Page 9 of Nightmare

Those are my little secrets.

“That was mean.”

“You used to like me mean,” I reply, looking down at the ground as I blow my smoke out.

“I still do.” He steps closer until his hips are right in front of my face, fisting his dick through his jeans to show me. “It’s hard again now.”

I wet my dry lips and find the courage to look up at him, smiling despite myself when he looks down at me and takes a shot of tequila right from the bottle. I hold the joint up and trade it for the alcohol, my throat burning as I take a drink. He’s still watching me as he takes a hit, a white cloud of smoke drifting out of his full lips as he exhales.

I wish I could say I forgot how hot he is, but I can’t. I could never forget a damn thing about him, no matter how hard I forced myself to try.

His tanned chest and abs are just as cut as they were before, maybe even more. His dark hair is a little longer and messier on top, like he’s been running his fingers through it for months and now it’s just stuck that way. His t-shirt is tucked into the back pocket of the loose, ripped jeans he’s wearing. And those stupid, intense brown eyes of his…

We swap again, and he drops down on the step below me, putting his ass between my legs and sitting back against my inner thighs. I don’t stop him, but I don’t touch him either, leaning back on my hand as I smoke my joint in silence.

“Wanna play a game?” he asks after a minute, tipping his head back to look at me upside down.

“I’m sick of your games, Atty.”

“Liar,” he accuses. “Truth or dare?”

I roll my eyes and pass him the joint. “Dare.”

He chuckles at that, not seeming mad that I didn’t pick truth. “I dare you to kiss me.”

I sigh and yank his head back by his hair, making him grunt, but he doesn’t complain. I lean forward, but just as my lips are about to touch his, he turns his face away and taps his index finger against his neck.

“Here?” I ask, resting my mouth against the spot.

“Here,” he echoes, moaning quietly when I run my tongue over his pulse. He arches his back and squeezes my ankles. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

My heart somersaults inside my chest, like his own personal cheerleader, and I push him away before I do something stupid, like tell him…

No.

Stop it, Violet.

“Truth or dare?” I ask, clearing my throat when I hear how raspy my voice sounds.

“Truth.”

Fucker.

I was hoping he’d pick dare so I could dare him to walk away from me, but it looks like he’s playing just as dirty as I am.

“Who told you about Jared?”

“Phoenix,” he answers, his eyes darkening at the mention of my old study partner. “He heard Jared the night he told you he was in love with you.”

I remember that night. Jared turned up at the party we were at, got so drunk he could barely stand up straight, made his declaration while Atticus was playing pool with the boys in the other room, and then leaned in and tried to kiss me. I shoved his ass away and told him it would never happen, and I thought that would be the end of it. But not even forty-eight hours later, Jared’s dorm room was burning, he was on the way to the hospital with a bloody face and a broken wrist, and my boyfriend was on his way to jail.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, pulling me back from the memory.

“And if I had?” I hedge. “You saying you wouldn’t have tried to kill him if it came from me instead?”

“I didn’t try to kill him,” he mutters, almost pouting. “I just wanted to scare him a bit.”

“Well, you did that. I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I think he transferred to another college.”

---