Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

Then he sent two more on Sunday morning.

Sebastian: Do you want to meet in the forest for a morning run and other things? I miss your mouth already. If you want mine, just ask. *wink emoji*

A few hours later, he sent me a picture of himself, half-naked with droplets of water traveling down his cut abdomen.

He has two small tattoos—two lines of script at the top of his right pectoral muscle. One is in Arabic and the other is in Japanese.

I don’t understand the first, but the second is a saying in Japanese that literally translates to ‘The weak are meat; the strong eat.’ As in, survival of the fittest.

I can’t stop wondering about the reason he got it and if the Arabic words mean the same thing.

I totally didn’t ogle him, though. Okay, that’s a lie. I think I may have been staring at it since he sent it and that’s such a bad idea. Not only is he distracting, but the view has triggered memories of the night at the forest that I haven’t exactly been able to wipe from my head.

He also sent a text attached to the image.

Sebastian: You could be having a shower with me right now, but you’re a coward.

I’m not a coward, I’m just selective about my battles.

And judging by the way he triggered parts of me I didn’t even think existed, it’s safe to say Sebastian isn’t a battle I can take on right now.

Or ever.

Though I’m tempted to.

Really, really tempted and curious and confused.

But I didn’t reply to his texts. I just couldn’t.

So here’s the thing, I’ve always noticed Sebastian, but he’s shattered the image I had of him in my head. I thought he was like the rest of the football players but with some sort of baggage hidden behind his exotic eyes.

Turns out, the baggage is a perversion.

A sexual deviation.

Otherwise, why the hell would he get off on chasing me and coming all over my face afterward?

But instead of being disappointed in him and erasing him from my thinking, I’ve all but magnified him.

For reasons unknown, I’m interested in those parts of him.

In what made him the way he is.

In how he manages to hide it so well.

But most of all, I want to know why I reacted to it the way I did. Because when he took control of my mouth and smeared me with his cum? I burned to touch myself and relieve the ache that throbbed between my legs.

Something brushes against my arm and I jump, then release a breath when Lucy appears by my side. I remove my headphones, letting them hang around my neck. “Oh, it’s you.”

She studies her surroundings and the random students passing by. “Who did you think it would be?”

“No one.”

“I don’t think so. You’re not usually jumpy.”

“I stayed up late.” Which isn’t a lie. “So, traitor, where were you the entire weekend?”

“I told you Reina was having a sleepover at her apartment. Then I went with Mom and Dad to visit Grandma.”

I roll my eyes. “Did Reina make you drink enchanted potions of black magic made of her pubic hair?”

“Ew, no.” Lucy laughs. “It was cool. We talked boys and the squad.”

“Wow. I’m glad I missed the fun.”

“What did you do over the weekend? Besides worshipping serial killers?”

“Haha. Very funny. And that’s exactly what I did.”

She observes me closely as if it’s been ages since she last saw me. “Nothing else?”

“Nope.”

I wish I had the courage to tell her about Sebastian and the dubious things that happened in the forest.

Though we did talk on the phone about the kiss on TV. I called Sebastian a thousand names and cursed him to the darkest pits of hell. Poor Luce had to calm me down and bribe me by giving me her notes for the upcoming exam.

If I tell her that I met the asshole, sucked him off, and let him ejaculate all over my face, she might call me crazy.

Or perverted.

Or abnormal.

Truth is, I’m scared of admitting my feelings concerning everything that happened over the weekend. What if she thinks there’s something wrong with me? In our fucked-up society, men get away with it, but women are always judged for the tiniest perversion, even by other women.

Lucy is generally open-minded, but I’m not sure to what extent when it comes to that small part of sexual fuckery.

And it is a small part. I saw the promise for more in his eyes when he dropped me off that night, and I’m not sure whether I’m excited or terrified.

Maybe both.

Lucy lifts her shoulder. “If you say so.”

“I watched a weird indie movie, though.”

“Oh! What type?”

“Eh, there was a woman who went on a sexual discovery mission.”

She giggles. “Good for her. Maybe you should tag along.”

“Me?”

She taps my arm. “I love you, Nao, but you’re too uptight when it comes to sex.”

“It’s called being cautious.”

“Too cautious maybe.”

“Says the girl who only has sex with the lights off.”

“That’s not a prude thing. I just…don’t want to look at their faces.”

“Yeah, yeah, because you fantasize about Prescott fucking you, not whoever is there.”