Page 51 of Wicked Games

But, yeah, I totally know.

I follow Riley to a table in the far corner. It’s probably reserved for losers and outcasts, but isn’t that exactly what we are?

Yes. It doesn’t work, because Caleb drops down into the chair next to mine almost before I can take my own seat.

“Margo,” Caleb greets me. He reaches out and runs his hand down my arm, lifting my hand. He pushes my sleeve up to expose my bare wrist. His fingers are cold, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in his expression.

Goosebumps break out along my arms and back.

Disappointment flashes across his face, then his perfect mask is back in place. How he slides it on so precisely reminds me of the masquerade ball. The cool gold against my skin.

“Come with me,” he says.

“I’m hungry.” I cross my arms.

He raises an eyebrow, but he motions for me to proceed.

With him… watching?

He puts his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his fist. In no hurry to move, then, I scowl and face forward. I take the sandwich and mini bag of chips out of the brown paper bag, followed by a Ziplock of baby carrots and cucumber, then a tiny tub of hummus.

My stomach growls.

Caleb reaches out and opens the bag of chips. Before I can scowl at him, he sets the open bag on the table, facing me.

It would be nice if I didn’t know he was actually a demon.

I take a bite of my sandwich. Then another. While CalebandRiley stare at me. Finally, she eats, too, which makes it a little less weird.

His gaze burns.

When everything is polished off, and I’m no longer starving to the point of stomach cramps, he takes my hand and drags me out of my chair. Down the hall, then another. Until we reach the locker rooms.

I dig my heels in. “I’m not going in there.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s an unstoppable force.

And I end up in the locker room.

Not a huge surprise, Margo.

We pass the rows of showers on the left, but he doesn’t stop at any of them. They’re too exposed for what I think he has planned.

Wait a second…

“Why don’t they have curtains?”

“Guys would rip them down to be funny. The school finally stopped investing in them.” He glances back at me. “I don’t really want to talk about shower curtains.”

Right.

I know what this is about, and butterflies flutter in my chest. At the last row of lockers on our right, he pushes me against them and drops to his knees.

One minute he’s looking up at me, and the next…

His head is under my skirt.

He pulls my panties aside, sliding a finger inside me without warning. I buck my hips, the sensation a shock. And also… a bit of pleasure. He reaches up and puts a hand on my abdomen, forcing me harder against the lockers.

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