Page 124 of Vicious Games

She doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way her eyes narrow, calculating. But thankfully, she doesn’t press for more information. At least, not tonight.

Instead, she turns with a stiff nod and disappears down the hall like a shadow.

“I’m so happy you both enjoyed yourselves. Though I must say your absence this Thanksgiving was felt. To some more than others.” Sister Agnes gives me a small, comforting pat on the arm before following Sister Margaretta.

I watch them leave as Darius bounds up the stairs, rushing to draw the Romano mansion and their gaming room before he forgets what they look like. I wish him goodnight, but he’s already gone, too excited to memorize the holiday with a drawing.

Not wanting to stick around in case Sister Margaretta returns with questions I’m unwilling to answer, I head to my room and lock myself inside. But once I’m on my own, in the solitude of my room, it hits me all at once—the quiet, the stillness, the emptiness around me.

I miss him. God, I just saw him. Spent almost two whole days with him. But still… I miss him. Not just the way he touches me. Not just the way his voice drops low when he says my name. I miss the way I feel safe around him.Seen.The way he looks at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m enough. Like I’m perfect even with all my jagged edges and baggage.

I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling, the shadows cast by the streetlamp outside crawling slowly along the walls.

I lie there and think about his lips pressed on my inner wrist. The way he didn’t kiss me, even when we both wanted it. The way he said he’d protect me, even from his own people.

The way Lucky looked at me before I left as if a piece of him was shattered.

Maybe that shouldn’t mean something. But it does. Maybe I shouldn’t want more. But I do. And maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t have fallen for him. But it’s clear to me now… that I already have.

Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough.

The small heels of my shoes echo down the tiled halls of Sacred Heart like war drums as I scan every passing face for the one person who has been haunting my dreams all weekend.

I slept like shit. Tossed and turned every night until I was half-sure I’d imagined every kiss, every caress, every longing look in the dark. But I didn’t.

They happened. But holding on to the memory of them no longer suffices. And now I need to see him. Like, needneed.

Not for safety. Not for reassurance. Not even for the high of his touch. No. I need to see him because my body feels wired for him, and it’s driving me insane.

I round the corner, and there he is, leaning against a locker as if he owned the hallway. He’s talking to someone—I don’t even clock who—because the moment our eyes meet, everything else fades out.

He grins. Lazy. A little cocky. All Lucky. And what do I do? I walk right up to him, grab his hand as if it were my own right, and tug him with me without saying a damn word. And he lets me.

“Oh? We’re doing the strong, silent type thing this morning, huh?” he teases, hurrying his pace to match mine. “You miss me that bad, Frankie?”

I don’t answer. Just keep walking until I find the utility closet two doors down from the science lab. I open it, shove him inside, and lock the door behind us.

It’s dark, the only light a thin, pale strip beneath the door. The air is sharp with bleach and disinfectant, but underneath it, I catch the warm, familiar scent of Lucky’s cologne.

“You definitely missed me,” he whispers, his voice dripping with amusement. But the second his eyes adjust to the dim lighting and land on me, the teasing vanishes. His cocky grin slips away as he takes in the rise and fall of my chest, my fists clenched at my sides just to keep from grabbing him, from pushing him against the wall and kissing his stupid, beautiful face.

As if Lucky is tuned into every thought in my head, he steps closer, his body brushing mine. “Fuck, I missed you, too,” he breathes out before yanking my head back by the hair and crashing his lips to mine. Hard. Hungry. As if he’s been starving for a taste of me and just got handed the feast.

I melt into him, letting his mouth consume mine, his hands gripping my hips, unable to decide whether to pull me closer or hold himself back before he devours me completely.

When I start to get lightheaded, I break away from our kiss, breathless, and whisper, “That’s not why I pulled you in here.”

“Oh?” he pants, licking his lips, his eyes fixed on my mouth as if he’d go crazy if he didn’t get another hit.

“I want to try something,” I tell him, placing my palms against his hard chest until his back is flush against the wall.

“Whatever you want.” His gaze darkens, his brows lifting just slightly. “This is your show.”

Lucky’s eyes go wide in surprise when I slowly drop to my knees, his Adam’s apple working double time when I look up at him, fingers trailing along the zipper of his pants with deliberate slowness. There’s a certain power in this moment as I watch every sarcastic comment, every smirk, every joke he’s ever had die on his lips.

He’s speechless. Good. He can’t be the only one of us who is unpredictable.

“I might not be good at this,” I say as I slowly pull at his belt buckle to loosen it. “But I want to try.”

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