Devious Minds (17 page)

I couldn’t tell what kind of tear it was. A happy tear? A sad tear? Maybe a little of both. All I knew was I never wanted to make Sydney cry again, because her face full of any tears would be too much for me to handle.

“Jack,” Allison said, clearing her throat, “I’ve really liked hanging out with you over the last few weeks. I’d like for us to go out. Like on a real date. Outside of school and outside of the library.”

“Yes,” Jack quickly replied with clear and distinct confidence. “I’ve been wanting that since the moment I laid eyes on you, Ally. You’re the smartest, sweetest, and most hygienic girl on this campus. I would love to take you out.”

Sydney lifted her arms and jokingly sniffed her armpits, but that beaming smile stayed plastered on her face. It quickly dropped when smacking noises began from the front seat of my car.

“Do me a favor, Peters,” she leaned in and whispered, pointing to a toolbox set in the corner of the garage. “Pick up a wrench and knock me unconscious. I can’t live with myself if I hear my brother lose his virginity.”

I smiled and lifted my hands to cover her ears. “Can you hear me?”

She shook her head and whispered, “Now’s the time to tell me to go to hell, Peters. Your big meat paws are thick. I can’t hear shit.”

“You smell like mayonnaise left out in the sun too long, Sinister.” I started off with a childish low blow just to test her. She smiled, flashing me a thumbs-up.

“One of your breasts is bigger than the other.”
Her left
.

Another thumbs-up.

The smacking noises grew at a steady pace, and I made a note to have Jack detail it later. Pressing my palms down against her ears, I closed my eyes. Because if DJ couldn’t hear and QB couldn’t see, the next words out of my mouth wouldn’t be real.

“I love you, Sydney Porter.”

When I opened them, she gave me another thumbs-up.

Then she said, “I loathe you too, Gray Peters.”

I
opened my eyes to a dark room and a ceiling sprinkled with glow-in-the-dark stars. Moving my body in a slow snow angel-like formation, I inhaled a breath of relief.

I was the only one in Gray Peters’s bed.

A low snoring sound came from the floor below me, and peering over the edge, I saw Peters lying in a fetal position on his rug. He’d pulled all the covers off the bed, leaving me totally exposed. I gently tugged his bedspread back up, and he stirred.

“Sydney?”

“No, it’s Fernando… Go back to sleep or I’ll roll off the bed and smother you.”

He laughed and sat up straight. Holding his head, he let out the low groan of a severely hung-over twenty-something. “Jesus Christ. What happened last night?”

I tugged up the rest of the covers and turned on my side. “The question is what
didn’t
happen last night, Peters, and for the record,”—I flipped a finger between him and myself—“we didn’t happen.”

“I know,” he said a little half-heartedly. “Can I get on the bed? This hard floor is leaving my hip sore.”

Before I could answer hell no, he jumped in bed and pulled the covers up. I nudged him with my elbow, and he fell back out.

“I should go home.” I sat up and realized I was wearing a large white T-shirt. “Shit. What happened to my dress?”

He raised a hand above the mattress edge and pointed to a skintight blue dress, now cut into long strips, in the corner. “You came in here complaining about societal pressures on women to wear uncomfortable sausage tube casings, then grabbed a pair of scissors off the desk and started cutting from the crotch up.”

“What? No way.” Reaching down, I made sure I still had on my underwear. “Were you in here? Oh my God.”

He laughed and let out another painful moan. “No, Allison came in here with you. She helped you cut it and then found a T-shirt in one of my drawers. Then you put on a pair of my socks, grabbed my sunglasses, and slid across the living room floor with Allison, singing Beyoncé.”

“I would never.” I gasped, and he laughed harder. “Beyoncé?”

“Trust me. You did. Fernando got it on video. It’s probably on YouTube now. He’s been big into YouTube since his DJ stardom.”

I lay back in bed, and Peters released a whimper like a man who’d just lost a bar fight.

“What are you wearing, Peters?” I peered back over the edge, but I still hadn’t quite adjusted to the room’s darkness. “Do you have clothes on?”

“A T-shirt and boxers.”

I lifted the covers. “Fine, get in… No touching.”

A second later, Peters hopped into bed, and I’d made a wall of pillows between the two of us as a barrier. Despite using four pillows, there was still one for each of our heads.

“You’re like a girl with all these pillows. Allison would be envious. Speaking of, is she still here? How’d she get home?”

“I gave Jack your keys,” he said casually, turning on his side. “He took her home. They were sucking face all night.”

I reached a hand through a crack in the pillows and pinched his ass.

“Ouch,” he hissed, flipping over on his back.

“Why the F would you do that? How the hell am I supposed to get home… in only a T-shirt and my heels?” I growled and slammed my head back on the pillow.

“Relax, Sinister.” He sat up and flipped on his phone. “It’s four AM. I’ll take you home in few hours.” He rubbed the back of his neck, flexing his biceps. I knew he wasn’t trying to show off, but his muscles had egos of their own. When he lowered his hand, he dropped it on my ankle and gave it a quick, tender squeeze. “Are you thirsty? I need water.”

I jerked my leg back. “Sure, water would be good. Just make sure you give me a fair score on the pussy scale this time.”

“Fucking hell, Sydney. I told you I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t do that. I swear on my grandpa’s grave.”

Letting out an exhausted sigh, I nodded, but he couldn’t see me as he left the shadows and opened his door. When he came back, he flipped a reading light on by his desk, introducing a dim glow into the room. Then he handed me a bottle of water and slid back into bed.

“You should see your hair right now.”

He smiled, and I frowned, noticing his looked perfect. I lifted a hand to my rat’s nest, trying to flatten it down.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just me. Do you remember anything from last night?”

I looked down at my red, chaffed knees. “I remember crawling out of the garage when it was clear Jack and Allison were steaming up the place.”

I thought back on the night, trying to concentrate through my stormy head. “I remember taking shots with Fernando while discussing our mutual love of brie cheese and pinot noir. Who knew Fernando had such a sophisticated palate?”

Peters laughed and clinked his bottle of water against mine. “To new comrades,” he said, then took a drink. I gave him a small smile, but inside, I was filled with dread. In less than twenty-four hours, word would get back to my dream assassin, and Peters and I would go right back to square one.

“I don’t think we can be friends after today, Peters.” I leaned across him and set my bottle on the nightstand. “You don’t understand. I fucked up big time, and the entire campus is going to hate me. I can’t say why, but trust me. You’ll know.”

He looked down and played with the edge of our pillowcase Berlin wall. “Let’s just cross that road when we come to it, Porter. Until whatever you say is going to happen
actually
happens, let’s just be civil with one another.”

Nodding slowly, I lay back on the bed with my heart still pounding in my chest. “I can’t believe I ended up in your bed… Jesus.”

He held his hands up as if to prove he didn’t touch me. “I was a perfect gentlemen, Sinister. Even when you were on your hands and knees, begging me, I said,
Yes, Sydney. I understand I take your breath away… No, I wasn’t aware you’ve been dreaming of me for the last two years… I know my ass is—”

“Shut up.” I turned, grinning into my pillow. God, he was cute even when he was an ass.

Peters laughed, and I flipped on my side. The hem of my shirt pulled up to my waist, and his eyes darted to the curve of my hip. I didn’t pull the shirt down. I watched him watch me—half hoping he’d become a hormonal teenager and make a move.

Instead, he reached over and pulled the covers up to my waist. “You look cold,” he said with a small frown on his face.

“Thanks.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment.

“No problem.” He locked eyes with me, his dark hair framing the side of his face, perfectly cutting across his cheekbones. When I felt a surge of heat down under, I shifted, trying to let it escape, but it was a wasted effort. “Are you going to the mom’s weekend brunch with Jack? It’s a football event, but the food’s pretty good ‘cause it’s not catered by Northern.”

I smiled. “Darn. I was looking forward to rocket dogs for breakfast, but word is there’s a mysterious shortage on campus. Fernando told me about the
alumminati
.”

He cleared his throat, which was now red and rashy. “What did he say?” He closed his eyes and a look washed over his face liked he was standing in front of a firing squad.

“Nothing. He just said he swiped a stash of hotdogs because of a secret society of concession stand Nazis. Relax, Peters.” A sharp pain shot through my neck. “Ouch, Jesus, I can barely move my neck.”

Peters chuckled. “That’s because you played
Call of Duty
for an hour with Chance. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you now. You killed Scott Johnson like seven times… and you whispered into the headset, ‘
When you don’t go to bed when your mom says so, Scott, you die by my red-hot bullet
.’”

“Yeah. That kid is a little twerp. He kept calling me
old lady
, and Chance did try to grab my ass once.”

Peters’s face practically burst into flames, and I laid a hand on his knee. “But I turned around and slapped him in the face. Then killed his character with a serrated knife across the throat.” I gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. He covered my hand, grasping my fingers gently.

I grew somewhat breathless when he stroked over my fingertips. “Tell me three things that are true about you, Sydney
Fu
, car thief and jokester.” He rolled his fingertips up my wrist and swept over my keyboard tattoo, stopping to play notes along my skin.

“I’m twenty-one years old,” I said as a line of electric goose bumps blossomed across my skin. I sat up and pointed to the blue strips of devil fabric in the corner. “I hate wearing dresses.”

Peters chuckled again and locked his caramel eyes on my lips.

“And I love cuddling.” I tossed the mountain of pillows off the bed.

Peters hopped up and turned off his light. When he jumped back in bed, he slid his arm over my waist, dragging me into the curve of his body. “Good night, Sinister,” he whispered into the back of my neck, pulling the covers over our bodies.

“Good night, micro-dick,” I teased, and he gave me a tight squeeze before we both fell back to sleep.

F
rom the moment I woke up, I wholeheartedly wanted Sydney Porter. Sinister. She was a dark angel tucked into my arms. When her soft hair brushed against my neck, rousing me from my sleep, it aroused something else, too. I tried to conjure the most horrifying images to keep myself calm. Fernando naked didn’t work. The bubonic plague didn’t work. Now Katharine’s shrill cackle, yeah, that had me sneaking glances under the covers to make sure I was still a man.

With my manhood in check, my brain began firing on all cylinders. Without a doubt, I had a seriously sexy, wickedly funny girl lying in my arms. Sydney Porter was my own personal touchdown. And I was close to winning the game. But my gnawing sickness tripled overnight.

I’d taken this game too far.

My lies were a thick smoke in the air, an emotional haze making it hard to breathe. It would’ve been easy to stop with the blackmail. Let things go back to normal. But stupid me went and wrote a letter, raising Sydney’s hopes. And she wasn’t dumb and she wasn’t a quitter. She’d hunt her blackmailer and eventually, the trail would lead to Gray Peters.

Two years earlier…

H
ow we went from guitar lessons to naked, I had no idea. What I did know was it was not this mere mortal’s place to question a gift from the gods. A gift wrapped in black lace and taut, olive skin. Nope. When a present like Sydney was delivered right into your lap, you didn’tignore i
t
.

“We don’t have to do anything, Sydney.” Laying down my guitar, I stood from the bed. “I wasn’t trying to bring you back to my room to get you into bed.”

Sydney moved her hands behind her back and unclasped her lace bra. As it fell to the floor, two firm breasts appeared, lying against her skin like teardrops.

Move, Peters
.

I don’t remember walking, but then I was there, inhaling her strawberry body lotion. My palm rolled across her goose bump-prickled skin, as if directed by a ghost. Catching a glimpse of her tattoo, I licked my bottom lip, ready to taste her.

“Sydney, are you sure you want to do this?”

I knew she wasn’t drunk. She’d hardly had a few sips. She nodded, focusing her brown saucer eyes on mine.

“Have you ever done this before?”

Nodding again, she wrapped her hands around the back of my neck and pulled me to her mouth. It was warm and sweet to the taste. Sydney was addictive. I caught her plump lower lip between my teeth, tugging it gently.

“More,” I whispered.

Then Sydney opened for me, allowing my tongue to sweep inside and explore.

A timid moan escaped her, and I wished it were louder. I was going to make it louder. Running my tongue down her neck, my lips fell between her breasts. I kissed each softly, until she let out a hungrier moan.
There it is
. Music to my ears.

“Let’s go to the bed,” she whispered. “My knees are getting weak.”

I made her knees weak?

Sydney took my hand, and I led her to the bed. When she sat down, I stood in front of her, staring down at her heart-shaped face.
What’s next?
T-shirt. Pulling it off, I threw it on my desk.

“Lie down,” I said, kneeling in front of her trembling thighs.

Spreading her legs apart, I lightly kissed along the inside of her knee.

“Take your pants off,” she countered, twisting a stray strand of hair around her finger. The rest of her wild, dark hair lay like a veil covering her breasts.

“Pull your hair back.”

She flipped her long hair to her back, and I leaned in, taking a breast in my mouth.

“I said take off those pants, Gray.”

“Or what?” I mumbled between mouthfuls of skin.

Her foot skimmed up my thigh and stopped between my legs.

Pants were off in three seconds.

She’d have to take off the boxers, though. I wanted to feel her hands pull them down. It was my last test to see if this was real. When I kissed closer to her center, Sydney reacted by slamming her legs shut.

I jerked my head back like I’d just missed a swinging axe. “Are you okay?”

Her face was flush. “Yeah, I’m not used to faces down in that area,” she said awkwardly, making a wide sweeping motion with her hand just above her panties.

“What? You mean no one’s been down here in eighteen years?” I smiled at her, and she turned her face, biting down on her lip—sexy as hell.

“Well, that changes tonight. Lift those hips.”

Cautiously, she lifted her hips, and I pulled off her panties. She didn’t shave it all off. It was trim and tidy but womanly. She flexed her thighs next to my head as I lowered my face.

“Scoot back across the bed.”

When she reached the wall, she propped up on her elbows. “I want to watch.” She released a low, nervous breath. “Can I grab your head? I’ve seen it in movies.”

“In movies?” I laughed. “Baby, you can grab whatever you want.”

I slid my palms over the insides of her smooth thighs, kneading the worry from them. “Relax your legs, Sydney.”

She was reluctant at first, but eventually, she let me kiss the insides of her thighs and lowered her legs to the bed. Spreading them wide open, I pinned her knees down so she didn’t have a jerk reaction and crush my skull.

“How does it look?” she asked timidly, and I about lost my shit.

This innocent girl who was letting me explore her for the first time was nervous as hell.

“It looks perfect. You’re perfect.” I blew onto her wetness, and she released a cracked breath, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t worry. Just relax.”

I kissed her clit, and she muffled a moan against her forearm.

“Music’s loud, baby. Be as loud as you want.”

When my lips landed on their perfect pink destination, an aching, guttural sound came from her, pushing me to be greedy. My hunger only increased when she laid a hand on back of my head. Then she grasped my hair, bringing me close to her slowly bucking hips, and the room became drenched with raspy feminine moans. Excited shivers cascaded across my back and multiplied with each delicious lick and tease.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, now rolling her hand through my thick hair. Dropping her elbows, she lay flat on the bed. “Grrraaay.”

Her labored breathing built to a crescendo, and all inhibitions left the room as she held on to my ears, rolling her hips over the mattress for more of my mouth. Then she instantly hardened under my tongue and cried out. I was still latched onto her sweetness as I watched her eyes roll to the back of her head. And when her moaning waned, her arms fell limp at her sides.

When I lifted my head, as I suspected, she slammed her legs shut. Then immediately, she flipped on her side, panting against the wall.

I cannot describe the feeling of doing that to her. Especially for the first time. The pure ecstasy washing over her flushed face would fuel my dreams for months, if not years.

Hopping into bed, I pulled the covers over us. “We don’t have to do anything else, Sydney.”

She turned to face me and smiled. “That felt really, really good. Like, why hadn’t I allowed that years ago?” Lifting a fist to the ceiling, she shook it toward God. “WASTED YOUTH!”

Then she pulled my chin to her lips and kissed me. It was extra long and extra deep. Searching for something I hoped I was giving her.

“Honey,” she said, pulling away, and I watched her tongue slide across her bottom lip.

“What?”

Resting my elbow on the pillow, I held my head in my palm, letting her angelic face sink into my mind. Before this night, I’d been with three other girls. Not one of them as sexy as Sydney. Her dark hair framed her huge doe eyes, peeking up at me from long lashes. Her smile was perfect and white, tucked into a flawless set of cheeks. When she laughed, it was so deep and real. She was infectious.

“I taste like honey,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Do you disagree?”

I smirked. “No, although I think there was a hint of mint chocolate chip ice cream down there too,” I teased, lifting the sheets and staring down at her crossed legs. “Let me double-check.”

I headed back down, and she squealed.

“Get back up here, Peters.” She lifted her knee, bonking my forehead.

Pulling back up, I lay back on my pillow and slid my arm under her neck.

“I need a minute to recover. You really got me worked up, and I’m on sensory overload.”

“Tell me more,” I joked, but I was desperate to hear about my skills.

Instead of waxing my ego, she lowered her hand to my boxers. When she gently pulled over me, I let out a low, needy groan.

“You have a condom, right?”

Grabbing one from my nightstand drawer, I ripped the foil package. I began rolling it over me, but Sydney finished the job.

Then she lowered her head under the covers. I fought against a grunt as her hair grazed my bare chest, slipping down my stomach in a feathery wave. When her tongue ran over my belly, all my blood rushed to my groin. “Baby,” I rasped. “That feels so good.”

She kissed the sides of my hips, which were sore and bruised from practice, and I arched my back to catch more of her soft mouth. Hot breath coated my sides like a warm blanket. It made me ache for those pouty lips all over me. When a pair of hands ran up my thighs in one smooth motion, I’d had about enough of her teasing.

I gently tugged her back up by her bicep.

Sydney’s head poked up from under the covers with a small frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

Cupping her sweet face, I brought her close to my mouth. “Absolutely not. I just want to see your beautiful face.”

She kissed me again, and I groaned into her mouth as she moved up to straddle my hips.

Then the world went away as she sank down on top of me. It was nice and slow at first. She moved up and down, teasing me, so I grabbed her ass and pushed in deeper.

When she drew in a sharp, harsh breath, I stopped. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”
Please say you’ve never been with someone so large.

She smiled and moved her hips again. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

I lifted up to a sitting position and studied her face.
Is she really in pain?