Eden

“Not so fast.” He gri

Before I could process what he meant, he scooped me up into his arms and walked me to the bed. I let out a yelp as he tossed me onto the mattress, then grabbed my ankles to pull me to the edge.

“Saint, what—”

He didn’t say a word, though, as he undid my uniform skirt and yanked it down and off my legs. My underwear followed suit, and it became crystal clear what his intentions were when he dropped to his knees in front of me and traced his tongue along the inside of my thigh.

Sex. The bastard was thinking about sex after he and his best frenemy hid a body.

“Wait—” I gasped, my fingers closing around a handful of blond hair to hold him back as he moved his head between my legs.

He paused and glanced up at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

“Don’t I deserve a reward for my terrible deeds?”

“Now?” I squeaked. “After—”

“Don’t think of that fucker,” he said savagely. “He’s taken up enough space in your head. The only one you’re allowed to think of is me.”

I considered resisting. I really did, but then he touched me, circling his fingertips over my clit. My entire body pulsed, my shattered nerves blurring.

To my horror, I realized that I wanted this.

I wanted his face buried between my legs and his lips and tongue driving me wild. I wanted to grip his hair tight and grind against him.

Tonight, it wasn’t worth fighting my true desires.

I changed the position of my hand so I was no longer pushing him away but urging him against me.

“Fine,” I hissed, fury lacing my voice even though I was already wet and ready for him. “Fine.”

His grin widened. My thighs fell wide. And when his lips pressed against my folds, I let out a strangled little cry that left him laughing before his tongue darted out to tease me.

This was good. So good. How was it always so good? His finger swirled around my entrance before he pushed it inside, then slipped a second one in without hesitation. His tongue lapped greedily at my clit as he pumped his fingers in and out. I writhed on his bed, tight desperation forming in my belly.

“I need to come,” I gasped.

“Yeah, I knew you were full of shit,” he murmured between sweeps of his tongue.

Gripping his head in both my hands, I undulated my hips, grinding hard against his face. He released a low groan of approval, yanking his fingers free and licking me from crack to clit as he gripped my thighs in an almost painful hold. I didn’t care, though. All that mattered in that moment was the friction between my legs.

When my climax ripped through me at last, it was a tidal wave that swept over me from head to toe. I spasmed and clenched my thighs around his head, but he didn’t let up, and before I could stop him, he sent me spiraling into another orgasm that made me whimper and buck against his face.

Several moments later, he relented, and I began my descent back down to earth, gasping and panting for breath. I was still trembling when he stood and gazed down at me, his chin shiny and a smug expression tugging at his features.

“I’ll never get enough of the way you taste, Ellis,” he said, licking his lips. Bending over me, he pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of my head. “Even if I am starting to question if I’ll be next on your world murder tour.”

I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. “Get the fuck away from me, Saint.” But I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding down toward the front of his jeans where there was a sizeable budge that told me he wasn’t quite satisfied after all. His eyes followed mine, and he chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that myself.” He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it hesitantly and he pulled me to my feet before yanking me against him again. His lips brush my ear as he murmured, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget your place.”

My heart raced as he let me go, and I stumbled around to collect my clothes, pulling my skirt on quickly, knowing I needed to get out of his presence before I did something I’d regret.

When I moved toward the door, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Go stroke your own dick, fucker, because I’m done.”

“I’m walking you back,” he said.

I glanced back at him and shook my head. “No, I—”

“I’ll walk you back,” he repeated, his voice hard, like there was no room for argument, so I didn’t bother.

Even with Jon Eric definitely gone, it wasn’t like I felt safe walking across campus alone right now anyway. For all I knew, Ghost was hiding behind a building, ready to toss another body in my path.

So, I silently nodded and accepted Saint’s escort, and we left his room together in total, heavy silence.

I shook my head to banish the memory, but my sex is already alive and throbbing after thinking of what Saint did to me just hours ago.

Still, I’m not eager to see him again anytime soon. He did, after all, dispose of a dead body for me, and I’m just not ready to deal with that fact. I don’t bother to wonder why he did it, though. I think I’m making peace with the fact that I’ll never understand Saint.

Not really.

Returning my attention to the task at hand, I continue ripping through my room like a hurricane. Clothes are strewn across the floor, and any furniture not nailed down is upended or sitting at weird, inconvenient angles. I glance up at the ceiling, but it’s solid. No weird chalky tiles to hide things in.

Still, I know there has to be something here. How else could Ghost show up whenever I pop in, perfectly timed? How could he and Nora know such specific, intimate things about my life?

I’m either bugged, or they’ve got someone spying on me, and I refuse to even entertain the thought that Loni or Henry—the only people I spend time with besides Saint and occasionally Liam—would betray me like that.

“Where are you, you little piece of shit?” I hiss, throwing open the drawers of my dresser. I dump their contents and pat down the insides but find nothing.

I release a growl of frustration and sit back on my haunches for a moment, thinking of any other places a device could be hidden. My attention wanders up to the mirror over my dresser. I ignore how pale my face is and my disheveled brown hair and how there are deep circles beneath my blue eyes because it’s not my shitty appearance that I’m interested in but the mirror’s frame. There are intricate designs carved into the wood, deep nooks and crevices that could potentially hide something—if it were small enough.

Slowly, I push to my feet and start ru

There.

It takes a little bit of digging, but I manage to pull out a tiny camera that’s the size of the buttons on my uniform shirts.

I stare at it, a part of me unable to believe my paranoia is justified.

Ghost wasn’t lying—they really have been spying on me. Watching my every move and invading my privacy in the most horrific way. My cheeks heat with fury as I think about all the things they must have seen. My conversations with Loni and Henry. My phone calls with Carley. Every time Saint was inside my room. Inside of me.

Nausea pitches my stomach at that thought.

Did they watch us together? How long has this thing been in here?