[BOOK2]
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lose her.
And losing Isla? That's not an option.
*******
Is...
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Theo pulls up in front of my dorm, killing the engine. He doesn't move to get out, doesn't rush me to leave. Just sits there, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other slipping into mine like he owns it. Like he owns me.
Which I kinda like actually.
His fingers trace slow, teasing circles against my palm, and my stomach flips, heat curling low in my belly.
"So, I'll be seeing you later?" His voice is smooth, confident—like he already knows the answer.
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes.
"Have you always been this smug, or is this a new personality trait?"
His lips curl into that devastating smirk, the one that used to annoy me—before I knew how good it felt against my skin.
"Oh, Isla," he murmurs, his thumb dragging over my wrist in a way that makes me shiver. "I've always been this way. You were just too busy pretending you weren't attracted to me to notice."
A rush of heat floods my face, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
"Attracted to you?" I scoff, feigning indifference. "That's a bold assumption."
His hand tightens around mine, pulling me closer until his breath ghosts over my lips.
"An assumption?" His voice drops, dark and teasing. "Tell me, baby—when I had you underneath me last night, was that also an assumption?"
My breath catches, and his smirk turns predatory.
"You know what?" I blurt, grasping for control I no longer have. "I think I liked you better before."
He chuckles, low and rough. "Liar."
Before I can come up with a half-decent retort, he crashes his mouth to mine.
The kiss is filthy—deep and all-consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine like he owns every inch of me. Like he's daring me to pretend I don't want this as much as he does. His hand slides up my neck, tilting my head the way he wants, fingers threading into my hair as he devours me.
By the time he pulls back, I'm breathless, my fingers curled in his shirt, holding on for dear life.
His thumb brushes my swollen bottom lip, and he grins, all smug, wicked satisfaction.
"Still want to pretend you don't like me?"
I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears. "I hate you."
His laughter is pure sin. "No, you don't."
He winks, tapping my chin before leaning back. "Be good, baby."
I glare at him, yanking open the door with shaky fingers. "I was good. You ruined me."
