Not that I need my imagination. I know just how perfect she is under all her expensive clothing. Emery Brawley naked against my skin is not a feeling I will soon forget.
But how does a girl with expensive clothes, pearls and diamonds on her ears, and a fucking leather book bag not have her own car?
The woman is a contradiction in every way. I’ve never known anyone like her. As she pretends to push me away, fakes as if she wants nothing to do with me, I see it all for the cover up that it is. I’d bet my balls she could turn a man inside out in hours flat.
She won’t get the same result fucking around with me.
I’m not a woman’s plaything.
Unless she enjoys being burned.
Who am I kidding? Of course she does.
We find the closest parking spot two blocks from the sorority house where the party is being held. Walking alone on the sidewalk in the dark I’m keenly aware of Emery’s breathing. Steady. Confident. She doesn’t talk much, doesn’t fill the quiet with nervous chatter like most woman do. As we get closer to the Eta Pi house the rhythmic throb of bass charges the air accompanied by slurred voices and drunken female squeals.
A guy comes staggering down the sidewalk toward us. I watch him as his gaze settles on Emery.
A sloppy smile pulls his lips. “Hey, beautif—”
“No.” I silence him with a palm to his chest and firm shove.
He stumbles back and miraculously manages to stay upright. “What the fuck, bro?”
I grip her elbow and firmly guide her around the fumbling idiot, only releasing her once he’s in our rearview.
“You could just pee on me,” she says in a bored tone.
“Maybe I will.”
The soft curve of her lips tilts up on one end.
The Eta Pi house is a swarm of activity, the house lights up, music blaring, and people loitering in every available outdoor space. I put a possessive hand on Emery’s lower back and she leads the way inside. The house is filled with sorority girls showing off their So Cal tans in barely there clothes and guys who are here hoping to score. The college party scene is predictable and boring as hell.
I put my lips to Emery’s ear. “Rowan will be with Carey, who will be somewhere near the keg.”
She doesn’t shiver and the pulse point in her neck is steady regardless of my nearness. I smirk to myself behind her back. She’s such a faker. I know she’s affected by me, I can feel the energy zap between us when we’re together. She’d have to be dead inside not to feel it too.
I spot the guys in the backyard, not far from the keg like expected. All of them with a Solo cup in hand, Rowan double-fisting hers while her eyes shift nervously around the space. She spots Emery and waves. “You guys made it! Grab a beer!”
“You want one?” I ask while guiding her to stand next to Ro. “Unless you’d rather have a chardonnay?”
She gives no response to my reminder of our first night together. “Beer’s fine.”
Apathetic and cold in public, but passionate and unrestrained in private, she’s smart, gorgeous, with a sick sense of humor. There isn’t a thing about her that doesn’t intrigue me.
I hand her a beer, grab myself one, and stand around shooting the shit while keeping a close eye on her. The girls talk about their classes and Ro launches into a speech about climate change while Emery looks on nodding and agreeing in all the appropriate places. Emery seems to genuinely understand Rowan and engages her on a higher level that most people find obnoxiously boring.
She hasn’t taken a single sip of her beer.
“Fess up, Spider,” Loren says at my side, but I don’t take my eyes off Emery. “You’re totally macking on coaches kid.”
I shrug, take a gulp from my beer, and slide my gaze to his.
His playful expression turns serious. “You got some kind of a death wish.”
Maybe. Truth is, I want to walk away from her, I just can’t. She’s sin incarnate—I know I shouldn’t indulge and yet I do. Over and over again. There is something about her that calls to me, and I’m determined to figure out what exactly it is.
A girl in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants approaches Emery. She pushes her oversized glasses up her nose and blows at a strand of brown hair that has fallen from her bun into her face. The girl stands out in a crowd of Greeks who are dressed to impress as she gracelessly pushes her way through the backyard. She appears to have rolled out of bed as she shuffles in fluffy slippers across the grass. “Emery, right?”
Emery smiles, small but believable. “Yes.”
“You’re in my organic chem class. Bexley.” The girl pushes her glasses up her nose again and rolls her eyes. “But only my family and professors call me that. I go by Bex.”
Emery introduces the new girl to Rowan and the three of them geek out about ecosystems and animal conservation. Meanwhile Carey and Loren are debating whether or not people with small hands can swim as fast as people with big hands.
I tune into the more intriguing of the two conversations and watch Emery as her stone cold exterior slips away the tiniest bit. She fights a smile, tries to swallow back the passion in her voice, and nods enthusiastically. Seeing her loosen up does some fucked up shit to my insides making my stomach muscles tighten and my senses go on high alert.
I don’t like it.
Chapter Twelve
Emery
I’ve never really had people before. Trusting others gives them the power to manipulate me, and I never want that. But as I talk to Rowan and Bex I realize if I had people, they would be them.
Rowan in her coffee stained Bean
