Page 66 of Wreck Me

I rolled my eyes at the bullshit and Sebastian thinking he had any right to be pissed about that kiss. I pulled my phone out and scrolled to my contacts, telling Damien, “Give me your number and we’ll figure out the details.”

As he started to reel off the number, I’d only typed two digits in when Sebastian lurched across the table and snatched my phone from my hand.

“What the—”

“You don’t need his number. You’ll let me know and I’ll relay it to him.”

“That’s ridiculous, I can just—”

“Non-negotiable.”

Before I could argue further, or more like, lay into him for daring to give me an order, he fisted his hand in Damien’s hoodie and jerked him down to him.

He whispered something at his ear that had Damien stiffening.

When he released him, Damien’s eyes narrowed, but he muttered, “Fine.” Then he smiled at me without a word and then took off back through the café.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded.

“You don’t want him having your number, or vice-versa.”

“And why is that?”

“Just trust me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s hard to do when you don’t answer my questions and go the whole cryptic route all too often instead.”

“You’ve gotta give me an inch first, before you can be demanding a mile from me.”

I blew out a breath, then finished off my sandwich, and he did the same, the two of us staring each other down the entire time.

When I was finished, I took my sweet time sipping at my coffee, making him wait for my answer, before I finally said, “I’d like your help with that design.”

He smiled. “There. You can compromise. Good girl.”

“Watch it. I’m not your good girl.”

“Would you prefer I refer to you as my filthy little whore.”

I sucked in a breath, him invoking those words sending a flash of dirty memories slamming into me. “No,” I somehow managed to answer, albeit slightly unsteadily.

He chuckled, then thankfully pulled out the paper he’d stolen and placed it down in front of us. He moved his chair much closer, adjacent to mine, so that his shoulder was rubbing against mine and I could feel the heat from him.

I blinked past it and fought to focus on the work at hand as he snatched up my pencil and demonstrated where I’d gone wrong, the space I’d misused, and all that.

He was good, I’d give him that.

The ease with which he was able to fix the mess I’d made and to teach me at the same time wasn’t just him being a year ahead of me, it was indicative of him being some sort of genius prodigy. And the passion coming through as he talked about it all was blazingly bright, making me smile.

Twenty minutes went by until he passed it over to me and had me follow what he’d taught me. The way he’d explained it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been when it had been communicated in class, and I was actually able to get it down pat.

“Perfect,” he complimented, when I was done. “You just needed a little more guidance. You could’ve gotten it from the other students in your class, but you’re not down with the collaborative effort thing. It put you at a disadvantage here.”

Yeah, I was getting that.

“No matter, I’m here to serve until you can get over that.”

I rolled my eyes. “How can you be so nice and infuriating at the same time?”

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