“Beat it, Wendt,” Kingsley growls. There’s a sharp edge to his voice. “Until further notice, Hawthorne is off-limits.”
The guy’s eyes bulge as he waggles a finger between us. “Wait a minute, are you two together?”
Kingsley shakes his head. “No, but she’s mine just the same. Got it?”
“Whatever you say, man.” The beefy football player shrugs before sauntering away.
I watch him retreat down the hallway. “Who was that tool?”
“No one you need to concern yourself with,” is his clipped response.
My gaze snaps to him and I’m slammed with erotic images from last night. They flash through my head like a slow-motion picture show.
On my knees, staring up at him as I sucked his finger.
Him tracing my parted lips with his cock.
The head of his erection pressing into my mouth.
Kiss the crown.
Oh God.
Heat floods into my cheeks as I jerk my gaze away from him. It’s not swift enough to avoid glimpsing the knowing grin that flashes across his face.
He leans closer, invading my personal space. The scent of his woodsy cologne assaults my senses. “I’m curious to know how many times you touched yourself last night.”
I slam the locker shut with more force than necessary and lie through my teeth. “None.”
The deep scrape of his chuckle slices straight to my core before exploding. Even though I clamp my thighs together to stymie the growing need, it doesn’t do a damn bit of good.
His knuckles drag against the strip of exposed skin below the hem of my skirt. “If I slipped my fingers inside your panties, would I find them drenched?”
The huskiness of his voice threatens to send another tidal wave of arousal crashing over me. Kingsley needs to stop toying with me before I burst into flame.
“I have to get to class,” I snap, slapping his hand away.
His fingers snake out to shackle my wrist, halting me in place when I try to slip past him. He drags me closer until his face is buried against the side of my head. Electricity crackles through my veins at his slightest touch.
“Don’t run off just yet,” he whispers near the outer shell of my ear. “I’ve got something for you.”
My heart stutters. I’m almost afraid to ask. But that doesn’t stop the word from slipping free. “What?”
He drops something soft on the books I’m clutching in my arms.
What the hell is this?
I glance suspiciously from the pile of fabric to him, but his expression remains inscrutable. Gingerly I hold up the material and realize it’s a white shirt. I blink, staring at the letters boldly stamped across the front in red. It’s the same shade that matches the plaid of my skirt.
Property of K. Rothchild
This has to be a joke.
“Forget it.” I shake my head and throw it at his chest. He can take that shirt and shove it right up his—
“Excuse me?” He arches a sculpted brow as if he must have heard wrong.
“I’m not wearing that,” I growl, my voice escalating with each word.
“Hmmm.” His fingers stroke his chiseled jawline with unhurried movements. “Already reneging on our agreement? You couldn’t even make it a full twelve hours? That’s disappointing, although I should have expected nothing less from a Hawthorne.”
“I can’t wear that,” I whisper.
“You will wear it, or you can forget about my help.” He shrugs and leans against the locker as if he couldn’t care less about what I do.
And maybe he doesn’t. For Kingsley, this is nothing more than a game. For me, it’s so much more. I gnaw my bottom lip with indecision.
“Has anyone messed with you this morning?” he asks casually.
My gaze slices to him as my face scrunches with uncertainty. “What?”
He steps closer until the heat of his body radiates against mine. His voice drops. “I asked if anyone has given you trouble since you stepped foot on campus?”
“No.” They’ve ignored me, which I thought was odd. With a fresh wave of insight, I realize it was all Kingsley’s doing.
His fingers slip beneath my chin before tipping it upward until I’m left with no other choice but to meet his gaze. “Has anyone so much as looked in your direction?”
I swallow thickly. It takes effort to force out the word. “No.”
“Even though saving your ass wasn’t part of the deal, that’s exactly what I’ve done.” His hand falls away from my face. “Sure seems like I’m holding up my end of the bargain and then some, doesn’t it?”
Panic rises inside me.
When I remain silent, he balls up the shirt in his hand. “See you around, Hawthorne.”
My teeth sink into my lip, pinning it in place as I watch him saunter away.
One step.
Two steps.
Three—
“Wait!” I blurt, unable to hold it in any longer.
A smug smile tips the corners of his lips as he swings back around. “Had a change of heart, did we?”
Not bothering to answer, I hold out my hand. “Give me the shirt.”