Ruthless knight

Cole

I’m pretty sure this is the first time a girl has ever turned down a designer bag. 

“You don’t want it,” I repeat. 

Goddamnit. Bianca told me she’d like it.

Not bothering to clarify or close her locker, Sawyer brushes past me. “I have to get to class.” 

Dumbfounded, I look at Oakley. “She doesn’t want it.” 

Oakley shrugs. “What can I tell you, man. Girls are stupid.” 

Yeah, but not this girl. Something’s going on. 

The hallway is almost clear by the time I catch up to her. “We need to talk.” 

“By talk, do you mean bite my head off like you did on Saturday?” 

“Is that why you don’t want the bag?” 

I guess I could have been nicer about it, but she was going to reject my ass—which would make her a hypocrite because we both know she secretly wants me. 

Sawyer is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. 

And if she stopped being stubborn and trying to resist me…we’d have a lot more fun for the duration of the bet. 

She gives her head a shake. “I don’t have time for this, Cole. I’m late for class.” 

“It’s homeroom. Nothing important happens there.” 

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Um, attendance does.” 

She can sort that shit out later. My bone to pick with her takes precedence. 

Refusing no for an answer, I grab her elbow and lead her into an empty classroom.

Then I stand in front of the door, blocking her from leaving. 

She makes an irritated noise. “I don’t have time for your games—” 

“What’s wrong with the bag?” 

“Nothing. It’s beautiful.” 

“Then why don’t you want it?” 

Hitching her backpack up her shoulder, she groans. “I really don’t want to talk about this, okay?” 

“Tough shit.” 

She huffs, growing more irate with me by the second. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, it was really nice of you—”

“Then what’s the prob—” 

“I’m not Casey,” she shouts. “I don’t have money, I’m not ski

“What’s your point?” 

I’ve taken a lot of hits to the head playing football, but not so many I’m oblivious to shit. 

She pokes her chest with her thumb. “My point is that I am okay with me not being any of those things…but it’s obvious you aren’t.”  

I’m not sure how me buying her a birthday present made her come to that conclusion. 

“It’s a fucking purse.” 

“It’s not a fucking purse,” she counters. “It’s more than that. It’s…I am not them. And no matter how much shit you charge to your daddy’s credit card in hopes of making me trendy and popular so I’ll fit in and things will be easier for you…it won’t work.”  

Her words sting. 

They shouldn’t, but they do. 

“That’s why you think I did it?”

She draws in a shaky breath. “Why else would you?” 

I tell her the honest truth. “Because a spiteful bitch destroyed something of yours…and I wanted to fix it.” 

Her eyes become glassy. “Why?” 

“I don’t know,” I answer in frustration. “Because I fucking felt like it, all right?” 

“Colton,” she presses. 

“Casey ruined your shit because of me,” I growl. “If it was anyone else she fucked with, I wouldn’t care, but it wasn’t. It was you…and that’s a problem for me.”  

She swallows hard. “Why is it a prob—” 

She doesn’t get to finish her statement…because I crush my mouth against hers.  

Unlike our last kiss, this one isn’t meant to tease and taunt her. 

This one is carnal, unrestrained. A bomb detonating. 

I lick the seam of her lips, urging her to part them for me. 

The moment she does, I slide my tongue inside, ripping her bullshit contract to shreds. 

I greedily explore every inch of her hot little mouth like a fiend. She tastes like i

I might not remember our first kiss…but I’ll sure as fuck never forget this one. 

Sliding my hands down her back, I give her plump ass a firm squeeze. 

“That’s why,” I rasp into her mouth before I edge away. 

 “Oh.” A small smile unfurls. “That’s a pretty good reason.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Pretty good?” I lean in. “Fuck that, I can do better—” 

She places her finger to my lips, stopping me. “Not so fast. As nice as that moment was…it also complicates things.” 

“How so?” 

Once more, she gives me that you’re an idiot look. “We’re fake dating, rem—”

“Are we?” 

She’s the one who looks confused now. “Are we what?”

“Fake dating.” 

There’s no way she can’t acknowledge this attraction between us. 

As far as I’m concerned, the lines are blurred enough, we shouldn’t have to define what’s real and what’s not. 

Or maybe we should. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are we fake dating?” I repeat.

She blinks. “Is this a trick question?” 

“If I told you it was real…that I wanted it to be real between us…what would you say?” 

She looks uneasy. “I don’t…is that what you’re saying?” 

The one and only thing my father ever taught me was to never show your hand until the opposing party shows theirs. 

I don’t want to play games with Sawyer, but I need to know what’s inside her head. 

Find out if she’s ready to test out the waters like I am.

“No. But if I was…what would your answer be?”

Blowing out a breath, she takes a few steps back. “I have no ide—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Bible Thumper.” 

Her nostrils flare. “Okay, fine. If you told me you wanted us to date for real, I’d probably tell you…” She lifts her gaze to mine. “That I’d need a lot of time to think about it.” 

She’s not saying no, but it’s not a yes either. 

Smirking, I trace her lips with my thumb. “You’re late for class.”