Page 52 of Filthy Sweet

“Really,” he says as he turns his eyes back to the diorama. “It’s fucking cool. I wish I’d taken the time to learn just a fraction of what you know.”

“I’m sorry you had to drop out of school,” I tell him. “You should have been able to learn whatever you wanted to.”

Fox hums under his breath. “You remember Mr. Weichert?”

“Sure. He taught biology. It was my favorite subject, and he made me almost hate it.”

He laughs. “Sounds right. First day of class, he pointed right at me and made some joke that I was a Wilder boy and he should send me to the office now to save himself the trouble.”

“What?” I yelp as a group of college art students stroll past us, sketchpads in hand. “Seriously? That’s so fucked up.”

Fox shrugs. “Whole class laughed, too. But so what? I faced some shit to get where I am today, but so did you.”

“Not like you did.”

“You put every aspect of your life on hold to focus on school. Sounds like a pretty big sacrifice to me.”

“But I like school. I’m doing exactly what I want.”

“And I like being a music exec. But no one person can have everything. And of all the shit I could have had to sacrifice, Mr. Weichert’s biology class was hardly the worst.”

I want to argue with Fox that he’s given up a lot more than that. He might have ratcheted up the sexual experience, but he hasn’t allowed himself to care about anyone in a real way. I’m hesitant to go there, though, for fear of coughing up a ball of undigested emotions.

Fox crosses in front of me, brushing lightly against my body, like a breeze that I feel at my root.

“Point is,” he says, his voice deep and steady like a purr, “that big brain of yours is sexy.”

A quiver goes down my spine, and my cock twitches to attention. “You’re turned on by my PhD?” I tease.

Fox eyes me hard. “Those lips don’t hurt either, cutie.”

I laugh, enjoying the way he shifts between his pet names, making me Dr. Lavigne one minute and cutie the next. With a quick glance, I confirm that there’s no one around us, then lower my voice.

If he’s flirting, there’s no reason I can’t fight back.

“Did I tell you there are two parts to the surprise I planned?”

Fox’s eyebrows pop up. “Oh yeah?”

I run my hand against the side of my messenger bag. “I brought something special to wear for you,” I tell him, then lick my lip slowly, torn between feeling shy and bold. “I know how much you like panties.”

Fox doesn’t react for a second. Then his cocky expression breaks open with a laugh.

“Hey!” I say, stepping back.

“Oh no,” Fox says, rushing to grab my elbow. “I’m not laughing at you. Shit. Sorry, Owen.” He strokes the side of my face with the back of his other hand, holding my eye. “You’re so fucking hot in panties,” he whispers. “Please. Yes. Once we figure out this Reggie thing, I want that.”

I frown, uncertain. “Then why did you laugh?”

Fox grins. “The thing is—I don’t have a thing for panties, either.”

I blink. “But you kept insisting they were hot!”

He strokes my cheek. “Because I thought you were into lingerie! I was trying to make you feel better.”

The thought settles into my brain, and instead of feeling humiliated, I just erupt in a loud laugh, then throw my hands over my mouth. “Oh my god,” I say, still laughing. “Neither of us have a panty thing!”

Fox chuckles, still eyeing me. “Keep prancing around in lingerie, and I might start to develop one.”

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