Eden

“A little privacy, please?” I say, glaring at him.

He hikes up one shoulder but doesn’t make a move to leave.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You seem to forget you were riding my face just last weekend after you turned me into a glorified waste collector.”

I’m seething, but it’s not worth the battle. Giving him my back, I let my pants drop and lift my shirt over my head. My skin prickles with awareness, knowing he’s there watching my every motion.

When I turn back around, dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved sweater, his eyes are heated, and his jaw is clenched. I can’t help but let my eyes dip down to the front of his jeans, and there’s a definite bulge in his jeans that makes my mouth water. Fuck, we have to get out of here before I jump him and hate myself for it after.

“Let’s go already,” I grumble, shoving past him to get out of the closet.

He follows after me without a word. We walk out of my room and I make sure to lock my door before we move down the hallway and make our way out of the building. He leads me to the black Range Rover he drove first semester, and we don’t say a word as we slide in and he starts the engine.

Our stone-cold silence continues as he speeds out of the parking lot and away from campus.

Once we hit the freeway, I finally ask, “Where are we going?”

“I told you. I’m taking you to Liam.” His tone is clipped and cold.

“Okay, but where?” It should terrify me that he’s not being forthcoming about our destination. After all, he just said he’s capable of hurting me back in my room. Yet, like an idiot, I don’t feel an ounce of fear with him.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“His house, idiot,” he says in a bored tone.

Oh. “You could’ve just said that from the start,” I mumble.

“Yeah, well, you were being a huge bitch. Didn’t really make me feel like sharing.”

“You’re such a child.” I fold my arms and turn my face away from him to stare out the window. It’s well past dark, so I can’t see anything really, but even a black void is better than interacting with Saint when he’s pissed off.

Suddenly, his hand lands on my thigh. I let out a little yelp and turn to stare at him, wide-eyed.

“What’re you doing?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.

He doesn’t answer, and doesn’t look at me, but his fingers slide up to the leg hole in my shorts.

“Saint, I—”

He slips his hand beneath my clothes and skims down the front of my panties. I gasp and clench my thighs together.

“Spread them,” he orders.

My mind wants to scream at him to fuck off, but my body is pliant and obedient and my knees fall apart.

“Now, unbutton your shorts and slide them down. Panties too.”

My breathing is heavy as I hesitate. “But … the other cars—”

“No one can see,” he states in an even tone. He finally glances toward me, his brow raised expectantly. “Shorts.”

My fingers move to the button and zipper as if they have minds of their own. I’m trembling with excitement as I lift my butt and push my shorts and underwear down my thighs. As soon as my sex is exposed, he slides his fingers between my lips.

I let out a startled shout at the contact, but it doesn’t distract him as he begins to stroke me. This is crazy. I know this is. I shouldn’t be letting him do this, shouldn’t be enjoying it, but when his thumb rubs my clit and he slips a finger inside me, my mind goes blank. He pumps in and out of me in measured strokes, his eyes never leaving the road, and soon I’m writhing in my seat, desperate for release.

“I want you to scream when you come,” he says. “No one can hear you in here. Don’t hold back like you do in the dorms.”

He speeds up the rhythm of his hand, and before I fully comprehend my body’s response, I’m flying over the edge and crashing through my orgasm. Throwing my head back, I open my mouth and scream until my throat is sore, and Saint keeps his hand moving the entire time, dragging my release out to an almost painful degree.

“We’re here,” he says calmly as he pulls his fingers from my pussy. I watch in a dazed awe as he slips them into his mouth and sucks them clean. Glancing toward me, he says, “Better pull your shorts up now.”

I snap out of my lust-filled fog and scramble to yank my clothes back into place.

“What the fuck was that?” I whisper, gazing out the windows to make sure no one is around to see me as I get dressed again.

I look at Saint and he leans toward me, grabbing the back of my seat with one hand.

“Figured I’d take the edge off so you wouldn’t be tempted by inferior dick once we go inside.”

Rage fires through my blood. “You slimy shithead.”

He smirks, his eyes icy chips. “I’m not the one that just soaked my seat with pussy juice.”

I gasp, but he leans away from me and moves to open his door and get out. As I follow Saint from his car to Liam’s front door, I try to calm myself enough so that my cheeks aren’t the fiery red I know they are right now. I don’t want anyone to guess what we just did when we walk into the house. We make our way up the front steps, and I can hear the pulsing of loud music and the murmuring of voices coming from inside.

“Is Liam having a party?” I ask, baffled.

Saint nods as he opens the door. “Yep, so feel free to loosen up a little and actually have some fun, okay?” He steps aside to let me go in first.

I narrow my eyes at him, but step over the threshold into the shockingly crowded interior.

Holy shit. This might be the biggest party I’ve ever seen. It’s even bigger than Saint’s birthday. I scan the crowd, searching for Liam. Saint stands at my side silently for a second, but then points across the room.

“There’s the fucker.”

My eyes follow his finger and I release a sigh of relief when I spot Liam grinding on some girl I don’t recognize.

“Thank God,” I murmur. Having proof that he’s alive and well, I turn back to Saint. “All right, we can go.”

He doesn’t move though, and his eyes are no longer on me, but on something behind me. I glance over my shoulder and am surprised to see Rosalind hurrying toward us, a glazed look in her brown eyes and a red Solo cup of something that smells like vodka in one hand.

“Thank goodness,” she says in her melodic voice when she reaches us. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

She’s gazing up at Saint, and for a second, I feel totally invisible as they stare at each other.

“What?” Saint asks, his tone casual even as his shoulders are tensed.

“We need to talk,” she says. She turns to me with an apologetic smile, acknowledging my presence at last. “Sorry, Mallory, but do you mind if I borrow him for a moment?”

My gut reaction is to shout no, but why should I care if they talk?

Ignoring the churning sensation in my stomach, I nod. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Oh, thank you.” She looks relieved. Grabbing Saint’s hand, she begins to lead him away, and I feel a stab of something awful at the sight.

Not jealousy.

Never jealousy.

Shit, it’s jealousy, isn’t it?

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Saint snaps at me over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to do something stupid, like fuck his pretty ex because I’ve pissed him off one too many times tonight. Shaking my head, I try to shove away the thought, and when it doesn’t completely leave me, I decide I need a drink.

Making my way through the party toward the kitchen, I find a makeshift bar area set up on the island. There’s plenty of liquor and mixers for drinks, but I grew up knowing to never go for the open containers at a party. So, I dig out a can of beer from a cooler sitting on the floor and crack it open.