The phantom sensation of his mouth still burned on my skin when I woke up. My fingers went to my collarbone, tracing the tender spot where his teeth had left their mark. The memory came flooding back—the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, the low chuckle vibrating against my throat, the way he'd tossed my phone across the room like it was nothing. "No one gets to interrupt us tonight." His words echoed in the morning silence, and I could still smell the faint trace of pine and smoke that clung to my sheets.
I dressed carefully, choosing a shirt with a higher collar, but the fabric brushed against the bruise with every movement. A constant reminder. My body felt different—aware in a way it hadn't been yesterday. Every nerve ending seemed to remember the path his hands had taken.
The school hallway was a jarring return to reality. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, lockers slammed, and the chatter of students felt miles away from the hushed intensity of last night. I was trying to navigate the crowd, my mind still half-trapped in the dark, when a shoulder deliberately bumped mine.
"Sleep well after last night, little rival?"
Xie. His voice was a low purr meant only for my ear, but it slammed into me with the force of a physical blow. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He was already moving past me, but his eyes—dark and knowing—flicked down to the edge of my collar, to the shadow of the mark he knew was there. A mocking smirk played on his lips.
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Shut up."
He laughed, a soft, infuriating sound, and stepped back into my space. His fingers brushed the edge of my collar, a feather-light touch that made me flinch. "Aw, don't be like that." His voice lifted slightly, just enough to carry as another student, Ace, walked by. "Everyone will see the mark soon enough anyway."
Humiliation warred with a traitorous thrill. My heart hammered against my ribs. "Won't... you just freaking shut up."
In a flash, his hand closed around my wrist. His grip was firm, unyielding. He didn't ask; he pulled. He yanked me sideways into the nearest stairwell, the heavy door swinging shut behind us and cutting off the hallway noise. My back hit the cold concrete wall, and he caged me in with one arm, his body crowding mine. The space was dim, smelling of dust and old wax.
"Why should I?" His thumb found the tender spot on my collarbone through the fabric, pressing gently. His eyes were black pools of hunger. "You loved every second of what we did last night. Don't act like I'm the only one who wants more."
The bell rang, a shrill, intrusive sound that sliced through the tension. It was the end of the passing period. Class was starting.
He didn't move away immediately. Instead, he tugged me closer by the collar, his face dipping to mine. His lips connected with my jaw in a quick, biting kiss that was more possession than affection. "Go to class then," he murmured, his fingers brushing the mark one last time before he released me. The smirk was back, a permanent fixture on his face. "I'll meet you after school. Don't think you can avoid what we started."
He turned to leave, his movements lazy and confident. At the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. That wink. It was pure provocation. "Don't be late to our little meeting. I hate waiting, especially for you."
I couldn't form a coherent thought. My skin was on fire where he'd touched me. "...Fine."
"Good." He pushed the door open, and the light from the hallway silhouetted him for a moment. "I'll be waiting by the back gate. Don't keep me waiting long, or I'll just have to come find you in class."
Then he was gone. But the air in the stairwell was thick with him. The scent of pine and smoke clung to my clothes, a ghostly presence that followed me as I forced my legs to carry me to my last class. A constant, taunting reminder.
I slipped into the room just as the final bell rang, my pulse still racing. I focused on finding my seat, on breathing normally, on pretending my world hadn't just been tilted off its axis. I slid into the chair and dropped my bag, letting out a slow breath. Safe.
Then my breath caught. Stalled in my chest.
In the empty seat beside mine, leaning back with an infuriatingly familiar lazy posture, was Xie. A slow, sharp smirk spread across his face as my eyes met his. Under the table, the toe of his boot nudged my thigh.
"Looks like we share this class, little rival," he said, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to vibrate right through the wooden desk. "What a nice surprise."
It was no surprise. It was a trap. I could feel the eyes of other students on us, curious. We were rivals. Everyone knew that. Our constant bickering and competitive clashes were classroom legend. This new proximity was a glaring anomaly.
I stared straight ahead at the blackboard, refusing to acknowledge him. My whole body was tense, hyper-aware of his presence mere inches away. The teacher began calling roll, his voice a droning monotone. Then he moved on to the week's project—paired assignments for the upcoming dormitory stay.
My name was called. I straightened in my seat. And then, immediately after, the teacher called his. "Xie. You'll be with him."
A sharp kick connected with my ankle under the table. I flinched and turned. Xie was grinning at me, that sharp, knowing look in his eyes that made my stomach flip.
"Looks like we'll be sharing a dorm all week now," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Can't get rid of me that easily, rival."
The teacher turned to write the pairings on the blackboard. The moment his back was turned, Xie's hand slid onto my thigh. Not a grab, but a slow, deliberate placement. His fingers pressed lightly into the soft skin of my inner leg, inching higher with an agonizing slowness. I went rigid, my pen clattering from my numb fingers onto the notebook.
He leaned in, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear. "See?" he whispered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest when I jerked at the sensation. "Even the universe wants us to keep going where we left off last night."
My face was burning. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of his hand through the fabric of my pants. The teacher's chalk scratched steadily at the board, a sound that normally signaled boredom but now felt like a countdown. "...won't you just shut up," I managed to whisper, my voice strangled.
His fingers squeezed my thigh lightly, the pressure a promise and a threat. They inched higher still. At the same time, he dipped his head, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss right under my ear. I felt the smirk against my skin. "Why would I? I finally got you right where I want you. I'm not going to waste this chance."
Frustration and a humiliating flicker of arousal twisted together in my gut. I tried to kick his feet away from under the desk, a feeble attempt to reclaim some control.
He was faster. He caught my ankle between his own, pressing his leg firmly against mine, holding me trapped. His fingers continued their slow, maddening ascent. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my neck. "Still trying to fight me?" he murmured, his lips grazing my skin. "You know you're just gonna end up giving in anyway, pretty rival."
I squeezed my eyes shut. The classroom, the other students, the teacher—it all faded into a dull buzz. The only things that were real were the heat of his hand, the scent of him filling my lungs, and the memory of his body moving against mine. "Shut up..." The plea was weak, even to my own ears.
He finally pulled his hand back a fraction, but kept his leg pressed firmly against mine, a solid, warm line of contact. He picked up his pen, the picture of innocence as he pretended to take notes from the board. But he leaned in again, his breath a warm caress. "I'll shut up for now," he conceded, his tone anything but conceding. "Just you wait until we get to the shared dorm later."
I rolled my eyes, a desperate attempt at nonchalance. It was a pathetic defense, and he knew it.
He snorted softly, dropping his pen. He turned his head, nudging my jaw with his nose, the tip brushing lightly, familiarly, against my skin. "Roll your eyes all you want," he whispered, the mocking lilt back in his tone, laced with a dark certainty that made my breath hitch. "By the end of tonight, you'll be the one begging me not to stop."
I ignored him. Or I tried to. I focused on the chalkboard, on the meaningless diagrams, on picking up my pen with a hand that trembled slightly. I started writing notes, forcing my brain to process words, dates, formulas. Anything to drown out the symphony of sensation he was conducting on my body and the relentless, thrilling echo of his promise. The scratch of my pen was a feeble counterpoint to the roaring in my ears, a roaring that smelled distinctly of pine and smoke and tasted like inevitable surrender.
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments