Page 104 of Corrupt Me

How did my orgasm get better with him?

Breathing heavily, I smiled, staring at the man underneath me. “What happened to the shower first?”

Our eyes locked, and a slow smile took over his face. “I couldn’t wait.”

I grinned in return. “Obviously.”

“As much as I would love to stay inside you, I estimate we got less than two minutes before security shows up to check on the elevator.”

“Tristan,” I shrieked, rolling my eyes as I climbed off him, searching the floor for my clothes. I hated to admit I’d utterly forgotten where we were.

He tugged on his jeans, leaving the zipper and button undone. “I didn’t hear you complain. In fact, it seemed as if you rather enjoyed yourself.”

I slipped my shirt over my head as the elevator dinged. The doors parted, and I came face-to-face with a confused redhead. Her eyes moved from Tristan to me as I put one arm into a sleeve and then the other, giving her a flash of my twisted bra and bare stomach. It was so fucking obvious what I’d been doing in the elevator with Tristan. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I hurriedly adjusted my shirt, but the confused expression on the girl’s face halted my awkwardness. Her flustered state turned to shock and into what I thought was anger.

At me.

What the hell?

Who is this girl?

And what is she doing on my dorm floor?

There were only three bedrooms, and they were taken by Sam, Tristan, and me.

Then it clicked. She was the girl I’d seen with Tristan when I’d moved into Thorn Hall. He’d been seeing her or at the very least sleeping with her.

Tristan forked a hand through his very messily dark hair as he stepped out of the elevator. “Morgan?”

“Let me guess. This is her,” the redhead sneered, pinning me with stink eyes.

All traces of humor left Tristan’s face. His lips turned into a deep scowl, and those frown lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes turned cold. “She isn’t your concern. What are you doing here?” he demanded.

I caught the flash of hurt in her expression before she lifted her chin, firming it with bitter resolve. “Leaving,” she snapped at Tristan before her fiery glare landed on me. “He’s all yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back, coming to stand at Tristan’s side. It could have come off as possessive, but I hadn’t meant it to be, at least not consciously because the truth was, seeing her sparked ribbons of jealousy within me.

Her red lips curled in a cruel smile. “It means his dick only gets hard if I wear a pretty blonde wig and let him call me Shortcake.” A satisfying gleam sparkled in the center of her bright green eyes when I flinched at her words. “I see that rings a bell. We can both assume who he fantasizes about.”

Tristan’s brows furrowed, but other than annoyance, he didn’t seem bothered by her scorn. “Morgan, desperate doesn’t look good on you.”

She shook her red hair, fingers clenching at her sides like she was restraining herself from slapping him. “Fuck off, Malone.”

As the elevator door closed, taking Morgan with it, I glanced at Tristan. The expression on his face was fucking priceless, and I couldn’t stop the giggle from coming out of me.

He smiled. “It was over weeks ago,” he explained. “Not that there was anything really between us.”

My back hit the wall, needing it to keep me upright, or I’d crumble to the floor in hysterics. “Clearly,” I mocked. I believed in Tristan’s mind it had been fleeting, but for Morgan, she had wanted to sink her claws into him as so many had before her. Trap the infamous Malone into a relationship. “Did you really make her wear a wig?” I asked, clutching my stomach as the laughter slowly died.

He cleared his throat, threading his fingers through his hair. “Morgan likes to exaggerate.”

I smacked him on the chest. “Tristan, you didn’t.”

The idiot just shrugged, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to his room. “I can’t help that I know what I like.”

What was it about the situation I found funny? I blamed my silliness on lack of sleep and trauma. The last twenty-four hours were catching up to me, but fuck me, I’d needed a laugh. I just hadn’t expected it to because of one of Tristan’s past lovers.

My lips hurt from smiling…among other things. I imagined after my body had a chance to relax I would feel the aches and pains of Angelo’s abuse, something I didn’t want to dwell on, not after what I’d shared with Tristan. I shook the thoughts from my head as he closed the door softly, locking us into the sanctuary of his room. I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the familiar space and the comforting scent that was entirely Tristan. The rumpled, unmade bed. The discarded clothes tossed over his desk. It was all him.

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