"Ha." I push the sound out and against his grip, I shake my head. "You wouldn't be able to get in without waking me up, D-man, but nice try."
His hips begin slow back and forth movements as he grinds his cock against me. It scrambles my brain and I hate him for it. I hate his words. I hate the way he makes me feel. I hate the thought that he might've just come from Kate straight to me. That reminder sends a wash of cold, prickling awareness through me.
What the fuck am I doing? I delve my fingers beneath his shirt and sink my nails into his skin until I feel the thinness of his flesh, until I'm two seconds away from breaking the surface.
He curses and his hand leaves my hair as he reaches down to grab my wrists. "Fucking—"
"If you really want someone to fuck," I hear myself saying as if from a long distance away, "why don't you go find Kate?"
Dean rears back, confusion and surprise marring his perfectly handsome face. I stare up at him, unblinking. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asks.
Ripping my hands from his grasp—he lets me—I shove against his chest until I can fucking breathe again. "It means exactly what I said," I say. "If you're wanting a bitch to be at your beck and call, then you're in the wrong dorm room, D-man. I'm not here for a good time. I'm here because I've got nowhere else to go."
"Are you saying no then?" He arches a brow.
"Yes." I untangle one of my legs from around his thigh and shove my foot into his chest, pushing him back even further. He goes without resistance, but still, his eyes watch me with a careful curiosity that sets me on edge. "I'm saying no and I'll continue to say no. Touch me again and I'll shove your metal-head cock so far into your body cavity that you'll have to see a fucking gynecologist to get it removed."
He surprises me when he asks, "Is that why you left?" I blink, and he continues. "Because you saw me and Kate? You thought I was going to fuck her?"
I scowl, hating the tight feeling of irritation in my chest. "Wouldn't matter if you did."
A grin spreads across his face."You think not? What if I want to fuck you?"
I jerk my other leg away from him and get off the bed. "No," I snap, turning away and reaching for a pair of pants lying across the floor. I yank them on, not caring if they're mine or Rylie's. All that matters is that they fit and they're another barrier against the sinful man in my bedroom that makes me want to taste violence and blood on my tongue.
"I'm not a toy, Dean," I say, facing the door. "And I also don't follow anyone's rules but my own. You should remember that." At the sound of movement behind me, I glance over my shoulder.
Dean gets off the bed and as he nears me, I can feel my muscles contracting, growing tight and tense as if preparing for an attack. But all he does is step around and reach for the door handle. He turns the knob and a wash of light spills into the darkened interior of my dorm room, partially blinding me after so long in the shadows. I lift a hand to ward off the initial brightness.
He stops in the doorway, his back turned towards me, shoulders slightly inward as if he's thinking deeply. Then, in a rough, almost hoarse voice, he speaks. "I wouldn't touch Kate fucking Coleman again even if I were riddled with disease and she was the only cure," he spits out, sounding furious—with me or himself, I'm not sure. Dean stops and turns his head, his eyes finding mine over his shoulder. It looks like he wants to say more, but instead, his eyes turn to the floor of my open closet door. "While you're getting dressed, you should pack a bag too. spring break starts tomorrow."
Startled by the abrupt shift in conversation, I gape at him. "Why the fuck would I pack a bag?"
He smirks, turning sideways as he steps out of the room, leaving the door hanging open. "Because unless you've cleared it with your dorm manager you can't stay in Havers over break."
My jaw drops. No one had fucking told me that. "You're lying!"
A barked laugh escapes his mouth. "No, I'm not."
I take two steps forward, curling my fingers around the edge of the door frame as I glare up at him. "Then I guess I'll just have to clear it with her," I snap. Because there's no way I'll be going back to Plexton.
Dean's lids lower as he smiles down at me. "You might find that a little difficult," he says with a wink. "After all, I did tell you that I can get whatever I want, baby."
Down the hall, the bathroom door opens and Rylie appears, pink-faced and scrubbed clean, carrying her caddy. She stops when she sees that Dean's still here and her mouth twists down in an irritated scowl. I can fully relate to what she's likely feeling right now.
I lift onto my toes until I'm as close to Dean's height as I can get. "Well," I say quietly, letting my eyes drift down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more, "you're not getting me."
Dean tilts his head to the side and I watch as that silver barbell I'd noticed before flashes behind his teeth. "We'll see, Avalon," he says, before taking a step back. "We'll see."
41
Avalon
When the sun rises the next day, I’m unceremoniously booted from the Havers dorm just like Dean had predicted. Rylie steps out onto the front steps alongside me and sighs, casting a look my way without turning her head like she doesn’t want me to know.
“Don’t say it,” I warn her, sliding my cheap ass shades over my face and looking up into the clear sky. It’s going to be a scorcher and the heat only makes my scowl deepen.
“Maybe you should call—”
“There’s no need,” I say, cutting her off as I readjust my backpack. And I’m proven right when, after a minute the low, thumping sound of rock blasting through classic speakers comes around the corner and a cherry red Mustang pulls up in front of us. Dean is such a fucking enigma sometimes, and yet so predictable at others, it drives me insane, but at least this time I’m right. I glance back at Rylie and arch a brow. “Wanna come along?”
She scrunches her face up and takes a step back, the sunlight glinting off her hair and making it appear more blonde than lavender. It’s been a while since she’s given it a touch up, and it’s fading back to its original color. “Not a chance in hell,” she says with a firm shake of her head. “You might be crazy enough to spend a week with the Sick Boys, but I’ll take my chances with where I’m heading.”
The passenger side door opens and Dean steps out, aviators centered on the bridge of his nose as he leans against the back of the car with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches us from several feet away, waiting for me to make my move—and I will … in a moment.
“Where are you heading?” I ask, cutting a look to Rylie.
Her shoulders stiffen and she hefts her bag up further on her shoulder. “I don’t ask about your time with him,” she says, nodding to the man currently watching and waiting for me. “You don’t ask me about what I do on my own.”
I purse my lips, but she’s got a point. “Alright, well…” I head down the front steps. “See you in a week,” I call over my shoulder.