soon slides past me to Mia, and his jaw clenches.
Warm lips press against mine, and Mia’s sharp nails scratch my neck. She smells of coconut and vanilla, a warm and exotic scent I used to love. But that was before I took a fucking piss after Cole had a shower, and his citrus and leather scent assaulted me in the steam-filled bathroom.
Fuck. He was everywhere—his handprint on the mirror after he swiped it clean of condensation to look at his reflection, his wet toothbrush in the cup, and his crumpled jeans beside the laundry basket.
