Page 100 of Monstrous Serpent

My jaw clenches. “What was the grade?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Atlas leans against the wall, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “It does, especially if it upsets you, Little Jenkins.”

Jenkins wings the ball at his head. “Stop calling me that!”

I close the distance between us, then grab his throat. “Drop the attitude.”

“Then stop calling me by my last name.” He holds my gaze for a few seconds, then slumps, eyes downcast. “Can you just call me Cody? I mean, you fucked me. Unless it meant nothing.”

My grip tightens as a deep growl rumbles through my chest. “Watch what comes out of that mouth, Little Titan. I won’t warn you again.”

Cody nods, eyes wide.

I brush my thumb over his bottom lip, and he sucks in a ragged breath, his gaze locked with mine. Leaning in, I press my lips to his. Not hard. Not rushed. His mouth is warm and soft, and a shaky exhale pushes through his nose as my tongue slides against his.

He moans, fingers curling into the fabric of my hoodie as I angle his head the way I want it and kiss him deeper, slower, licking into his mouth until he opens wider and lets me take more.

I pull back just enough, then spit into his open mouth. “Mine.”

His eyes fly open, pupils blown, lips glistening.

Atlas grabs the back of my hoodie and pulls me off the bed, my ass hitting the floor. “My turn.”

I grunt, shaking my head.

But Cody chuckles, then yelps when Atlas tackles him. My best friend slams his mouth down onto Cody’s as they roll around on the mattress, pinching and slapping each other as they kiss, like they can't decide if they want to fight or make out.

My heart thumps hard as I watch them.

Both laughing. Both happy. Both mine.

Anything that tries to change that dies.

Chapter 25

Atlas

“Behind the crate. Behind the fucking crate.” Cody’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he stabs at the button on the controller.

“I see him.” I shoot the other player twice in the chest, then once in the throat when it tries to duck back. “Relax, Little J. I’m carrying your ass with dignity.”

“Oh, blow me.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.” I grin and sink back into the couch, steering my character through the warehouse.

Cody mumbles and leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the screen like he’s about two seconds from launching the controller into the TV screen.

I bump his knee with mine. “You good, or no?”

His jaw clenches as his character pushes left, aims down sight, and is immediately dropped before he even fires. “This game is such bullshit.”

“That’s what happens when you sprint straight into gunfire.”

“Whatever.” He opens the menu, clicks into one slot, backs out, goes into another, swears, backs out again.

Huh.