Page 41 of Heart of Thorns

“I’m looking forward to this,” I say, even though I shouldn’t.

We’re so close, my lips barely brush hers when I speak. Close enough to be a kiss, but… not. So instead, I bring her hand up between us and press my lips to her knuckles, and the rednessthat blooms on her cheeks is so worth the reaming I’m about to get from my coach.

Three hours later, I walk into the familiar pub. It’s got a good selection of food, plus cheap margaritas on Thursdays. And, as a bonus, they rarely check IDs. They won’t do anything crazy, like serve someone who could pass for a high schooler.

But everyone else? Free passes, for the most part.

I find Briar already at a booth in the back and slide in across from her.

“Briar,” I greet her. My gaze roves over her.

She’s changed since earlier. Or maybe I just didn’t notice what was under her black jacket. Her black sweater—not sure this girl ever wears color—dips into a low V-neck, finally giving me a peek at her cleavage. Her long, dark hair is loose around her shoulders. It has a bit of a wave to it, and even as I watch, she runs her fingers through it.

The sweater seems soft, sure, but her hair looks grab-able.

Nothing better to tug on during sex, directing her head back so I can kiss her as I fuck her from behind…

“Cassius,” she replies.

I choke. The sex thoughts vanish. “Don’t call me that.”

“Shouldn’t your girlfriend call you by your first name?” She puts one elbow on the table and rests her chin on her fist. “I thought that was the kind of intimacy we were going for.”

“Everyone calls me Thorne,” I say, dismissing it without consideration. I don’t even know how she discovered my first name, but I think that her throwing aroundCassiusis an automatic flag on the field.

That’s why we’re here. To set someground rules.

The texts I had waiting on my phone when Coach finally released us—yeah, I was right, we had to do some extra conditioning sprints because of mylack of focus—made me smile.

Then frown.

First, a waving emoji followed by the frowning cat. Fitting.

Then, a request to meet up for saidrules.

She’s right, though. They’ll keep us straight when all else fails.

“Cassius Remington Thorne the Third,” she says under her breath. She leans back and crosses her arms, a smirk gracing her lips. “It has a certainrichring to it.”

I scowl. “Stop.”

“What?”

“You wanted ground rules? That’s the first one. Don’t insinuate that you’re interested in my money, and definitely don’t use my first name in public.”

Briar raises an eyebrow. “What if I am interested in your money? What if you picked a gold digger?”

I stare at her.

Truth? It’s uncomfortably close to all the other girls my parents have set up with me. They come from money, so they’re not wide-eyed about the size of the trust fund, or my future inheritance, but they have expectations.

That, ultimately, is probably worse.

But it’s a sore subject all the way around. Most of the school had heard of my last name before I even started playing football here. Money means power, and power is eye-catching. My family has wielded power like that for over a century.

There’s a very real possibility that Briar accepted my proposal because of that, and it sits uncomfortably on my shoulders. I didn’t think that of her.

Should I have?

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