It’s not Ghost.
It’s Saint.
His eyebrows arch in surprise.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” he says with a wicked grin. “Missed me, baby?”
6
“I’m real tired of the breaking and entering routine,” I sigh once I’m over my relief that it’s not Ghost skulking around. “And how the fuck did you get in?”
“Did you really think changing your locks could keep me out, Mallory?”
He stands from where he was sitting on my bed and prowls toward me. I don’t let him back me into the wall this time, though, standing my ground as he bears down on me. I also don’t stop him when he slides his hands around my waist, then down to grasp my hips. He pulls me into him, and I’m surprised that he’s already semi-hard. Without a word, he dips his head to press his lips to mine. I can’t make myself stop him, so I let him deepen the kiss as his hands move to cup my ass.
I moan, but then pull my mouth away from his and turn my face away.
“We’re not doing this.” I push against his chest, but he just brushes his lips along my cheek and jaw, then nips at my earlobe.
“You sure you want to stop?” he murmurs. “I’m still turned on from class this morning.”
“Well, I’m not,” I insist, though it’s a fucking lie.
He leans back and grins down at me. “Hmm? You sure if I reached down into your panties you wouldn’t be dripping? Unless you’re really not wearing any.”
I glare up at him. “What do you want, Saint?”
He takes my chin between his fingers and holds my head steady.
“Since you refuse to leave like I told you to, you’re going to spend the rest of the year with me as your fucking shadow.”
All I can do is blink up at him like a dumbass. “Why the hell would you do that? Haven’t you spent the whole year sabotaging me at every turn because your precious father told you to do so. And speaking of that, get the fuck out of my room!”
“I meant what I said when I told you I don’t want my father to hurt you,” he explains in a gruff tone, not budging. “If you keep being a stubborn pain in the ass, I’m going to watch you like a hawk.”
His protectiveness throws me off a little. I don’t really know how to react, and I release an uncomfortable laugh.
“Jesus, Saint, it almost sounds like … like you’re in love with me.”
He reels back, as though I’ve struck him.
“Why the fuck would I go and do a stupid thing like that?”
I raise my hands, as though in surrender. “No need to get defensive. I was just kidding.”
A muscle in his jaw spasms. “It wasn’t funny.”
“Is that all you came for?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “To declare your intention to stalk me the rest of the semester and try to get into my pants? If that’s it, you could have saved your breath, fucker, you’ve been doing that since the day we met.”
“What other reasons would there be?”
I jab my tongue in my cheek and shake my head at him. “I thought you were going to finally tell me where Liam is.”
His expression goes pitch black.
“The fuck you still on that for?” he says in a raspy voice. “Why are you so damn concerned about him?”
“Jealous, Saint?” I mock. “Does it bother you that I actually care about someone other than your pompous ass? Maybe I should have fucked Liam. Then you’d really—”
He’s on me, with his hand around my throat before I can fully process what’s happening. I let out a gasp of delight that I can’t stop as his rough touch sends shivers coursing down my spine.
God, when did I become so screwed in the head?
“I’ve told you before to watch your fucking mouth,” he breathes angrily in my face. “You keep pushing me because you don’t think I’ll do anything to you, but you’re wrong, Mallory.”
“I don’t think that,” I retort. “I know you could hurt me. You’ve done it countless times before, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve actually changed.”
He bares his teeth at me. “I apologized.”
“For your own selfish reasons,” I toss back in his face. “And giving a blanket apology isn’t worth shit, by the way.”
We glare at each other, a strange tension built of rage and lust surrounding us and binding us together.
Finally, I snap, “Tell me where Liam is. Now.”
He clenches his jaw so hard, it’s a wonder his pearly white teeth don’t crack.
“You want to know where Liam is?” He tightens his hold ever so slightly around my neck—not enough to hurt me, but enough where pressure settles between my legs. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but you need to answer a question for me first.”
“What is it?” He’s bargaining, which can’t be good for me.
He lowers his head so that our lips are inches apart from each other.
“Who killed Jon Eric?”
My lips part in shock and I stare up at him, at a loss for what to say.
Finally, I manage to stammer, “H-how would I know that?”
He frowns, clearly not pleased by my response.
“Don’t try to play me, Ellis. I know you know. And I know it wasn’t you. Like I said before, you don’t have it in you to kill anyone.”
But he’s wrong. I killed James. And Jon Eric’s death? That was just as much my fault, too.
“Then why are you asking?” I rasp. Reaching up, I claw at his hand until he releases my throat and then dart away from him. He gives me space, but he points a finger at me.
“I need to hear you say it,” he insists. “Say that you know who did it.”
“Why do I need to say it?” Paranoia begins to creep in, and I can’t help but think about that camera that Nora and Ghost had planted in here. I gaze around, cautiously, looking for any visible signs of another device. “Are you wearing a wire or something?”
I make my words sound like a joke, but I’m more serious than I care to admit.
Saint looks at me like I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s trying to trap me. Again.
That’s the most fucked up part about Saint—he’s trapped me more than once, and yet he’s still standing here because feelings are a bastard.
“I’m wearing a fucking wire,” he spits. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Why else would you be so insistent on me saying something like that out loud?”
“Why do you have to be so damn difficult?” He stabs his fingers through his golden hair. “You badger me to tell you where Liam is and accuse me of hurting him, but when I want answers about shit from you, you lock down.”
“It’s not the same thing!” I cry. “Liam is my friend, and you…”
Fuck, I hate him. Hate him for being here and taking away my ability to think clearly. Hate him for everything he’s ever made me feel—both good and bad.
“I what, Mallory?” he demands. “I hurt people? Manipulate them? Yeah, I fucking do, but at least I’m upfront about how much of a prick I am. You act so innocent, but you’ve got more secrets than anyone else in this school. I can see them burning in your eyes.”