Chapter 8
Eight
Liam
As soon as I get the text from Iris, I’m racing across campus at lightning speed. While we’re just friends with benefits, I look forward to spending time together.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s been sending me nudes.
She’s also sent me photos of her and the shelter dogs that she’s been cuddling. It’s part of her work-study that she’s doing at Great Falls.
I swear if she weren’t living in the dorms, she’d probably have adopted all of them.
I head up to her dorm room and give a prominent knock, waiting for her to let me in.
“Just a second!” a female voice shouts over the loud music. I’m surprised anyone could even hear me knocking.
Bristol Greyson yanks open the door, stares back at me, her eyes glower and she slams it shut.
What the hell?
Does Iris know Bristol? Are they new roommates?
I fucking hate Bristol Greyson. She’s a spoiled rich kid whose dad used to play in the NHL and then bought the team.
He’s a billionaire.
Hell, I read that he was a billionaire before he even played hockey, which makes sense. No hockey players are rolling in that kind of dough. He did some stocks or bonds or something financial when he was young. Hit big. Made lots of money.
He’s a rich guy with a snotty daughter.
She was a brat in the first grade, when we were forced into the same class, and a hellraiser in middle school.
We both went to the same private school growing up. By high school, we were in different social circles.
I don’t want to admit that she actually turned from ugly duckling into a real beauty. Doesn’t matter how hot she is, she’s dripping with venom.
The girl has serious claws and teeth that bite.
I pound on the door again, and Bristol throws it open, glares at me, grabs me by the arm, and yanks me into her room before slamming the door shut.
“What. The. Hell.” I glare at her and glance around.
She turns the music down on her speakers.
Where the fuck is Iris?
This isn’t Iris’s room. Was there a change in her dorm? Am I on the wrong fucking floor?
“Is this 416?” I glance around because I’d recognize Iris’s room with her puppy posters littered all over her walls.
There are no puppy posters.
This room has a darker overtone. While the walls are painted a standard gray, they have smaller posters with a gothic vibe. There’s some witchy shit going on here.
“Voodoo Queen.” I glare at Bristol.
She rolls her eyes. “You always were overdramatic. What the hell do you want?”
“I’m looking for Iris. Room 416.”
“You’re on the wrong floor, dumbass.” Bristol blocks me from leaving, a wicked smile on her face.
My phone buzzes, and I retrieve it from my pocket, glancing at Iris sending me a text.
Waiting. ETA?
“My mistake. I wouldn’t want to bother you.” I gesture to the door behind her, and she cackles.
It’s one of those unmistakable witchy cackles. Oh gosh, the girl is going to put a spell on me. Or maybe it’s a hex or curse. Is there really any difference?
“Girlfriend?” Bristol guesses. She looks amused, eyeing me up and down. “I saw you play tonight. You weren’t—bad.” She really knows how to get under my skin.
“I kicked ass on the ice.” I glare at her, stepping closer. She can’t intimidate me like she did when we were six.
I’m not claiming to be a saint. Sure, I picked on her, but she was a rich kid. It wasn’t anything she didn’t deserve.
My twin sister and I were only enrolled because of our biological father, whom we didn’t even know until we were four. Getting thrown into a new home, new school, new family, it was wild and turbulent.
I had a few rebellious years early on, when I met the brat who stands in front of me, but she continued to torment me at any chance she had.
And, of course, I fought back.
It’s what we Morettis do.
“You think you played good tonight?” Bristol folds her arms across her chest, her Predators jersey rising up slightly as she argues with me.
The creamy skin of her stomach and her freckles call out to me.
Fuck no.
I glance away.
She snorts and throws her hands up in the air. “See, can’t even look at me. You know I’m right. You played worth shit.”
“I scored a goal.”
“One measly goal.” Bristol meets my gaze. “Your teammate is a better hockey player than you.”
I invade her personal space, my arm coming up against the door, blocking her in, keeping her within my grasp.
“Say that again,” I growl at her.
Bristol stares up at me, her gaze not the least bit wavering. “You’re a shitty hockey player. Your teammate Ricci, he knows how to fucking score. You should take lessons from him. Maybe he’ll teach you how to hold your stick and—”
I lean down and bite her lips. My heart pounds wildly out of control.
Her body pauses for a brief moment before she succumbs, wrapping her fingers in my hair. The kiss deepens, her lips part, and I’m pushing my tongue inside of her mouth, exploring her in a wave of unrelenting passion.
With one hand on her waist and the other against the door, I pull her closer, tighter against me.
Bristol’s hands move from my hair down to my waist. She manages to spin us around, her tongue sliding across mine, and fuck, her fingers are digging into my hips, clawing at me.
She’s a beast. Had I known, I’d have kissed her years ago.
Swiftly and expertly, she opens the door, shoving me out into the hallway. “You have to go.”
Her lips are swollen, her breathing ragged.
I’m not sure how I even ended up out in the hallway, gasping, my heart thumping against my ribcage as she slams the door in my face.
My phone buzzes again. I ignore it. “Bristol.” I don’t knock, but I know she can hear me. She must hear me because she has to be thinking about that kiss.
She doesn’t answer.
I huff and walk down the hallway, as if I’m doing the walk of shame. I head for the elevator and glance at my phone—another text from Iris.
You still coming?
After what just happened between Bristol and me, I can’t.
I have to end things between us.
It feels wrong. And not because I haven’t kissed two girls in one night, although usually they’re in my bed.
It’s Bristol.
And she’s put me under some crazy spell, because everything I’ve ever experienced is pale compared to the feel of her lips sizzling on mine.
She’s a fucking witch, and I want more.