Chapter 3 – Thomas #2
I’ve never known anyone to get away with talking to Jude Fox like that, except perhaps Amina.
(Never mind if you don’t know her, just trust me.) If I were Clover, I would watch my back talking to a Fox like that.
If I were Clover, I’d watch my back in general.
She hasn’t even noticed me staring across the room.
I don’t mind – the staring, or her ignorance.
I can get to know her just as easily watching her as talking to her.
Talking to her feels like sticking my cock into a wolverine cage anyhow.
She has absolutely no refinement about her.
Another thing dad would hate, aside from her skin color.
I don’t like the way she spoke to me in the dance studio and the way she refused to meet my gaze with her nostrils all flared out and her hands on her hips.
Sassy. To put it mildly. She sends a current of fury through me.
It’s been ages since a woman responded to me like that.
Women love me now that I’m large, muscular, tall.
Luck of genetics that I grew out of my awkward phase, and here she is, making me feel rather unlucky.
Her friend Kola touches her exposed shoulder.
(Clover would look great with a tattoo there.) Clover turns, nearly sloshing her drink, as Kola points to a tall dark gentleman – a Brit.
Jamal. He has famous and incredibly wealthy parents, but that’s all I know about him.
He lives a couple doors down and despite his height, he refuses to join the rowing team.
I dunno what her friend says, but Clover nods and then Kola darts off towards Jamal, leaving Clover standing there with her drink alone.
My stomach lurches as I nearly rush for her.
No. I need to be patient. I should have told Kit what I was feeling earlier, how I got this dull throb in my stomach from the moment I saw this girl.
I couldn’t help but feel like I would do the same thing all over again.
If I touch her, I’ll ruin her. I’m not her only suitor, however.
They don’t make me jealous or anything, but I feel a ripple of fury that someone else gets to touch what’s mine.
She gazes down at her cellphone, causing a stab in my chest as I imagine some hairy bloke (I dunno why he’s hairy, but he is) texting her and demanding her knickers.
She could meet anyone in a bathroom at this party and part her legs for them.
My heart catches in my throat imagining that horrible outcome.
It could be Jude for all I know and she’ll duck out of here and end up in another man’s bed.
Fuck’s sake. Go over to her, Thomas. Don’t just watch.
She giggles at her phone and then slips it in her pocket, wandering away from the table.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore, and I follow her, my heart beating out the syllables of her name.
Clo-ver. Clo-ver. Clo-ver. My throat tightens as she turns down a hallway of the rented mansion with a sign in front of it – the loo.
The coke loos are upstairs and the dirty loos closer to the front door.
This hallway is dark and silent. The perfect place to hunt for anyone with ill intentions.
Why isn’t Clover for careful? She stumbles against the wall, already a little tipsy and then she mutters, “Oh shit” under her breath.
She doesn’t realize how close I am, moving softly across the marble in navy formal socks behind her.
Suddenly, Clover stops and I know she hears me breathing because fuck, I’m breathing loud.
“Hello?”
There’s no point in hiding. It’s not like I’m afraid. She might get angry, but a woman that small could never hurt me and even if she tried, I could overpower her.
“Clover.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Hanging.”
“In a dark hallway. Behind me. Breathing like a musk ox,” she snaps.
She doesn’t have to make me sound so hideous. A musk ox? I’m nothing like a musk ox.
“Yes.”
“You can go away now. I’m looking for the bathroom.”
She says bathroom instead of loo. Fuck, I love her accent. She ties my fucking tongue. Then again, who doesn’t? I hate talking.
“Yeah.”
“Seriously, what the hell are you doing here, creeper?”
I’m watching you. I’m imagining putting my hands on your hips and having you ride my cock. I want to put my finger in your mouth. I want to touch the fur on your cunt and spread you open with my lips. I want to do so many dirty fucking things to you while you scream.
My cock stiffens as all the filthy fucking thoughts I’m trying to suppress roll through my head. I have to say something that’s not completely stupid.
“Someone could get hurt from what you’re doing.”
“Excuse me?”
Fuck, her voice drips with loathing. That doesn’t stop me. My heart quickens and I want to keep going. Keep talking. Keep pushing her. If she’s smart, she’ll get away from me before I make this interaction worse. I’m guaranteed to fuck it up.
“Sleeping around at a small school. I don’t advise it. Especially since you’ve nearly done… 20% of my team?”
Clover’s hands fly to her hips. “Is that any of your damn business?”
“No. I suppose not.”
She scoffs at me and shakes her head, struggling to prop her weight up against the wall. How much did she have to drink? I wouldn’t advise a woman her height drinking so much at a party.
“I’m leaving.”
See? I fucked it up again. Why am I such a twat?
“Fine. Yeah. Go on.”
She storms past me and I feel like I don’t want to let her walk away from me. But I have to. I have to let her go, because the urge surging me is anything but pure. I’m alone with her in a hallway and I have my chance to hurt her and fucking hell… I want to.
I can’t control myself once she leaves, I need a drink. I told myself before the party that drinking would only make the urges worse, but I can’t resist my urges for her sober. I’m not strong enough.
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