Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

He’s watching me with an unnerving focus like he’s a ravenous predator salivating after his prey.

His attention slides down my body and I follow his gaze. Water still drips from my loose hair, creating rivulets down my skin. The towel barely hides the top of my breasts and stops at the middle of my thighs.

I cross my arms over my chest.

Standing in front of Aiden in nothing but a towel is about the worst situation I can be in.

Tipping my chin, I point at the door. “Get out or I’ll call for Coach.”

He continues measuring me up and down, not bothering to hide the sick desire from his features. “You said to meet you after school.”

“I meant outside, not in the locker room.”

He lifts a shoulder, his gaze finally sliding up to mine. “You didn’t specify the place. This is as good as any.”

“Get out. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Why not here?”

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

“No.”

“Damn it, Aiden. I can’t just talk when I’m only wearing a towel.”

His lips curve into a sadistic smile. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Are you shy?”

“Of you? Not a chance.”

“Hmm.” He tilts his head to the side. “Then are you afraid of temptation?”

“More like I want your attention nowhere near me.”

“Here’s the problem, Frozen.” He pushes off the locker and stalks towards me in cool, predatory strides.

Don’t step back.

Don’t you dare step back.

I can’t believe I have to remind myself to be strong and not allow Aiden to hurt me.

Then I remember that I kicked him in the balls and he might be here to take revenge.

A tremor shoots down my spine and my feet move back.

With every step back, he pushes forward like a hurricane.

Looming.

Unstoppable.

Dangerous.

Everything heightens.

My breathing becomes quicker and shallower. The droplets of water still coating my skin drip between the valley of my breasts, creating razor-sharp friction. My hold on the towel turns into a death grip.

My back hits the wall, and I startle, barely stopping a yelp from escaping.

Damn him and damn me for allowing him to affect me.

When I attempt to sidestep him, he plants a hand on the wall beside my head, caging me in.

He invades my personal space until all I can smell is his clean, straight-from-the-shower scent. He’s changed into the school’s uniform but didn’t bother with the jacket.

He’s only wearing a crisp white shirt that wraps around his narrow waist and is tucked haphazardly into the band of his trousers.

Then I realise I’m looking at his trousers and snap my attention back to his face.

Huge mistake.

This close, we’re almost breathing the same air. I can see the small mole at the corner of his right eye and the hollowness in said eyes.

His free hand reaches for my hair and he twirls a blonde strand between his fingers. “You didn’t ask for my attention but you’re getting it anyway, Frozen. All I could think about since yesterday was touching you again. I keep wondering how you’d feel with my hands fisted in your hair and my dick shoved deep down your throat.”

My lips tremble, falling open.

“Or how you’d feel beneath me as I fuck you until you pass out,” he continues in that casual tone. “Or how you’d taste when I tongue-fuck you or how —”

“Stop…” I meant it as a warning but it comes out as a helpless whimper.

An overwhelming, strange sensation takes over my body because of his crude words.

I wish it’s embarrassment or anger, but it’s far from it.

The bottom of my stomach tightens and heat pours all over my skin. My nipples pucker and strain against the towel until it’s slightly painful.

Aiden watches me with a tilted head as if he’s searching for something.

He always takes whatever he likes without asking for permission. Hell, he loves not having permission. It’s weird that he’s going as far as gauging my reaction.

“Are you wet, Frozen?”

It takes everything in me to jut my chin out. “No.”

“You’re not, hmm?” He releases my hair and drags his thumb at the bottom of my lip. “So you’re telling me that if I reach under the towel, you won’t soak my fingers?”

I clamp my lips shut around whatever voice that’s been clawing its way through.

“Maybe I should check, huh? Just to make sure.”

Keeping a hand around the towel, I plant the other on his chest. The word ‘stop’ hangs on the corner of my tongue, but knowing he’d probably take it as a challenge and continue, I swallow it back inside.

Instead, I say, “The only way you’ll be able to do that is if you knock me unconscious.”

“That’s both necrophilia and cheating. Neither interests me. When I bring you to orgasm, I want your face flushed red and your screams cutting through the air.”

“You really are sick.”

“And you’re really beginning to sound repetitive.”

His gaze drops to my naked shoulders and the hint of my scar surrounded by the hickeys he left.

“Aiden… don’t...” I warn. My nails dig into my palm as if my grip on the towel is my lifeline.