Page 13 of Corrupt Me

Nothing ever got to Tristan, not that he showed. He had this shield about him that made him untouchable. In high school, Tristan had ruled our school. He was three years older than Preston and me, and even as freshmen, we knew no one screwed with Tristan or Preston, for that matter. And because I was Preston’s girlfriend, that circle of protection had always extended to me.

No one dared to look twice at me or corner me in the girls’ bathroom. Just the opposite. Girls lined up to be my friend for a chance to date Tristan or at least the opportunity to bang hisbrains out. It used to annoy the shit out of me, and just thinking about it, that irritation flared to life.

Why was I suddenly losing that protection? It didn’t make sense why Tristan suddenly changed the rules and made me an outsider. Since he’d gone off to college, things had been different. We’d hung out less and lost touch, but that was expected, and we hadn’t been super close before, so I thought nothing of it. I always noticed Tristan way more than he ever took notice of me.

Fidgeting under the table, I twisted and twined my fingers as my knee bounced. I hadn’t eaten much, and Anna noticed but kindly kept it to herself. She sensed something was up with me.

God, I couldn’t wait to get to college, away from both the Malone brothers. I’d have a fresh start. It would be good for me. I needed it after everything—to step away from the 30A. Perhaps this was all for the best. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to marry Preston. I loved him, but in truth, I wasn’tinlove with him. I might never have been, but when you dated someone for as long as we had, there was a comfort neither of us was ready to let go of.

I wasn’t entirely convinced Preston was in love with me either. He loved the idea of us, showing me off and having me on his arm when we went places, but beyond that…

I sucked in a breath at the realization I was a decoration for Preston’s arm.

Frown lines gathered on my forehead as I stared hard at my plate. Preston’s hand covering my knee under the table jolted me out of my head. He was used to me drifting away and understood I had wounds barely beginning to heal—a joke. For any healing to occur, I would have had to face what happened, and I wasn’t ready to do that.

Not yet.

With him gone, I would have to rely on Sam to keep me from spiraling, a scary thought.

I offered to clear the table to avoid the looks of concern and pity. As well as the questions I saw brimming in Anna’s worrisome eyes. Big mistake. Tristan cornered me in the kitchen, a stack of plates in his hands. I didn’t bother to glance up at him, a sea of anger and humiliation simmering under the surface of my skin.

He set the dishes into the sink and propped a hip on the counter, his body too close. I could feel the heat seeping off him and smell the combination of woodsy cologne and sea on his skin. He’d spent some time out on the beach, the color of his skin bronzed from the sun. Another day, that scent would have gone straight between my legs. Tonight, I refused to be seduced by his roguish grin and bedroom eyes, so I clamped my legs together, focusing on the rage rising within me, a safer bet. Never again would I trust Tristan. Never. That trust was broken. He had done that to me—to us. Not that there had been an us, but that was beside the point. I had been stupid enough to believe he was a friend.

“What?” I snapped when he only stared at me. I tried to keep my voice low. “What do you want from me, Tristan? Did you want me to make a spectacle at dinner and break up with your brother in front of your family?” My hand swept toward the door. “Humiliate him? Well, I won’t do it.”

Tristan’s face was a blank mask. I was getting no reaction from him, and I wondered what it would take. If I dropped my clothes and ran around the kitchen buck-ass naked singingI want to fuck you like an animal, would he so much as blink an eye? I doubted it.

Tristan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, studying me with a depth that made me feel as if I was nakedagain in his bed. “You’re too damn good for him. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, Ever.”

My stomach kicked a notch, and I clenched the counter behind me. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’m going to do your little dirty deed, but don’t expect any thank-yous from me. I never want to see your face again. If your parents hate me after this...” I despised that my voice chose that moment to give out on me.

“I’m doing you both a favor. And my parents won’t hate you. They couldn’t. I’m pretty damn sure they love you more than they love me.”

“That’s not saying much, is it?” I clipped out.

His brows lifted at the iciness in my voice as if he was surprised by it, and he took a step closer, sucking the air from the room. “It’s not like you to be hurtful.”

Facepalm. Am I being punked? Did he expect me to come at him with hugs and kisses? I was starting to wonder if Tristan was bipolar. The man gave me whiplash. “Another thing I have you to thank for,” I gritted.

He folded his muscular arms over the firmness of his chest. Tristan was ripped in all the right places, a fact I shouldn’t be aware of.

Tearing my gaze from his, I shoved past him, forgetting about the dishes. I had to get out of there or risk hyperventilating. There wasn’t enough air. Not under the glare of his piercing blue eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

He didn’t follow me out, and the irrational part of me was disappointed. Had I wanted him to chase me and make a scene in front of his parents? Force him to tell them what he’d done to me? But that would subject me to more humiliation I wasn’t willing to suffer. I was barely holding on to my sanity by a thread, and the night wasn’t over yet.

After I thankedBlaine and Anna for dinner and promised to keep in touch during college, Preston walked me to the car. He leaned in, nuzzling my neck as his hands found the sides of my hips, massaging lightly with his fingers. “Ev, can’t you stay the night? Just this last time? It’s going to be weeks before we see each other again.”

My butt pressed into the side of my car as I flattened my palms on his chest and gave a slight shove. “About that. Preston, we need to talk.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I didn’t expect it to go over very well, but the alternative was too much.

He dipped forward, cruising his lips along my jaw, clearly not deterred by my serious face or the cut on his lip that was still healing. I never did find out who decided to play hockey with his face, but I could guess. When he nipped at my bottom lip, I should have felt something other than mild annoyance at Preston’s advances. A flutter in my belly? A zing in my core? A warmth over my skin? Nope. None of the above. “We can talk after you kiss me goodnight,” he murmured.

I heaved a sigh. He wasn’t going to give up, and besides, what would one last kiss hurt? Tristan said nothing about not kissing his brother. I just had to break up with him. So, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I let Preston draw me into a kiss. Perhaps I was testing myself. How many times had Preston accused me of being cold or prude? Always in a teasing manner, but the accusations stuck with me, and now I wondered. Was it me or Preston? Was I that broken?

Where was the passion? The I-want-to-fuck-you-right-here-on-the-car blind lust? Did it even exist? Or was it something just for entertainment in movies and racy books? I wanted to believethat kind of desire was very real, and I wanted to believe Preston and I would have that someday instead of this lukewarm thing between us, comfortable and safe.

Okay, so Preston might be having more than lukewarm feelings and thoughts about me, which circled the problem back to me.

Preston slipped his tongue between my lips. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me?” he moaned as his fingers moved to cup my ass and squeeze. I had a pretty good idea, seeing as he ground his hips against mine. “Stay the night,” he whispered in my ear, taking my earlobe into his mouth. “I need you.”

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