Page 97 of You Were Never Not Mine

“I’m assuming you haven’t discussed this with Sinclair?” Tim asks.

I drop my arms to my sides, frustrated. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

Tim has the audacity to laugh, the fucker. “Since you two aren’t actually together, I consider her open game, but I appreciate the warning. See you later.”

He walks away and I let him go, fuming. The balls on this guy. Who the hell does he think he is?

Open game? Tim believesmySinclair is open game tohim? Absolutely fucking not. I stride through the house, throwing open the front door and making my way outside, ignoring everyone. I’m headed straight for Sinclair’s dorm room before Tim can beat me. The little motherfucker. He wants to play with fire?

I’m going to light him with kerosene and watch him burn.

Chapter Forty-Three

SINCLAIR

I’m sitting on my bed in my dorm room alone, scrolling through social media, when there’s a loud, incessant pounding on my door, startling me so badly I drop my phone on the floor.

Bending over, I grab it, irritated when the pounding starts back up again. I’m trying to decompress after taking a huge test that I’ve been studying for the last two days straight and I really don’t need this hassle right now.

I stomp over to the door and throw it open, startled when I see it’s August turning to face me, an agonized expression on his beautiful face. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at me for a beat before he looks beyond my shoulder. Like he thinks someone else is in the room with me.

Hmm.

I lean against the edge of the door, waiting for him to say or do something first. His gaze lands on my face once more, lingering for only a second before letting it roam all over me, lingering on all the parts he likes best. My skin warms in response.

“I’ve missed you” is the first thing he says and my heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. This man means it.

“Hi. I’ve missed you too.” I tilt my head to the side, noting the way his fingers flex. How they grip into a fist over and over, as if he’s trying to gain some control over himself and failing miserably. “Everything okay?”

“No. No, it’s not okay.” He pushes past me and enters my dorm room without asking, turning to face me once I shut the door. “How can you act so—normal?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t move. It’s like he doesn’t trust himself. “Being in your presence, all I can think about is…touching you.”

My stomach flutters again. So does the spot between my legs. “Then touch me, August.”

He doesn’t move. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I get my hands on you, and I don’t know what might happen.”

The promise in his deep voice lights up everything inside me and I lock my knees to keep my legs from shaking in anticipation. “I’m not scared.”

My words are like a dare because he charges toward me, his hands landing on my waist, gripping me tight. Without hesitation he tugs me into him, our bodies colliding and I glance up to find his head descending, his mouth landing on mine in the sweetest, most delicious kiss I’ve ever experienced.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he repeats, murmuring against my lips, his tongue darting out for a lick. “So fucking much.”

“It’s only been two days,” I remind him, distracted by the path his hands are taking up my sides. The assured stroke of his tongue.

“Two days too long.” He delivers a tongue-filled kiss, making me groan. Making me whimper. When it’s finally over, I stare at his face in a daze, overcome. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I already did.” Rising up on tiptoes, I brush my lips against his, pulling away before he can kiss me senseless. “I missed you, August.”

The relief in his eyes is a little shocking. Was he that worried?

“How did your test go?”

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