He sits back up, tapping the stylus against one of his lip studs.
My body aches when I look at him, even as I’m swamped with guilt.
“You’re doing it again,” Chas warns me, pointing at me with the stylus. “You’re drowning in your own thoughts. Stop it. Stop thinking about how pissed off he’s going to be with us and think more about how we can get him back here so that he can be pissed off at us.”
“It feels like you’re just trying to get me into bed,” I whisper back, and Chasm offers up a naughty smirk in response.
“What can I say? I’m addicted now. Apparently, I’m as much of a manwhore as I always pretended to be.” He puts a hand to his chest, and even though his expression is cocky, it’s tainted with heavy melancholy. “I’m not trying to pressure you,” he adds, face softening slightly. “If you don’t—”
“But I do,” I breathe, pushing my iPad away from me. When I close my eyes, I can see the shapes of the Japanese alphabet, the hiragana and katakana swirling around with a handful of basic kanji thrown in. I’ll ace this last final, that’s for sure. Then he can teach me Korean, and he won’t be able to have special, secret conversations with Parrish anymore.
My throat gets tight again, but I toss lime-green hair over my shoulder with a nonchalant flick of the wrist.
“I do. If we’d just, like, hooked up on our own, before all of this, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I full on cringe, looking askance at Maxx’s laptop. At his phone lying on the table beside it. On my Tess-phone resting next to my elbow. My Maxine-phone hidden in the pocket of my sweats. “Shit.”
“Fuck,” Chasm agrees, and then he’s standing up from his chair and tossing his stylus onto the table. “Now we sort of have to do this.” He gives me a look and another half-smile. “I’ll go get changed. Choose your bathing suit wisely.”
He disappears out of the dining room and up the stairs as I struggle internally and then curse my big, fat mouth, leaving the rest of the devices behind and taking only my phone along for the ride.
As soon as I get into my room, I close the door and lean my back against it. I shut my eyes for a second in an attempt to wrangle my emotions. Having sex with Chasm might fulfill an order, but it doesn’t bring us any closer to Parrish.
I can’t do it.
Not right now.
I open my door and head across the hall, not bothering to knock before I open Parrish’s door and slip inside. Chasm has just dropped his pants and underwear to the floor. I turn around to catch a nice, long glimpse of his naked body.
It’s still light outside, so there’s plenty to see by as I gape at him, my eyes tracing the ink on his chest and arms, his legs, his feet. His cock is … well, it’s very big, and very well-shaped, and very distracting.
“Couldn’t wait that long?” he offers up, like it’s a joke. But then our eyes meet, and there’s nothing at all funny about this. My hand reaches back to push the lock on the doorknob in, and I find myself crossing the room like I’m trapped in a hazy spell, one crafted of lust and need and the aching burn of guilt.
My arms twine around Chasm’s neck while his hands find my waist.
He crushes his libidinious lips against mine, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and gathering me close. His hot fingers knead my hips, digging into my pelvic bone and making me moan in a low, husky voice.
We start to move toward the bed together when it occurs to me that this is Parrish’s room. His bed. The bed where we both lost our virginities to one another. I can’t do that to him. I won’t.
“Chasm,” I start, pulling back slightly. Just in time, actually, for the sound of a clicking lock to slam into my skull like a knife. I whirl around, but it’s too late. The door is swinging inward and there’s Kimber.
Fucking Kimber.
Kimber, who already hates me. Kimber, who’s in love with Chasm. Kimber, who can very easily contribute to the living hell my life at Whitehall has become.
“Oh my god,” she chokes out, her eyes on Chasm’s dick rather than my face. He very quickly snatches his black joggers from the floor, yanking them on as Kimber’s raven-black eyes swing my way. “You.”
Her accusation reminds me once again of Parrish, that first night when I confronted him in the living room.
“How dare you?” she snarls at me, using the doorjamb to rise to her feet. “How fucking dare you?!”
