Page 123 of Under the Influence

“Don’t lie to me,” he says. “Please don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, the tears beginning to burn my eyes.

Frowning, he pulls away from me, dropping his hands from the sides of my face. “Do you want to end this?”

“No,” I sob.

“Then what is it, Lainey? I know Nash threatened you. What did he say? I can figure it out, I promise.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, “It’s not that simple, Dray.”

He pulls me into his chest. “Sure it is. I don’t want to fight him, but I’ll do anything for you, Lainey. If he has something on you, you can tell me. No matter what it is. You can tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

He’d do anything?

I sit down on my bed, sinking my head between my hands until they’re tangled in my hair. The problem is that it’s not what he has on me.

“I think I love you,” he blurts. “It’s too soon, I know, and that seems crazy, but I’ve never felt like this. I’m going crazy, Lainey. When we’re together, everything else seems so small. I just walked into a new school where I am everyone’s biggest rival but it feels like where I belong. That is because of you, baby.”

I practically swoon at the nickname, feeling a flutter deep in my stomach. He loves me?

A dozen different scenarios run rampant through my head. Do I tell him I love him? Jump his bones? Take his clothes off?

All of which seem like perfectly good predicaments to be in. His forehead lowers to mine, “Do you love me?”

Yes. Hell yes.

“Drayton—”

“Don’t think,” he rasps. “Do you love me, yes or no?”

“Yes,” I husk, the sensible part of my brain shutting totally down. Then it’s like slow motion. He eases me back onto my bed, claiming my lips, spreading my legs with his knee. My fingers slip between the waistband of his jeans, and he groans as I undo his fly. The sultry way he looks at me through his lashes does something I can’t even explain.

He pauses a second, but I reach down and pull the hem of his shirt over his head. His eyes are wild as he stares into mine.

“Lainey, are you… we can stop,” he rambles. “If we need to stop, we should stop now. My self-control is deteriorating.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I whisper. “I want it to be you.”

“Your parents?” he breathes heavily, his eyes sparkling under the permanent Christmas lights wrapped around my headboard.

“They won’t come in here. The door is locked.”

He lifts my shirt over my head, and I am currently thanking the Victoria’s Secret gods that I am wearing something cute underneath. This would be a horrible time to be in granny panties or a sports bra.

His hands roam against the lace of my bra, his eyes never leaving my chest. “Black is definitely your color,” he teases.

“Did you expect anything different?”

He chuckles low and greedy, lifting me enough to unclasp it, “No.”

The sweats I have on easily slip off, and he sits back on his knees, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

“Condom,” he assures, tossing it to the bed, pulling his jeans off, and I freeze, in a complete trance as I stare at him naked.

For the love of all things holy. The hotness. Abs that I would gladly stare at for the rest of my life.

I watch with hooded eyes as he rolls the condom on and leans down into me, nudging where I’ve never been touched like this.