Chapter 10
FORD
“Let’s go over the rules one more time,” Wes says, like any of us gives a fuck. As if Ava doesn’t already have every last syllable burned into her brain after the last half hour of verbal waterboarding.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded, back straight, sleeves rolled just high enough to show off the muscles in his arms. The guy can’t go ten minutes without peacocking, and today he’s especially amped, his eyes flicking over Ava’s face like he’s cataloging every micro-expression.
Ava exhales slowly through her nose. “You’ve already made me repeat them twice,” she mutters.
I watch the way she spins her coffee cup in tight little circles, jaw flexing like she’s debating whether to drink it or smash it over Wes’ head instead.
I like this new version of her. Less scared rabbit, more mean little hellcat. I could spend all day poking her just to watch her bare her teeth.
She’s wearing one of those plaid miniskirts again– knee socks, tight black turtleneck hugging every curve and turning her whole body into an invitation. She knows what it does to me, and the worst part is that she knows I know she knows. And she’s doing it anyway, just to tempt me.
If she keeps this up, I’m not making it to lunchtime before I’ve got my hands on her.
“Let’s review anyway,” Wes says, clearly determined to pretend he’s running a corporate meeting instead of babysitting a hostage situation.
He glances at Raf, who’s slouched in the corner chair with his arms crossed and his mouth set in that permanent I dare you to make this my problem line.
If Wes is the campaign manager, Raf’s the silent majority.
He could shut this whole circus down with one word if he felt like it, but instead he just sits there watching, eyes dark and unreadable.
I decide to break the monotony.
“Somebody’s got a stick up their ass today,” I say, flashing Ava a shit-eating grin. “Come on, Doll. Recite for the class. What’s your story?”
She glares at me, but after a second she rattles it off anyway.
“If anyone asks, I was home sick. I don’t mention the Dollhouse, I don’t make a scene.” Her fingers drift up to the delicate chain around her neck, brushing the collar that marks her as ours. “And even if someone pushes,” she finishes bitterly, “I need to act like everything’s fine.”
She says fine with enough venom to kill an elephant.
“Perfection,” I say, tipping an imaginary hat.
Wes lifts a finger like he’s about to deliver a TED Talk. “And if anyone asks what you were sick with, you say?”
Ava glances at him, then me, then the ceiling like she’s hoping divine intervention might save her. “Stomach bug.”
I snort. “So people can think you were shitting your brains out for a week?” I laugh, thumping a fist against the table. “Just say you had your period, babe. Nobody asks follow-up questions about that.”
Raf doesn’t react, but Wes arches a brow, like he’s genuinely surprised I’ve survived this long with the things that come out of my mouth.
Ava rolls her eyes so hard she must see the back of her skull. “Do you know anything about women?” she scoffs. “A period doesn’t require a week of bed rest.”
I shrug. “I know enough to make them come so hard they can’t walk after.”
The blush that spreads across her cheeks makes my dick thicken instantly.
Yeah, definitely not making it to lunch time.
Wes groans and rubs his temples. “Ford, can you keep it in your pants for like ten fucking minutes?”
“Not if she keeps wearing skirts like that,” I reply, licking my lips as my gaze rakes over her bare legs. “That’s like putting steak in front of a starving man and telling him to go vegan.”
Ava shoves her cup away and slouches back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Just so you know, you’re not even in my top ten most annoying problems right now.”
That stings a little, but I hide it with a grin. “Then you need better problems, Ava baby.”
Raf finally speaks, voice low and still rough with exhaustion. “Play your role, we protect you. Step out of line, deal’s off.”
Ava straightens in her chair, defensive.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” she mutters, waving a hand dismissively.
Her eyes bounce between the three of us like she’s waiting for someone to call her bluff.
I consider doing it just to see what would happen, but Wes is already on his feet, grabbing his bag and heading for the door.
“Let’s go,” he barks over his shoulder. “We’re late.”
We all grab our shit and fall into formation, piling out the door and starting down the stairs.
On the last landing, I fish a cigarette out of my pocket and light it, taking a long drag before deliberately blowing the smoke straight into Ava’s face.
She recoils instantly, but I just sling an arm around her shoulders and steer her down the rest of the stairs, ignoring her sputtering.
“Welcome back to our world, Doll,” I say, leaning in close enough that she can’t avoid the stench of smoke on my breath. She wriggles in protest, but I tighten my grip.
Outside, the cold gray morning hits us as we step out of Sutton Hall and start down the path toward the quad.
The reaction from the rest of the student body is immediate.
Heads turn as soon as we come into view, like someone dropped raw meat into a tank of piranhas.
Whispers ripple through the crowd in our wake as we stride in the direction of the quad.
“…thought she was gone for good…”
“...is she really back with them…?”
“…maybe she was in rehab…”
I fucking love this part.
The attention, the spectacle. The way the entire campus watches, wishing they were privy to the details of our lives and knowing they never will be.
Let them look. It’s better than any PR campaign we could’ve staged.
We stop at the main intersection in the quad where all the walkways split off, the four of us planted dead center like it’s our personal stage.
Wes glances at his phone to check the time, then says, “I’ll get coffees.”
He peels off toward the coffee cart, leaving me, Ava, and Raf standing in a tight little triangle while the morning crowd flows around us.
The late autumn air’s cold enough that Ava rubs at her biceps for warmth, probably wishing she chose something warmer to wear than that flimsy turtleneck.
When she starts to shiver, I pull off my leather jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
She glances up at me with her eyes narrowed, half-surprised, half-suspicious.
“If you freeze to death, the whole plan falls apart,” I say with a wink. “I’m just being practical.”
“Yeah, sure,” she scoffs, but snuggles into the warmth anyway.
She looks way too fucking good in my jacket.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bryce Hamilton charging across the grass like someone just fired a starting pistol.
He nearly trips over a pigeon in his hurry, arms pinwheeling for balance before he manages to recover.
His hair is somehow even more aggressively platinum today, like he dunked his head in bleach before breakfast, eyes wide and frantic as he skids to a stop in front of us.
“Ava!” he pants. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling, and–”
He stops short when he notices the way I’m draped all over her, suspicious eyes flicking to me, then back.
Ava offers him a wobbly smile. “Hey, Bryce. Sorry, I uh, lost my phone. All my numbers were in it, so… I just got a new one yesterday.”
“Lost your…” he blinks, clearly struggling to process that. “Are you okay?”
His eyes round, all wounded puppy, and I immediately want to kick him down the stairs.
“She’s fine,” I cut in, tilting my head and giving him my most predatory smile. “We’ve got her. You can crawl back to whatever thrift shop you wandered out of.”
To his credit, he straightens up rather than slinking away, cutting me a glare. “You guys are such fucking assholes,” he snaps, looking at Ava like he expects her to back him up.
She just shrugs, averting her gaze.
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” I say easily, tightening my arm around her shoulders for emphasis. “Move along, Hamilton.”
Bryce glares at me again, but he’s not dumb enough to try anything. Not here. And especially not with Raf standing behind us like a silent executioner.
Instead, he looks at Ava again, his expression softening. “Let’s catch up soon, okay?” he says quietly, giving her a pointed look like he’s trying to beam a message straight into her skull.
She nods once, tight and quick.
Bryce frowns, shoves his hands into his pockets, and trudges off across the quad with his head down.
The second he’s out of earshot, I lean closer. “You like the attention, don’t you?”
She shoots me a withering look. “If by attention, you mean constant public humiliation, then sure,” she says dryly. “It’s my kink.”
I snort. “Didn’t have you pegged for an exhibitionist, but I can work with that.”
“You’re an idiot,” she deadpans.
I flash her a grin. “That’s what they tell me.”
Wes reappears with two coffees in each hand, passing them out like a barista who regrets all his life choices. I let the silence stretch for a beat, then bump Ava lightly with my hip.
“Let’s roll, Ava baby.”
We peel off from the others and head toward the science building for our Anatomy class. We’re about halfway there when I spot Chelsea, Blair, and Stella clustered near the entrance of Stoker Hall, whispering to each other like it’s their full-time job.
Chelsea tucks her honey-blonde hair behind an ear, glaring daggers at Ava as we pass. I feel her stiffen beneath my arm, tension rippling through her body.
“Relax,” I murmur into her ear. “That bitch can’t touch you anymore.”
She rolls her shoulders like she’s trying to shake the tension loose, but her jaw stays locked. “I heard Raf hooked up with her again,” she says, voice clipped.
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Yeah right,” I scoff. “Don’t believe everything you hear, babe.”
“Kinda hard not to when you hear it straight from the horse’s mouth,” she mutters.
“You mean the whore’s mouth?” I ask with a snort. “Chelsea Carson is a pathological liar. I know for a fact Raf hasn’t dipped his dick in her for at least a month.”
Ava goes quiet, chewing on her lip. It’s such a painfully obvious tell that I can’t resist pushing harder.
“It’s a good thing you and Raf are gonna fuck soon,” I say brightly. “The sexual tension between you two is getting painful to watch.”
She whirls on me, face turning crimson. “Keep your voice down!” she snaps.
I shrug, putting on my most innocent expression. “What? Isn’t that the plan?”
She blinks at me, face so red it looks like she might actually pass out.
I laugh loud enough to draw stares from a few passing students. “So when are you gonna let him pop that cherry?” I continue, dropping my voice to a low purr. “Tonight? This weekend?” I lean closer, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Or would you rather it be me?”
She lunges to slap my arm, but I catch her wrist before she can land it, twisting her hand just enough that she has to step closer to keep her balance. Suddenly, we’re chest to chest, our faces inches apart.
For a second, I think she might actually swing on me. Instead, she just glares, eyes bright with fury.
“Let me go,” she hisses.
I lean down until I can feel the faint tremor in her chest. “I’ve missed this,” I murmur, licking my teeth. “Haven’t you?”
She rips her hand free with an irritated huff and storms ahead, pushing through the doors of the science building and disappearing into the rush of students. I let her go, counting the seconds until she looks back.
She makes it a whole ten steps before glancing over her shoulder.
Gotcha.
I catch up with her inside the lecture hall, tossing my bag down and slumping into the seat beside her like I’ve been there all along. Then I reach under the desk, hook my hand around the base of her chair, and drag it a few inches closer to mine.
Her fingers instinctively clamp down on the edge of the table. “What are you doing?” she squeaks.
“Gotta keep you close, pretty girl,” I say with a wink. “Can’t risk you wandering off again before you make good on that little promise of yours.”
She stares at me blankly for a second. Then realization hits, and the glare she levels at me is glacial. “Fuck you.”
“Only if you ask nicely,” I murmur, reaching under the table to squeeze her knee.
She jerks away, but not before I feel the heat of her skin welcoming me like an old friend.
The professor walks in a second later, dumping his bag on the podium and starting right in on his lecture. I don’t absorb a single word– not with Ava sitting right beside me.
The entire class becomes a game of how much I can get away with.
Leaning over to whisper things in her ear just to hear the little gasps she tries to swallow.
Watching the way her pen wobbles every time she tries to take notes while I’m murmuring something filthy under my breath.
At one point she nearly chokes on her own spit after I quietly suggest I might have to tie her to my bed and teach her anatomy the old-fashioned way.
Worth it.
By the time class finally ends, she looks like she’s been through a minor war, and I’m willing to bet her panties are soaked through.
Students start filing out, chairs scraping and backpacks zipping.
As she stands to leave, I grab the back of her neck and pull her toward me, crushing my mouth against hers before she has a chance to stop me.
The kiss is hard, messy, and over before she can even process it.
When I let her go, her cheeks are flushed, her lips puffy, breathing gone shallow.
I grin, licking my lips. “Plenty more where that came from,” I say, reaching down to adjust the bulge in my jeans. “You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. She just stares at me, dazed.
Perfect.
We head out with the rest of the class, exiting the building to find Raf waiting. He falls into step beside Ava without a word, taking over escort duty for her next class.
Before they peel off, he shoots me a look that’s equal parts amusement and warning.
Whatever. Let him try to beat me to the prize. The only thing I love more than winning is the chase.