Page 123 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

Glancing around the kitchen, there isn’t a surface she and I haven’t marked as our own. We’ve found the promise of exploring each other’s bodies makes excellent motivation to get work done.

If I do my calculus, Lily drops to her knees.

If Lily writes her biology case study, I’ll lay her back on the counter and study her with my fingers and tongue.

Months of beautiful debauchery that I will never forget. Months that make sitting in a normal classroom again feel like actual torture.

“You know how it was,” I groan.

She pouts out her pink lower lip, her brows pulled downward in mock sympathy. “Aw, is the little boy suffering sex withdrawal?”

She is teasing me, but I don’t care. I turn on the stool, open my arms, and nod, an exaggerated frown on my face.

Lily walks into my arms and buries her face in my neck, her warm breath blowing across my neck when she laughs.

“You might actually have a problem, you know that? We met in the parking lot for lunch.”

“First of all, a quickie in the parking lot does not count for anything.”

“Okay. Next time you want some head, I’ll remember that.”

“Hold on,” I say quickly. “That isn’t what I meant. It’s just that ten minutes in the middle of the day is nothing compared to what I’ve grown accustomed to.”

I pull her against me and pull the collar of her sweater away so I can kiss her shoulder and neck, still talking as I go.

“The things I want to do to you cannot be done during a passing period. I need a large window of time.”

She sighs when I suck her earlobe in my mouth, but when I slide my hand down her waist and head for the opening of her jeans, she swats my hands away and pushes me back.

“Not until we talk about your day,” she says, straightening her clothes. “If we start that now, we’ll never talk about anything important.”

I want to argue, but I know she’s right.

In the first few weeks after … everything … we tore into each other.

Every time anything remotely serious was brought up, we took solace in one another and fucked the pain away.

As a coping strategy, it worked for a while. Until it didn’t.

I found Lily sobbing in the shower when she didn’t think I was home, and I realized that we had to talk about things.

We had to deal with what happened, with what we did—both to each other and other people.

I’ve never been big on feelings, but I talked to Lily about growing up with my dad.

About the pressure he put on me and the threats he used to control me.

Lily told me about that night in the park. About how out of control she felt and how scared she was. She told me that she didn’t think she’d ever have control over her life again, which is why she gave in so easily to my demands.

She figured letting me control her was better than floating around aimlessly.

Hearing that almost broke me. To know that I’d been so close to completing my father’s plan, to breaking her down until she was nothing but putty in my hands.

So, we spent the next several weeks talking.

And talking.

And talking.

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