Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(27)

Just what the hell was Colton Gamble turning me into?

Pissed at myself, tired of acting like someone else, and ready to just be done with all this guilt and crappiness, I muttered to myself as I turned right back around and stormed into the history building. How dare he do this to me?

Okay, fine, I was doing it to myself. But it made me feel better to blame him, so yeah, damn Colton. He was not going to get away with ignoring me or being cold and indifferent. That was my role! We were not allowed to switch places.

Since over a hundred other people were trying to exit the building while I was darting back inside, it took me a while to work against the flow of traffic and make my way toward the lecture hall. I scanned faces and popped up onto my tippy toes, even though I was already wearing some decent-sized heels to spot him in case we passed each other. But he hadn’t passed this way yet, so that meant he’d either gone to another classroom in the building, hadn’t left the lecture hall yet, or crap…maybe he’d gone out a different exit.

Hoping it wasn’t the last option, I turned a corner, only to skid to a halt when I spotted him waylaid by a petite little brunette in the shortest skirt and skimpiest top. She stood close enough to him, doing all the talking and motioning with her hands, that he had to crane his face down to even meet her gaze. But he nodded, letting her know he was listening.

Their conversation looked intimate.

Something vile and painful passed through my stomach. An unnatural chill rushed up my arms and I either wanted to scream and charge, pulling her hair, or scream and run away crying and pulling my own hair. The two urges were so swift and strong they caused me to press a hand to my chest and suck in a hard breath.

I didn’t like this. I didn’t like how seeing them together made me feel, what it made me want to do. What’s worse, there was no reason for it. I was being utterly absurd. Unnerved by how I was feeling, I whirled away just as Colton lifted his face and turned his attention to me.

He had to have seen me, but hopefully he wouldn’t know I’d been trying to hunt him down and…I don’t even know what I would’ve said to him if I’d gotten hold of him: that I wanted to go back to being the way we were before we’d made out, where he flirted and smiled, and I acted like I didn’t like him?

Yeah, I couldn’t tell him that.

I was hustling down the hall as fast as my heels could carry me when I heard a call. “Hey!” It sounded like Colton, so I didn’t stop or even glance back. I might’ve even hurried my pace a bit, until the voice added, “Radcliffe.”

Dammit. Gritting my teeth and unable to ignore my name, especially since I realized I was running away again, I slowed to a stop and inched around, lifting my eyebrows with question.

When all he did was lift his hands as if silently asking, “What’s the deal?” I glanced behind him for her, but the girl he’d been talking to was nowhere in sight.

“Where’d your friend go?” I blurted out without thinking.

He had the gall to look confused. “What friend?”

“The girl,” I bit out. “The one you were talking to just now.”

“Oh.” He glanced behind him too, as if expecting her to pop out from behind a bench or something. Then he came back around and shrugged. “I didn’t even know her. She approached me after class to ask me about study groups or something. I don’t know.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Was she the one you needed to talk to?”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “Why did you follow me?”

“It looked like you wanted to talk to me? Why the hell did you take off? You looked upset. Kind of sad, and maybe pissed, but mostly just upset.”

Narrowing my eyes and stepping closer, I poked a finger toward his chest. “Well, you’re insane if you think I’m going to admit I was jealous of her.”

“Whoa!” Lifting his hands, he took a step away. But then he paused and hummed deep in his throat. “Jealous, huh? I didn’t even mention the word jealous. Didn’t even think it, actually. Why would you bring up the word jealous?”

I froze, internally cursing myself. Now he was going to think—

Gasping when he stepped right up into my personal space and set a hand against the wall near my head, half caging me in, I looked up into his intense brown eyes and lost myself. Everything about him was just so loud. It blared through me, taking control of my heartbeat, of my breathing, of my hormones.

“Or maybe I should ask why you’d be jealous of some girl talking to me.” His voice was low and reverberated through my ovaries, making them tingle and contract with lust. But then he added, “I’m not Brandt.”

My mouth fell open. I was half tempted to punch him in the gut and half tempted to burst into tears. After a hard, painful swallow, I lifted my chin and sucked it up. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“I suppose you do,” he murmured. The words were biting but the tone was not. He spoke too softly to be condemning and besides, the way his gaze traveled over my face was in no way bitter. He looked at me as if he wanted me for dinner.

My body heated in the most inappropriate, but pleasant places.

I wondered what he’d do if I lifted up onto my toes and kissed him.

“So why did you want to talk to me?” he asked, returning his gaze to my face after he did a slow, thorough body check of the rest of me.