"Oh?" I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest. "Do you expect me to just sit in my room all week like a good little girl?"
"Yes, that'd be preferable."
A part of me is shocked by his statement. Not by the words themselves, but by the fact that I think he's actually being honest with me. Nonetheless, I answer with a snort of derision. "Not happening," I state, shaking my head.
He doesn't say anything to that, which, once again, is a shock. I go to turn the knob of the door that's mine when I realize something. Pausing, I turn back to him. "There are three Eastpoint families," I say. "Three heirs. Why are there four bedrooms down here?"
Dean's face darkens and instead of answering, he turns around and storms across the hall to his door. He cracks it and then tosses his bag inside before turning around and facing me. "I had some stuff delivered for you," he tells me. "Get settled in and I'll come back for you later." He steps forward and I back into the door, looking up at the underside of his jaw as he glares down at me threateningly. "Do. Not. Leave. Until I come back," he orders.
With that, he turns and strides off, his legs carrying him away from me as fast as he can walk without seeming like he's running away. I smirk at his back but wait to say what I'm thinking until he's out of earshot.
"Pussy."
42
Dean
I stalk through the house feeling angry and dangerous. Was this such a good idea? I wonder. Having her in such close quarters for a full fucking week. Right across the hall. Available. Waiting. Ready for me.
She wants me, that much I know is true. The lake. Her fucking dorm room. The jealousy in her tone when she mentioned Kate. Oh, I know she won't admit it, but that doesn't make it disappear. The only problem I'm having is this desire I feel for her.
Avalon is trouble. Not only are the old men interested in her—for reasons I still haven't figured out—she's a wild card. Untamable. And that only makes me want to control her even more. Every word I spoke to her while I was there in her bed, between those lush thighs of hers, had been true. She's not the kind of girl that’ll let a man inside her without trust. It's not like I want her trust. I don't give a shit about that. I just want her to stop fucking with my head. Every time I get near her, my cock pounds and I want nothing more than to rip off her cheap clothes and spread her across my bed like a meal fit for the King I fucking am.
How long has it been since I've gotten laid? Maybe that's it. Maybe all I need is to get some head or some easy pussy and then all of this desire will disappear. Perhaps it's not really her that I desire.
With my thoughts running in circles through my head, I make my way back up the stairs to the main floors and go in search of Abel. I find him—and Brax—in the media room, their bags dumped haphazardly to the side, already in spring break mode.
Both have stripped off their shirts, the air in the room hot with so many bodies piled into it. At least eight guys sit across the giant horseshoe shaped couch, their eyes zeroed in on the flat screen TV that spans more than half of the wall in front of them. Half of the screen is replaying an old football game and the other half is a split top and bottom with two players racing cars around an unending track.
I shake my head as the top car on the screen skids and flips, wrecking and causing half of the couch's occupants to scream angrily, and make my way over to where Abel and Brax stand against the windows, watching the pool game taking place.
"I need you to help me look after the girl this week," are the first words out of my mouth.
Abel's head lifts in surprise while Brax merely ignores my comment in favor of taking a pool cue and moving into position. I switch the full brunt of my focus onto Abel.
"Why?" he asks.
"I just need to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid while she's here," I say.
Before Abel can respond, the side door opens and two of Eastpoint's top cheerleaders enter in string bikinis that could probably double for tooth floss. "Hi, Dean," one says, waving at me as she passes.
The muscles in my back stiffen as she runs a hand across the upper part of my spine. I almost tell her to get her fucking fingers off me before I break them. Almost. Instead, I keep the comment to myself and give her a brief nod of acknowledgment before turning back to Abel. "Can you do this for me?" I ask, meeting his gaze.
Abel frowns. "You wanted her here, man," he says with a shake of his head. "You're on your own with that girl."
"We need to keep her close. The—"
"Yeah, yeah, they want us to keep an eye on her," Abel says, cutting me off. I grit my teeth and resist the urge to snap at him. "The thing is," he continues. "We could've done that with a PI or something. Hell, I bet we could've let her stay in the dorms and had one of the managers or even her roommate watch her for us, but no. You wanted her as close as possible. Close enough to put her in the extra room." He lifts his eyebrows as if making a point. And a fucking good one at that.
What else was I supposed to do, though? I couldn't trust anyone else to watch her; she'd only sneak through their grasp as she's done repeatedly with us. I open my mouth to say just that when a small figure appears at my side—the cheerleader's back. She smiles up at me and holds up a brown bottle.
"Thought you might be thirsty," she says in a soft voice. The sides of her arms press inward, plumping her chest up. It's obvious what she's doing.
"Dean?" Abel's tone is deeper, a warning. I jerk my head up and look at his stony face. What the hell does he think I'm going to—oh. My eyes return to the girl. Yes, this could work. This is exactly what I need. As if he can read my mind, Abel's hand snaps out and he grabs my arm. "Don't."
I shake him off. "Don't worry about it," I say. "Just do me that favor and keep an eye on her this week."
I try to remember the cheerleader's name—Megan or Michelle or something like that. "No," Abel shakes his head. "I'm not watching her and if you think this won't piss her off, you're wrong."
A snarl builds in my throat. "Avalon Manning doesn't fucking control me," I growl. "Her wants or desires have nothing to do with me. She's just here so we can keep an eye on her."
"So, you two aren't dating?" Megan-Michelle asks, looking up at me hopefully.
"You two need to fuck, that's all," Abel says, ignoring her.
"I'm okay with that," the girl pipes up, misunderstanding as she presses against me more insistently. I take the beer from her and set it on the ledge of the window.
Abel bears his teeth at the girl. "Get. Fucking. Lost," he orders. Her eyes widen and she squeaks, looking from me to him before backing away, turning, and scuttling out of the room.
"Was that really necessary?" I ask blandly. I didn't want her, but I did want to use her.
Abel nods towards the side door and heads for it; I take his lead and follow. As soon as we're out of the house, away from the public eye of everyone else partying it up inside, he turns and slams me back against the building. "I tried," he snaps, getting in my face. "I tried to get you to stay the fuck away from her, but like goddamn magnets, you're attracted to one another. You brought her here. You set her up in our side of the house—right fucking across from you. Are you really going to pretend you don't want her? We all know what you did when you went to her dorm last—"