Filthy Gods (American Gods 0.5)(8)

Asshole. “I swear I’m yours until the end of summer.”

And then like a savage, he took my mouth in a bruising kiss.

One of urgency and need and elegance.

I didn’t back down though. I kissed him back, my tongue battling his, my teeth nipping at that bottom lip I had fantasized about during our UN Model debates.

He groaned at the back of his throat when I dug my nails into his broad shoulders, anchoring me to him and he fought back by gripping my hips.

When he pressed me to him, I felt his hardening length in his slacks.

He let my mouth go and just as I was about to protest, his lips found my jaw and traveled down my throat. He took his time, kissing me in places that no man in my past had given so much attention to.

He pressed me against the bookshelves, the wooden structure and binds of the books digging into my back.

“What if someone comes in?” I asked between a kiss.

He nipped at my neck. “That might happen. The boys should be returning shortly.”

“What?” I yanked at his jacket. “I need to go. I can’t be seen here alone with you.”

He straightened, glowering at me, but reached into his pocket and handed me a key. “Come to my suite tonight. Around midnight. Don’t be late.”

I stared at the golden key in my palm and looked back up at him. His lips were swollen and pink and his perfect hair a bit tousled. Those ocean eyes darkening the longer I stared back at him.

My chest clenched at the sight.

“Fine,” I bit out and turned, not looking back.

As I made it back to the kitchen, I paused at the sight of Gabe.

His hands were shoved into his pockets and he watched me. I couldn’t read the look he was giving me, but it made my breath hitch.

Slowly, he turned and went beyond the dark double doors, most likely to join Nathaniel.

I shook my head.

I had agreed to a summer affair with my boss’s son and biggest rival.

A deal with the enemy.





Outside the suite, my bravery died on my tongue. I paced, knotting my fingers in my dark hair. I was giving him my dignity, but then he was the one keeping my dignity safe from the rest of the world. Our world. Or rather: his world.

While the rest of my class partied and consumed their weight in booze, I was studying or working or trying to do both at the same time.

I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t handed my success. And if that meant giving in to him, then so be it.

I had thought it over while I mopped the kitchen floor. Nathaniel was like a pressure point in my body. One look from him, one scalding hot glance, and my body reacted to him like oil and fire. We were combustible and a destructive force to both of us.

Whenever I was anxious, I went for a run. It helped relax me. I did it before every debate and I’d done it before coming here. But despite the exercise, the nerves still jolted through me.

I pivoted on my toes and faced the white door once more. The centerpiece in the middle stated it was the Dior suite.

The same room he’d caught me cleaning in.

I rolled my shoulders back, hiked up my chin and steeled my features. I was going in for war.

I pulled the key from my bag and slid it in, turning the knob slowly.

As I entered the darkened room, I heard the waves crash against the shore and looked at the white sheer curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze.

Standing in the center of the open balcony was Nathaniel. His suit jacket was gone and I scanned his torso, the white dress shirt fit nicely to his frame. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing the smooth skin of his arms and each time he moved them, veins bulged.

My mouth watered at the sight of the Adonis.

I thought of my study of ancient art and all I could picture was one of those Greek or Roman statues. Nathaniel, I hated to admit it, was sculpted by an artist who had taken the time to carve out delicate, but sharp cheekbones and lips that always looked swollen but soft. Eyes so vivid and dark that he must have stolen the clear night sky.

I had been careful before, never allowing my mind to wander too far away from my goals and never indulging in a fantasy of Nathaniel, but now that I had him before me and I knew we were going to use each other to destroy the lust between us, I ate in every detail.

And I was starving.

When I reached his face again, I noted he had been scanning me also.

His jaw ticked and he moved closer, leisurely, but with a clear goal in mind.

Me.

He stopped right in front of me, his head tilted so his eyes looked down at me. “You smell like fresh air.”

His voice was gravelly and low and it went straight to my core. He angered me, but he made my body pulse simply with a look, a twitch of his full mouth or a move of his lithe, dangerous body.

I ran a few fingers through my damp hair, playing with the ends. “I went for a run on the beach.”

His eyes narrowed. “To calm your nerves?”

I pinched the inside of my palm, hating how easily he read me. Just like in our debates. The arrogant asshole.

“Yes,” I bit out, figuring there was no point in lying.

“Pity.” His vivid eyes darkened, a corner of his mouth quirking ever so softly no one would have been able to detect it. But I had. Because I had spent the last three years analyzing his every move, his every word as we competed. “I like you rattled.”

Anger boiled inside of me and it took all of my energy not to snap back at him.