Slowly, I realize, “Holy shit, we’re going to Yale.” He doesn’t even stumble when I leap forward to hug his neck, squealing. He effortlessly lifts me, sweeping my feet off the floor and carrying me forward. I don’t realize we’re in the bedroom until we fall into the mattress in one excited, breathless heap.
In one month, it’ll be just like he promised that day in his shower, when he decided to fight for me; just the two of us, and the open road. Three whole months of nothing but having him at my side.
And then four years of the same.
He leans down to kiss me, the warmth of his palm dragging deliciously up my shirt. It’s almost hard to remember a time where I was afraid of this, the brushing heat of him against my skin. Sebastian Wilcox barreled into my life in a whirling dervish of fists and flame, and he rearranged me. Tossed me about. Settled me into someone tidy and sound. The kiss he gives me is all at once sweet and stinging, a lot like the trail of fire left by his fingertips.
That’s just what it’s like to be touched my Devil.
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Afterword
GUYS!
Whew, things got tense for a minute, but if there’s one thing about me and Samantha. We may rip everyone to shreds but we will do out best to patch everyone back up at the end.
Thank you for taking this journey with us. When we started Preston Prep it was a one shot with Hamilton and Gwen. The world exploded with the rest of the Devils insisting on telling their own stories.
Special thanks to the readers on our ARC team, Angel’s Antics, Lisa for her patient Beta reading and VC Edits! Sam, as always killed it with the cover.
See you next book! Things are about to get rough.
Angel
Thanks so much for reading our self-indulgent angst porn! Big thanks to Angel for dealing with my constant overthinking and 3am manic emails that made almost no sense. And to my Discord nonnies for always being solid and listening to my arguments with myself. And Lisa, who is the best cheerleader. And to my husband, who stood behind me while I wrote the last chapter and acted as such a convincing cutman that I was able to crush it.
Sam
About the Authors
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Have you read the other books in the Preston Prep Series? Each is a standalone in a larger series.
Devil May Care
A Deal with the Devil
And don’t miss out on book 4, Devil Incarnate, coming in 2020! Read on for a sneak peek!
I look into the camera, testing a crooked smile before clicking the button. I lower my phone to assess the picture, deciding that it’s garbage. I try another, this one with my cleavage in the shot. Oh, yeah. That’s definitely it.
I add a caption:
Getting ready to crush these lame PhysEd credits. Should I do swim, bball, or track?
#PrestonStrong #killmenow #whyaretheserequiredcredits #SwimDevils #BallerDevils #RunningDevils
The bench in front of the gym is nice. It’s a warm day for March—warm enough that I’ve abandoned my sweater in favor of undoing a few buttons on my uniform. I get a couple instant responses from people who don’t even go here, so I’m scrolling down my ChattySnap when a group of people walk by.
I look up, realizing who it is.
It’s The Devils, capital T, capital D.
They ignore me, of course. As they should. I’m just a freshman, and they’re all juniors. Well, not just juniors. They’re some of the most popular people in school. Athletic. Smart. Rich.
Just then, one of them makes eye contact with me. Heston Wilcox. Oh, god. He’s so ridiculously handsome that my heart instantly starts pitter-pattering. It beats even harder when his steps falter, slowing.
“Hey, you’re Georgia, right?” he asks.
I nod, holding back an inner, girlish, squeal at the fact he knows my name. My name! “Uh, yeah. Hi!” I feel a little cringe at the excitement in my voice, but he just walks back a step, facing me.
Heston’s lips tilt into a wry smirk. “You busy tonight?”
I feel a hot blush creep up my cheeks. “Er… me?” A couple of his friends wait nearby, and my eyes dart over. They’re all Devils. Hamilton Bates, Ansel Davenport, Emory Hall. There’s a girl tucked under Hamilton’s arm. Her name is Campbell, but I’m not sure if that’s a first or last lame.
“Yes, you,” he says with a little laugh, amusement dancing in this ocean blue eyes.
I push my shoulders back, trying to adopt a façade of perfect cool. “No, I’m not busy tonight.”
He lifts his chin. “I’m having a party. You should come.”
Holy shit! Heston Wilcox is inviting me to a party! I stammer out, “To your house?”
“Yep.”
Blush deepening, I admit, “I don’t have a ride.”
He glances over at the guys, eyes zeroed in. “Campbell can give you a ride. Isn’t that right, Cam?”
Campbell scowls, obviously not pleased at someone telling her what to do, but Hamilton leans down and whispers something into her ear. Whatever he says is enough to smooth her expression. She gives me a look and calls out, “Meet me by the parking lot at eight.”
“S-sure,” I stutter, trying to look casual as I cross my legs. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
They walk off, just like that—as if Heston Wilcox hadn’t just socially anointed me.
*
The ride with Campbell is awkward. I try to strike up a conversation three times, but it falls flat. She barely answers me. I give up, spending the rest of the drive staring at my phone, full of excited nerves. I’ve been to parties before, but nothing like one thrown by the Devils.
And definitely nowhere like the Wilcox Compound, which is what everyone jokingly tags it as on social media. This place is insane.
When we arrive, Campbell all but leaves me to scurry after her in my heels. About the only thing that makes me feel a little less like an out of place loser is the way Heston looks at me when his eyes find me.
He smiles. “Hey. You made it.”
Breathlessly, I say, “Yeah. Hi.”
His eyes have that little gloss to them, like maybe he’s already a bit buzzed off something. I don’t blink an eye when he hands me a beer, a hand landing on my lower back to lead me into a room with a billiard table.
We spend a long time like that, him leading me around the party, talking to people here and there—people I know of, but don’t actually know. None of them really pay attention to me, but sometimes, Heston will bend down to say something into my ear, like, “You have nice legs,” or, “See that guy over there? That’s Carl. He can get you anything you want,” or, “Want another drink?” Every time he does, I get a small shiver, and the hand on resting on the small of my back rubs a little, like he knows.
I wasn’t totally expecting it, so it’s surprising to find that I’m definitely the girl on his arm for the night. The other girls seem surprised at the way he keeps me at his side too, throwing me the occasional confused or jealous glance. Even when he starts up a game of pool with his boys, he still returns to me, leaning in to talk some whispered smack about Ansel’s form.