The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(44)

Seriously, at this point, my mind is gone, spinning away into oblivion. I'm just a ball of emotion with no logicality left.

That harsh yearning inside of me spirals into a crescendo as Tristan sweeps my mouth with his tongue. His kiss is as sharp and cold as he is, but it's threaded through with white-hot molten fire. If I can melt that outer steel of his, and dig down to what lies beneath … he'd be a fucking firestorm. His fingers grip my hips on either side, digging in just enough that it both hurts and feels good at the same time.

I'm reminded of winter formal, and that night on the boat. "Just remember that Creed isn’t the only one that’s interested." The way he kissed me then, and the way he's kissing me now … are the same.

It wasn't all bullshit, was it? The way I felt like I belonged when we all sat together at the table? That was real. It was real. It was fucking real.

Tristan pulls back, and puts his forehead to mine, breathing hard.

And then he jerks away like he's been burned, storming across the seating area toward his room.

He's running away.

"Stop." Just that one word from me. I don't even have to shout it. The meaning is clear enough in that single syllable.

Tristan pauses and glances back at me, pupils dilated, the gray of his eyes burning like barely banked embers.

"What?" He sounds like he's about to snap. He definitely needs time alone to decompress, that's for sure. But not until he answers my question.

"Are you interested? A kiss isn't an answer. I want to hear it in words." I lift my chin and Tristan turns around, nostrils flaring with anger. He closes his eyes and glances away like he's in pain.

"I've already taken on my father's wrath for you, forsaken my family fortune, isn't—"

"Not an answer." My heart is beating so fast, and I can feel the other guys watching me carefully. I stare him down and I wait. Lizzie isn't far from my mind in that moment, but all I can do right now is start here, with a simple answer to my question. If he is interested in Lizzie, that's a choice he'll have to make on his own. If he cares about her then … he has to decide that. I can't force him.

"Yes."

Just that one word.

It feels like a challenge.

"Shame. I was looking forward to a challenge.”

He said that to me, once upon a time, the very first day we met.

Looks like he's going to get what he wanted.

"The five of you …" I start, still sitting on the edge of the sofa table. "You're going to have to fight for me if you want me. But not with fists or bets or bullshit. I mean you're going to have to let down your barriers, and spend time with me."

"Marnye," Zack starts, voice soft, but I hold up my hand. I'm not done. My cheeks are flaming with embarrassment, and my body's on fire in a way it's never been before. If I don't get this out now, I won't be able to.

"For what you've done to me," I give Windsor a semi-apologetic glance. Technically he's done nothing but be a friend to me. The thing is, I know, I know he has ulterior motives. Nothing he does is pure and simple or without calculation, so I'm sorry, but he's going to have to play along, too. "For what you've done to me," I repeat, "you're all going to … have to court me at the same time."

"Court you?" Zayd says with a small, tight grin. "So old-fashioned."

"You're going to have to date me, at the same time, all five of you." I exhale, close my eyes, and lean my head back against the wall. I need … something to decompress from all of these emotions. I lift my head and open my eyes, scanning their faces. Their emotions range from bemused—Windsor—to cold fury—Creed—and everything in between. "No other girls." My voice gets hard on that last bit. "I mean it. If I see you with another girl—”

"I haven't touched another girl since first year," Tristan says, and my eyes go wide. He was a bit of a slut. Do I even believe what he's telling me right now? "So that's fine. I don't care. Anything else?" He's all business right now, but … maybe in a good way? He sounds like he does in class, like he's taking notes and figuring out the best way to get an A, to win.

“I …” I start, but my mind is going totally blank. “No, I think that's it. We date, and we do … whatever we'd do if we were just dating each other. That's … that’s all I've got."

I jump down, sprint into my room, and lock the door behind me.

I only stand there long enough to catch my breath before I change into my swimsuit, throw on a robe, and head downstairs to the pool.

It's ice-cold when I jump in, but it clears my head.

That's all I need right now, a clear head.

And the equivalent of a cold shower.

A very cold shower.



Later that night, I'm lying on the giant king bed all by myself, watching some stupid late night TV which is kind of a treat for me considering Burberry's no outside electronics policy. I mean, sometimes on weekends, I watch stuff on my phone, but it's nice to have a big TV for a change.

Just as I'm fumbling around for the remote to turn it off, I hear a creak and a crash, and then Zack cursing furiously.

Pushing up from the bed, I pad over and crack open the door that separates my bedroom from the sitting area.