Lust (The Elite Seven #1)(35)

We walk in silence for a few beats, but it’s not uncomfortable, it just is.

Nudging me toward a treeline, she turns to venture through the thicket.

“Are you going to lure me in there and then have your way with me?” I drawl.

Slapping me playfully, she pushes me farther into the trees, the dirt caking our boots.

“If you mean kicking your ass, then maybe.”

“I might be into sadism,” I snigger out, walking farther into no man’s land.

“I think you’ll find that’s a masochist,” she points out, dodging tufts of growth.

Just when I’m about to ask her what the difference is, the trees open up and an old park emerges in a clearing. The terrain is covered in undergrowth, the framework of the slide and swing rusted by years of being unused. It’s spooky and kind of beautiful all in the same breath.

“Be careful of snakes,” she tells me, her southern drawl more potent when she talks about the dangers.

“Why is this here?” I ask, taking her hand to help her manoeuvre over some fallen branches.

“It was part of the Miller’s property in the late fifties. They died over two decades ago and their land was abandoned. This part was claimed back by nature. The house was vandalised and eventually torn down when a girl claimed she was attacked and taken there.”

Frowning, I sit on the swing next to her and try to move it. It protests loudly, but eventually begins to move, raining down orange on my head.

“That got dark,” I state, and she smiles, white teeth on display.

“Are you not scared to come here?” I ask, searching the woods as the sun sets. Everything drops in temperature, making the place twice as creepy as before.

“Why would I be? What are the odds of us both being serial killers?” she asks, narrowing her eyes on me.

It takes a few seconds, but we both burst into a fit of laughter.

I like her more and fucking more.

“Seriously, though, don’t come here on your own,” I warn, my protectiveness spiking, surprising us both.

“I won’t, I promise. This can be our place.”

Our place. I like that.

We talk for hours, about nothing, about everything, in the blue light from the full moon above. Soon, I know our night will come to an end, but I don’t want it to.

It’s so peaceful here away from the expectation and stress of school. Away from the reputation and rumors.

“Why are nice girls always attracted to bad boys?” she asks on the walk back to my car.

“Am I a bad boy?” I raise a challenging brow.

“The question you should be asking is, am I a good girl?” she counters as we slow to a stop by my car.

“Are you?”

The air between us is palpable. My skin hums with electricity as she closes the space between us. Looking up into my eyes, she murmurs, “I don’t want to be, when I’m around you.”

Her lips hover so fucking close, but so far. Cupping her face, I push my lips to hers, chaste and sweet, before backing away. “Then let me be the good one for both of us,” I tell her, ignoring the straining of my cock and the pulsing of my blood screaming at me like a bloodthirsty night crawler wanting to devour her whole.

She touches a finger to her lips, her eyes heavy and cheeks flushed.

“Goodnight, Rhett Masters.”

“Goodnight, Chastity Griffin.”

I watch her walk to her house and disappear from view before I release the breath I’d been holding and brace my arms against the roof of my car to steady my heartbeat.

I’ve honestly never felt this kind of need before, and of all people, it had to be with her.

I’m fucked.





The days pass in a haze of all things Chastity. She’s become my addiction, occupying my every thought. At school, she offers me coy smiles, followed by texts referencing Romeo and Juliet quotes or trivia.

Usually, this kind of shit would have me running for the hills, but not with her.

I’ve held off doing anything with her but a peck on her lips here and there, but there’s tension so thick between us, I’m sure the atmosphere around us shimmers with big signs stating how bad we want to fuck each other.

“Rhett, please put your phone away for a few seconds,” my dad says, nervousness catching in his voice.

He’s scared of me—no, not of me, of what I’m capable of. He knows I’m part of The Elite, or will be, because God isn’t subtle when talking about it when he’s here, which is less and less as of late. It’s my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied with Chastity.

“Sure.” I place my cell on the counter and sip the energy drink I opened an hour ago. It’s flat, but still quenches my thirst.

“Your mother will be coming into town at the weekend. She has some business. It might be nice for us all to have dinner…”

Acid floods my muscles and liquefies my heart. “Does she want that?” I hear the need in my voice. It’s not the tone of a grown man; it’s the voice of a little boy who still needs his mother and misses her.

“Yes. It was her idea.”

Her idea. She wants to go to dinner.

“Okay. Just let me know where and when.”

“Great.”




There’s a spring in my step and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Pride, who meets me at the coffee hut on campus.