Page 17 of Obsessed with my Temptation

“You’re still trapping me against a sink, and don’t think I don’t feel your hard dick half an inch away from mine.”

He was right, of course. And his bluntness, this direct version of Scott I would have never expected, didn’t help.

There was an awareness of each other that we shared, the air was thick and thin at once between us, making it seem like there wasn’t enough oxygen for each other to breathe, like there was a physical force pulling me to him.

I forced myself back.

“It’s just situational,” I said, full of bullshit. “Nothing’s going to happen. You’re not even my type.”

Lies.

Scott looked at me, blond eyebrows raised, an adorable look of disbelief on his face like the cocky asshole he was, because ofcoursehe thought he was everyone’s type. He didn’t need to say it for me to hear it.

I wanted to shut up that pretty mouth, tell him what was what—but there were more clients coming for cupcakes.

And, lo and behold, it was two familiar faces.

“I know you told me three times yesterday, but I still didn’t quite believe you,” an upcoming guy with dark, curly locks said.

It was one of Scott’s friends—Eliot, I thought his name was. The other guy beside him, taller with short dark hair and startling green eyes, was the one who’d been with Scott last Saturday night at the bar.

I’d seen Scott hang out with these two more times than I could count. It had surprised me at first—neither of them was popular guy material. Usually, popular guys hung out with the cool-guy crowd, keeping mostly to themselves. It had made a hint of curiosity spark inside me.

Especially when I’d started noticing that it was only with them that he ever laughed genuinely.

Open-mouthed and crinkly-eyed.

“Well, you’ll have to believe it now,” Scott said wryly, coming to stand beside me at the counter, and trying to pretend like nothing funny had been going on. “Fancy a cupcake for charity?”

“I’ll take three of those chocolate ones,” Eliot said, even as he watched me warily.

“Someone has a sweet tooth,” I said, feeling my lips rise.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “They’re not all for me.”

“Oh, does that mean there’s one for me?” I asked, knowing full well there wasn’t.

“Is that a come-on?” Eliot asked, bristling. “I have a boyfriend.”

I felt Scott tense up beside me, but I just laughed. “No worries, little guy, I’m not looking for trouble with Andrews.”

Jonathan Andrews, Eliot’s boyfriend, was a senior like me, and from what I knew, he was a pretty decent guy. He was popular and a straight-A student like mister Prince beside me, but there was something honest about him—a layer of bluntness that most good boys didn’t have that made me respect him just a little.

“Did you just call melittle?” Eliot’s eyes lit up with indignation. “Scott, punch him for me.”

“I’m not punching a boxer, El,” Scott said, clearing his throat and preparing the order.

“Well, you should.”

Eliot wasn’tlittle. He was under six feet, still kinda tall, but standing beside his friend—who was currently watching me very closely, making me feel like he was a spy or something trying to suss me out—and standingdownfrom where Scott and I were in our elevated position, he was like a little spitfire.

Which was the impression he’d given me anyways, looking from afar.

I didn’t need to mention it wasn’thimI’d been really looking at, though.

“Any for you, Ant?”

Antony.That was the other guy’s name.

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