Page 50 of The Prodigal

“Tsk. Tsk, 101. That’s not how a partnership works.”

You know what? Maybe I’ll just sayfuck Albrechtand go back to campus. Boring-ass finger painting, or whatever they teach, has to be better than spending one more second with Eden.

“You keep forgetting, Eve, we’re not partners.”

“We are.” She drops one hand and opens the container containing a chicken sandwich. “Now, eat,partner. I won’t tell you again.”

And because she has a fucking death wish, she snatches the cigarette from my lips and tosses it behind her.

“You’re getting brave, love. Don’t let my tolerance confuse you.”

With nerves of steel, she eases back onto her ass and winks. “Don’t threaten me, 101. You might find I can fight dirtier than you.”

I ate the fucking sandwich. It was dry and tasted like day-old onion rings, but I ate it.

Not because she demanded I did, but because I was tired of fucking talking to her.

“The shower is all yours,” she says, her slick skin glistening under the dim lighting in the motel room we are fuckingsharing. As if that isn’t bad enough, she’s practically naked.

“Where’re your fucking clothes?”

The steam billows out from the small bathroom as she approaches me, wearing nothing but a towel. “Right where Ifuckingleft them.”

I grab her and not delicately. “What did I tell you about using that word around me?”

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “I have a theory.”

“And I have a boner. No one fucking cares.”

I don’t even give her the courtesy of looking up from her tits pillowing out from the edge of the towel. Her skin is…pink and…warm.

I shove her back, sucking in a breath to calm down. “Put on some fucking clothes, or you really will sleep in the car.”

She cocks a brow. “Are you a virgin, 101?”

Clearly, her tits scrambled my brain. “Are we sharing here? Should we sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair and talk about our first times?” I roll my eyes. “Spoiler alert, Eve. Like you, I don’t even remember her name.”

“You’re lying,” she says. “You know my name, and I’ll bet you remember everything about the girl who took your innocence.”

Fuck this.

Who does she think I am? Some hormonal, love-sick schoolboy? “Eden,” I warn, “if you’re not dressed by the time I get out of the shower, I’ll do it for you. Trust me when I tell you, neither of us will enjoy the process.”

I can’t afford to lose focus.

I can’t afford to close my eyes and see her tits and imagine her heated skin pressed against mine.

I. Just. Can’t.

“Your demands are noted.” Eden’s eyes slide down to my tented pants. “Now, go enjoy your shower, 101. I won’t wait up.”

The cold water and the most aggressive hand job ever didn’t help my attitude. In fact, it’s worse.

“Why are you on the fucking floor?”

Eden has made a fucking nest or something with a sheet and a pillow on the carpet that is nastier than my father’s love for fucking my mother on the dock at our lake house, but at least she’s dressed.

“I thought you should take the bed since you’re driving and paid for the room.”

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