Page 53 of The Pawn

"Delighted to show you," he says, pressing his fingers against my lower back. "To Carthage we go."

He takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd. The other students note our passing. I can see the scene in their eyes: the little scholarship girl, all dolled up like she thinks she's something special, holding hands with a senator's son.

Murmurs follow us. A thrill of anticipation goes through me at the thought of Georgia's face when she finds out I snagged Tanner from her.

It doesn't matter how long it lasts. Doesn't matter if he's just playing games. She'll still have to hear about him pickingmeoverher.That'll make any fallout, every consequence, worthwhile. He can do whatever he wants to me as long as he does it with his desire plain on his face, written in the lines of his body.

As Tanner brings me through the side doors of Carthrage library, smirk on his face, a little part of me whispers that I'm betraying Silas. But the bigger, stronger part insists: I need this. And I'll get my revenge on him in my own way, by kicking him to the curb with blue balls—just as soon as I've gotten what I want.

"This way." Tanner leads me to a vacated part of the stacks, where the dust is thick and the lights are low. "No one reads these old translated French tomes anymore."

He whirls me around and pushes me up against the tall, sturdy wooden bookshelves. I tilt my chin up towards him, looking into his mischievous eyes. "Show me you want me."

"Oh, I want you, Fire Girl."

Pushing his hips forward, he makes it clear what he wants with the outline of his arousal against my thigh. His fingers skim beneath the hem of my skirt, pressing between the heat of my thighs, teasing and alive.

I tilt my hips towards him.

His lips descend on me in a kiss that's everything I ever wanted.

It's hungry.

It's alive.

It's bitter.

And it tastes like revenge.

To be touched. To be desired. It's everything I've dreamed of and more. Warm desire blossoms inside me, softer than the fire of the rage but just as hungry. My hungry fingers splay on the planes of Tanner's body, feeling his taut muscles beneath his thin designer T-shirt.

He tastes like praline ice cream and something dark and bitter—alcohol, I think. As his mouth opens up and claims mine, as his fingers move up between my thighs and towards my apex, I find myself thinking of the thousands of girls who would kill to be right here, right now.

So much of my life here at Coleridge has been fake. But there's no faking the hungry way Tanner pushes me hard against the books, uncaring of the dust our bodies stir. There's no faking his hand that moves beneath my shirt and thumbs the underwire of his bra. And there'sdefinitelyno faking the hardening of his length.

Desire pulses and pools between my thighs, making me moan as his clever fingers brush against the edge of my underwear. I send a little prayer of thanks skyward that I bought brand new lingerie with Georgia's credit card, so his touch finds lace instead of worn cotton.

"Fuck." Breaking off the kiss, he pants against my mouth, but his hands don't leave my skin. If anything they grow more curious, more exploratory, his left hand slipping beneath my bra and touching skin, the right stirring warmth down below as his thumb rubs me through expensive lace. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're too inexperienced."

I push down on his fingers, enjoying the shadows his lashes cast on his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed. It's even better when his mouth opens in a soundless groan of desire.

"Doesthatfeel inexperienced?"

"Pure as driven snow," he reminds me, though he doesn't move either one of his hands. "Whatever makeover you got, it made you look completely different. But you're still Fire Girl. You're fresh meat, and you don't know what you're getting into. I don't take advantage. Unlike—"

He hesitates. I grab his wrist and push his hand up beneath my bra, wanting to press him as far as I dare before I leave him here, alone and aroused without an outlet.

"Unlike?"

"Never mind." His voice is husky, his eyes looking down at my chest as my breath heaves in and I press myself against him. "I'm no saint. Let's sin together."

We do just that. He kisses me until all the breath has left my body. Uses his fingers to coax me to a point of arousal that I've never felt before. Finds the clasp of my bra and fumbles with it, his hips pressed against me, as I boldly dare to unzip his jeans and put my curious fingers beneath them.

I don't know how far I'll take this before I stop it.

It's hard to remember my plans for revenge with his tongue in my mouth and his thumb against my clit.

My thighs are shaking and trembling. My hips canting forward towards him. Heat has gathered in my body, and it's growing into a fire that might burn us both.

---