This asshole is just going to sleep on my couch looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world? No, no, no. That’s not happening.
I stride toward the coffee table where a glass of tap water still sits half-full, unbelievably still there despite Stone tripping over it yesterday. I grip it in my hand, towering over Wyatt’s still form. My body crackles with new energy. Vengeance, maybe. Just a little. Though, this will never make up for what they’re doing to me.
I throw the tap water in his face.
He splutters awake, gasping for air. Eyes wild with an emotion that’s akin to fear, he pulls himself to an almost sitting position before he narrows his gaze at me. “What the fuck, Dakota?” His eyes burn, dancing all over my body as my chest moves up and down sharply. Yes, I liked that very much. Take that, asshole.
I go to turn but Wyatt grabs my wrist. He gives it a quick tug, spinning me and pulling me forward until I have no option but to fall onto him. He stealthily moves my legs to either side of his thighs, his hands on my lower back, keeping pressure there. My fingers land on his collar bone, tickling the edges of the slight indent of skin as he gazes up at me.
He licks a drop of water from his lips. “There’s only one way I like to wake up wet.”
My nipples peak. I’ve seriously just been transported into one of my fantasies. No, Wyatt isn’t currently wearing his cowboy hat, but he has hat hair, you know? The kind that’s flat against his head from wearing one. It’s the promise of that cowboy hat that does it for me.
The water glistens on his chest, dripping from his angular jaw, down his rippled abs before wetting my shorts where we connect. If I’m not careful, I’m about to soak another article of my clothing, too. I push off him, jumping to my feet. He grins like he knows he got to me. Great. That’s just what I need. My body to betray me.
I turn on my heel and go to the small kitchenette, placing the glass that’s still in my hand on the countertop. Then, I get my bag together, pulling the strap out from underneath Wyatt’s haphazardly placed bare feet, glowering at him the whole time for taking over my space unwanted.
He chuckles. “I would’ve had you pegged for a ray of sunshine in the morning. I didn’t know you were prickly.”
“It’s the company,” I bite out, trying not to look at my ruined dorm room. I don’t want him to know how much what they did bothered me. I spent all night cleaning my room while thinking over the contract.
“You didn’t seem to mind my company just now.”
I grit my teeth. These guys know exactly the charms they have. I’ve seen them use it when we’ve crossed paths before. I’ve just never been on the receiving end of it because we keep our distance from each other.
When I don’t lower myself to replying to his statement, Wyatt asks, “Did you look at Lance’s contract?”
I barely contain a growl just thinking about it. It’s evident Lance is one of those men who think they can buy their way into things. My family’s centuries of research will buy me their word I can stay in school and a hefty sum of money.
The true cost of signing on the dotted line, though, is my pride and...my family’s legacy. I can’t forget that part.
But what does that matter when you’re poor, right? Money and college are necessities in my life right now. Without money, I won’t be able to keep my family’s house, or you know, eat. Without college, I can kiss my future goodbye. The decision seems inevitable even though I’m still trying to fight it.
My dad once said that the treasure was my family’s Achilles heel. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s greed. If I had any self-respect, I’d walk away from Lance Jacobs’ deal. I’d figure everything out on my own. Literally alone. And maybe that’s why it seems like too much is on the line to refuse it.
Being poor is a stain upon your soul that if you’ve never been without, you couldn’t possibly know how it feels.
Wyatt leans back on the couch, his glorious muscles in full view. I remember thinking it was rare to see someone his age so well-endowed, and I feel it now, too. Or maybe that’s just my lack of experience and my small-town roots talking. Maybe there are guys like this everywhere else, just not in Clary.
He doesn’t seem the least bit ashamed that he’s sitting here in just low-slung jeans either. My cheeks flame. From an outsider’s perspective, this probably looks like the morning after a one-night stand. The guy sitting there proudly while the girl is a mess of wondering what the guy thinks of her or if he’ll even call her or remember her name. From the looks of the state of this room, it was some epic sex, even if that’s not the case at all.
“Are you going to sign it?” he asks, eyebrows piqued.
“None of your business.”
He grins. “I didn’t think you’d be this feisty, Wilder. I like it.” His gaze pours over me like aged wine. A confidence he shouldn’t have oozes out of his every pore. My skin pricks in response. I’ve only had a couple of sexual experiences myself, and they were totally lacking in the sexy department. That’s why I read books and have a generous imagination. After a couple of tries and fails, I figured I was better on my own. And I have been, but there’s just something about Wyatt that makes me think he’d be so fucking great in bed that I wouldn’t ever want to leave.
Which is exactly why I need to stay away.
I turn, heading for the door. “Where are you going?” Wyatt asks.
With my hand on the knob, I give
