Page 69 of Cruel Prep (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 1)

She turns to me, eyebrows furrowed in consideration before she realizes I’m joking.

“Did you think I could actually be serious?” I ask, a laugh forcing its way out of me.

Lily gives a reluctant smile, chewing at the corner of her mouth. “You say that like it’s absurd, but I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

I probably shouldn’t be flattered, but I am. The idea that Lily thinks I have enough power in this town to rob a bank and then cruise around Main Street speaks to the impression I’ve made.

I don’t hate it.

“Generally, you can go ahead and assume I don’t commit felonies on a weeknight,” I say. “I reserve those for weekends.”

Her face goes flat, and I realize she is thinking about Dallas.

Fucking Dallas.

“I told you I didn’t do that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, holding up her hands.

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face. Besides, they said he’s getting out of the hospital soon.”

I stop at an intersection and see a group of kids sitting at a table in front of one of three frozen yogurt shops in Ravenlake. I don’t recognize any of the kids, so they probably go to Public. Lily is watching them too.

I wonder if she recognizes any of them. I wonder if she still talks to any of them.

She doesn’t have many friends that I know of at Ravenlake Prep, aside from me.

Though neither of us would classify our relationship as a friendship, I’m sure.

When the light turns green, she turns away from the window and faces forward, and again, her expression is obvious. Longing.

“Seriously, you need to learn to control that thing,” I say, drawing a circle in the air around her face. “It’s like an open book. No, more than that. It’s an audiobook. I don’t even have to read it; the information is just given to me.”

She pulls her face into an exaggerated frown, her pert nose wrinkling, and her pouty lower lip sticking out even further. I want to bite it.

“Maybe you should just stop looking at me.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

The words are out before I can consider them, but when I see the way her eyes widen even further, and her mouth pulls back into a look of restrained amusement, I can’t find it in me to regret them.

Whether Lily wants to admit it or not, she wants me, and she wants me to want her.

That was always the plan. To tempt her, to corrupt her.

I just never expected I’d corrupt myself in the process.

I realize all at once that I’ve been staring at her too long, and I jerk my attention back to the road and clear my throat, gripping the wheel to remind myself of where I am and what I’m doing.

It’s hard, though, because the scent of her is so fucking distracting.

I’ve heard a lot about pheromones and never particularly understood what that meant. I’ve smelled women when they are sweaty, and they smell just as rank as any guy in the football locker room. There has never been anything pleasant about muskiness.

Until now.

Somehow, Lily smells sweet. The sweat cooling on her skin is her own personal brand of perfume, and the AC is circulating it through the car, overwhelming me. It’s like I’m a dog and Pavlov just rang his bell.

I want her. Now.

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