Page 30 of The Pawn

Tanner is watching me, his gaze so warm where Blake's was ice cold, head cocked just slightly to the side as if he's studying me. "Watch out, Fire Girl. If you're not careful, I'll do exactly what you think you want."

"What's that?"

"Savage you." He pushes my hair back over my shoulder, surprisingly calloused fingers brushing against the side of my neck. My pulse jumps up to greet his touch. "Trust me when I say that you don't want that. You might talk the talk, Fire Girl, and you even know how to get a bitfreakywith pain and punishment, but when it comes to me..." He lowers his voice. "Well, let's just say this senator's son knows how to sin."

"And I don't?"

Stepping back, Tanner grins at me mockingly. "You're a pure as driven snow, Fire Girl."

I want to snap at him, to tell him off, even though it's true—shamefully, painfully true. There's nothing I want more in this world to touch and be touched, to press myself against someone and feel them lose control because I'mirresistibleto them. But I have to face the truth: I'm about as resistible as a dinner of steamed broccoli with a side of cauliflower. Anyone could take me, but no one will.

Which gives me all the more reason to get made over and change their minds so I can bring them to their knees. All of them—Tanner, Georgia, Veronica, Heather, and any of the others too. Even Blake's cruel, cold exterior would break if I looked like these other girls, with their beautiful hair and long, tanned legs.

"You'll see," I promise Tanner. "One day I'll prove you wrong."

"Prove me wrong right now." Casually, he flicks his fingers in the direction of the men's restroom to our left. "There's no one in there. Show me what you've got with that spitfire mouth of yours."

I sputter, "It's the men's room—"

"See?" Those eyebrows of his lift mockingly high, mouth curved in amusement. "Pure. As. Driven. Snow."

I don't know why, but I hate this more than Veronica's cruel words, Heather's forceful push, even Cole's overwrought threats. There's something about Tanner that vexes me just as much as I want him—and even more than that, hate myself for wanting him, because of what he did to the brother I used to have.

Some dark part of me, the same part that grabbed his wrist and forced it to the flame, wants to grab him right now and show him just exactly what I can do.

As if I know what that is.

"Brenna!" Before I can, a certain bubbly blonde head of hair sets a path in my direction, and I'm saved from myself. "Tricia texted me, she saved us a table—oh. Hello,George."

"Hello, psychotic bitch," Tanner says in a faux-happy voice. "You're friends with this one now? Fire Girl, I'm disappointed in you." He shakes his head and makes a tut-tut noise. "Here I thought you were different. Separate from the pack."

"Thought she wouldn't have friends, huh?" Chrissy tugs me over towards her, like a dog jerking on one end of a rope. "Well, think again. What was this asshole doing to you, anyway, Brenna? Because let me tell you, he's a real piece of work."

Tanner shoots Chrissy the middle finger, then glances over at me. "I'm out of here. I see my red bombshell in the distance, and she's sure to stab you to death if she spots you in my vicinity. Just don't forget," he leans in close to me even as Chrissy stiffens and tries to pull me away, "I'll be back to start our little game again. It's up to you which way we play: naughty or nice. I know which I'm in favor of."

Then he steps smoothly away from me, towards a distant figure that I spot as Georgia. She hasn't seen me yet, I don't think—if she had, her eyes would be shooting laser beams in my direction.

Tanner's words have given me something to think about, even though I know that he's just playing a game. He doesn't want me; he just wants to humiliate me. If hedidget me in the men's restroom, it wouldn't be for a makeout session or something more. He'd just steal my panties and show them to everyone or get me to expose myself on video and blackmail me, like Amanda Todd's bullies did to her.

He doesn't really want me. Not the way I am now.

But he will when I'm done wracking up charges on his girl's black card.

"Are you okay? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

I shake my head, even though my legs are half jello and my palm is flaring with pain. "No, nothing like that. He's all talk. I mean what is he gonna do, assault me in front of half the student body?"

"Yeah. Besides, I'm sure Cole has already forgotten his petty little grudge from yesterday," Chrissy says, though she doesn't sound convinced. "I mean, all you did was help snag my purse out of a tree."

"Right."

"I mean, how long can he hate you for that?"

"He's hated you for four years," I remind her as we head towards the small round table Tricia saved for us. "So we know he has a long memory. Though I have no idea how far he'll take it—it's not like he can do anything in front of the administration. Right?"

Tricia asks, "Are we talking about the fact that Brenna crossed Cole Masterson?" I frown at her. "Yeah, I heard. Your name was onthe listlast night. Chrissy's got bumped off to put you on there."

I blink at her. "The list?"

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