Page 127 of The Invite
The events of last night flash before my mind. Because of the twisted turn the morning took, they feel like a lifetime away.
But breathing in his spicy cologne, feeling his heart pounding beneath my palm resting on his chest, I’m struggling to keep those memories at bay when they should be the least of my concerns.
Augustus is smart enough to figure out by now that I was in the classroom for the same reason as everyone else.
What I’m shocked by is why he didn’t immediately drag me out to reveal my presenceto the others.
I blink up at him, refusing to utter the first word. In the morning, I had so much to say that I was foaming at the mouth. Now, I’m at a loss.
The need to run away is strong but he’s holding the only escape hostage.
We’re twinning in matching black hoodies. With a pull, he tugs my hood back, causing my messy bun to come undone and my hair to spill around my face in rivulets. His tousled waves fall over his forehead, almost shading one eye and giving him a dangerously sinister look.
It would’ve been seductive if his expression wasn’t so intense and grim.
He presses himself flush against my front, making me tilt my neck even more. I become hyperaware of his bulk, the sinewy muscles, and the undercurrent of erotic tension that pulses between us every time we’re alone.
It’s like I’ve suddenly been shot with a bolt of electricity after walking comatose all day. Instead of increasing my anxiety, his presence soothes it.
It’s so jarring, considering the circumstances and the conversation I heard mere moments ago. I force myself to focus on the pressing issue rather than making sense of my puzzling reactions toward him.
“I didn’t know you took midnight classes, Miss Nessa,” he taunts with a hint of sarcasm.
“Would you let me breathe, please?” I huff in a thick timbre, imploring him to move back.
He doesn’t and his gaze drops to my lips, tracing them with his dark pupils.
“No. I’d rather see you choke.” Dropping his voice, he rasps, “Preferably on my cock. Or around my hand while I fuck you hard.”
I shiver and try pushing him, but fail. “Did you stay back to tell me this?”
My sarcasm is met with the tiniest twitch of his mouth.
“I came to tell you in person but you weren’t home,” he drawls, reaching for a loose strand against my cheek and twirling it between his index finger and thumb. “Where are you staying, Nessa?”
Like I’m ever going to tell him.
“Well, if you were just waiting to make a sexual threat, I think we’re all good,” I say dryly, leaving his question hanging. Pushing at his chest with all my might, I mutter, “So,adios. Yeah?”
His amusement vanishes into thin air and he grabs my wrists to push them against the driver’s side window. Pinning them down, he smoothly switches the topic, and states, “You received the invite too.”
“Yes,” I answer low, no point in denying it.
“You’re one of us.”
“I guess so.”
His eyelids turn into slits, causing my breath to hitch. “Or are you?”
“What do you mean?” I utter warily.
“You could be Anonymous.”
Is he nuts? “That’s impossible.”
“All the signs point to you.” Tilting his head, he recites them one by one. “New in town, living alone, grudge againststudents, visiting the crime scene, and eavesdropping on us. Your pastisan extreme contradiction to your behavior. Let’s not forget you were the one who conveniently found the body. Who’s to say you didn’t kill her, hmm?”
“I didn’t murder her!”
