“You can. And you will.” My voice is final.
Because I am an arsehole, and because I need to convince myself this was nothing but meaningless sex, I add, “We’re done for tonight. Get the hell back to your room.”
She watches me for a long moment. Flickers of emotion cross her face, but just as quickly she shutters them away, her expression settling into something cool and unreadable.
Something twists in my chest, but I force it down, deep where it belongs.
Without another word, without even looking at me, she says, “Thanks for your service,” then turns and walks off into the dark.
I stand there, watching her go. When she’s far enough ahead, I follow.
I trail her back to the dorm building. She slips inside. I pause outside, pull up the feed to her sitting room. On the screen she closes the door, toes off her shoes, disappears from view.
I kill the stream.
She’s safe inside.
And still I stand there.
And still the question gnaws.
Why do I care?
Why do I keep breaking my own rules?
Most of all…
Why can’t I get her out of my system?
Chapter 17
Ophelia
Damnhim.
Damnhim.
Damn him.
I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to sleep with him again. By now it ought not to surprise me, with Arlo, it’s always the same.
One moment I’m consumed with the urge to have him, the next I could cheerfully throttle him.
He knows exactly how to wield that infuriatingly perfect body, how to ignite mine until every nerve feels alight.
The sex is nothing short of ruinous, leaving me light headed, and trembling in ways I’d rather not admit.
And then, inevitably, he opens that irritating mouth and ruins it all.
You’d think I would be accustomed to it by now. It’s practically his signature.
Yet somehow his words still slip beneath my skin, cutting deeper than I can disguise.
I loathe the power he holds over me. And worse still, I loathe myself for yielding to it. For being too weak to refuse him, though the truth is, I don’t wish to.
And that, above all, infuriates me.
As soon as I returned to my dorm, I headed straight for the shower.