Page 493 of Lessons in Cruelty

Are her lips turning blue?

It’s impossible to say in this dim light.

“Fuck,” I curse through clenched teeth as I rip off my hoodie.

Thankfully, our time in the cabin let it dry out a bit. Even damp, it’s got to be better than bare skin out in this cold, clammy night. It’s stopped raining a few minutes after we left the cabin, but the trees are still dripping, and I think it just started drizzling again as well.

“Uh…” Haven begins, and then squeal-giggles as I try to drag the wet fabric over her head. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t want it?” I demand when her head pops out of the top of the hoodie. “’Cos I’ll take it back.”

She grabs the neckline, keeping it in place, her eyes catching light from God knows where, gleaming up at me. “No, don’t. It’s warm.”

“Then put your damn arms in the holes.” If I sound grumpy, it’s because I am. It’s fucking cold out here, and she hasn’t bitched about it once.

Who the fuck just puts up with shit like that without complaining?

Haven. That’s who.

My hoodie practically swallows her entire outfit, and it looks as good as Rooke’s gray hoodie looked on her the other night. My dick bounces against my thigh, already hardening into a semi at the memory of her crawling onto Rooke’s bed wearing his hoodie. How she shyly spread her legs. The sound she made when I shoved my fingers⁠—

“Let’s go,” I say a little more harshly than I intended.

As if she senses the sudden change in my mood, there’s no more giggling and squealing. She meekly climbs onto my back, arms slung across my chest.

We’re both silent until the lights of the campus building start blinking at us through the sodden trees up ahead.

I’m aware of her staring at me, but I try to ignore it. I need to pay attention to my footing, not to the way it feels when she stares at me.

The heat of her body.

The silky skin of her thighs, where I’m gripping her.

Jesus, I’m getting hard again. I can’t walk into Greek Row with a fucking semi.

Are we there yet?

When I finally stop in the backyard of the Nexus frat house, my arms and back are on fire again. Haven has barely slid onto the ground before I’m bending over, heaving for breath.

“So, um, I’m gonna go…” she says quietly.

My gaze latches onto her bare, muddy feet and slowly travel up mud and blood splattered legs, to the hem of my hoodie where less than an inch of her black skirt peeks out.

Up, up.

Her arm is bent at ninety-degrees, wrist against her stomach. She’s picking at her thumb’s cuticle with her middle finger. I slowly straighten, grabbing that hand on my way up, forcing her to stop.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I wheeze, wishing there was more strength in my words.

I keep a tight grip on her hand, pulling her along after me.

We take a while to reach the back door, what with Haven’s limping and me pausing every few seconds to make sure no one’s staring out of their dorm room window.

It’s so late it’s early, but for all I know, Jace could be awake for morning prayers already.

Someone left the back door unlocked again, thank God, and we slip in as silently as possible.

“Are you just being a considerate roommate, or am I not allowed to be here?” Haven whispers. “Melissa said boys aren’t allowed upstairs⁠—“