Lords of Wrath (Royals of Forsyth University, #2)

by Angel Lawson

I tuck myself back into my pants before crouching down and tugging her into my chest. She goes willingly, even if she still won’t meet my gaze. Pressing my nose into her hair, I inhale her sweet scent. I want to say I’m sorry again. I want to thank her. I want to tell her that what’s happening inside my head is just as messy as that blow job was, and I’m not sure where this is going, but I know I want to keep it. It’s not like it was with Gen. Story isn’t an idea. She’s terrifyingly tangible. But that’s too much, too confusing. Instead, I say, “You’re more than any of us deserve.” Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. She doesn’t respond. “Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” I ask, stroking her hair from her shoulder. So that she’ll understand I’m not her brother, I press a kiss to her jaw, adding, “This isn’t an order. You can say no. We don’t have to do anything but sleep.” There’s a beat of silence, something strained about her breaths. I spend it preparing myself for the likelihood she’ll say no. That’s okay. I can handle it. I think. Instead, she whispers, “Okay.”