Free Craving You (TBX #2) by Ashley Christin Page B

is a convincing smile takes over my face. Eyeing Brealynn from across the room, she gives me a knowing smile. Colt glances in our direction, his icy stare penetrating through me before he excuses himself. Walking away from their group, he heads into the kitchen. I don’t know what his deal is. His brother is the asshole, not me.
    Brad talks on and on about … well, him. The next half hour, I learn all about Mr. Cunningham without having another drink, and my buzz is wearing off quick. His major is business. His daddy owns a nationwide gun store that he plans on saddling up with right after graduation. Brad has his arm slung around my shoulder. Parker walks past us not once looking in my direction. I smile, lean in, and laugh like my life depends on it right before my lips hurriedly meet his. Startled, Brad quickly recovers and an arm snakes around my lower back, pressing me to his body. Cracking one eye open as he assaults my mouth, I locate Parker heading up the stairs to the game room, unaffected. He can just walk right by me making out with someone else? It doesn’t fucking gut him like it did to me? Untangling myself, the effect of what I just did hits me hard. I feel dirty and used, even if I was the one using Brad. It just doesn’t feel right. This feeling—the dirt I want to wash off my body, grime that’s seeping into my blood, this label on my forehead that reads easy—is what I’ve tried my hardest to avoid. I use them and toss them aside before they can do the same to me.
    Brad’s face sports a lazy grin before I take off up the stairs without a response. My anger flares to a level I didn’t even know existed. The last step comes within reach when Parker casually tells Tim he will play in the next pool game, as if I don’t matter, as if we don’t matter; I lose all the control I was clinging to. With all my strength, I charge him hands held out from my body and shove with all my might.
    “I hate you!” Although my voice is loud, it isn’t believable; the pain evident in the crack. All eyes in the room land on us. He quickly grabs my arm pulling me into his bedroom. How fucking convenient.
    “No, you don’t.” His voice is commanding and all knowing. I try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall at any moment. My eyes burn and begin to blur.
    “I just wanted you to know that I hate your guts, and I’m going to fuck Brad tonight. Do you hear me? I’m going to fuck you right out of my system!” An emotional scratch invades my throat with my shaky declaration. Turning on my heel, I leave before the tears fall.
    “The fuck you are!” His voice strong with authority booms through the room and vibrates through me.
    My body stills before I yell, “Watch me!” and begin back down the stairs. “You better fuckin’ not!”
    His threat is void.
     

     
    After another thirty minutes of flirting and faking interest in Brad, we make our way up to my room. I’ve refilled full of alcohol, so I’m hoping this goes smoothly. I feel every bit of the slore I look like walking up the stairs hand in hand with him. Eyes follow me and I dismiss it and allow Brad into my room.
    Once we pass the threshold, I move to shut my door and miss. Damn, am I that drunk? Whirling around, I see that my door is completely missing. Stomping out of my room like my father just grounded me by removing my door, I have one target in mind. Sitting with a cocky smile on the side of the pool table is Parker perched on a barstool, pool stick in hand. I get right in his face, fuming.
    “Give me my door back, you lunatic!” I ground out.
    I can smell the mint and alcohol mixing on his breath when he leans in and says, “No.” The whisper of his words against my skin further pissing me off and turning me on at the same time.
    “Fine, I’ll fuck him in the closet or … the bathroom.” I’m hoping my low tone was only heard by him. In a jolt, he’s left the barstool and stands just inside my room.
    “Get the fuck out of my