Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)

Briar’s roommate, Lydia, meets me at the door with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.

“I know,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “If she told you anything about the train wreck my family is…”

She sighs and holds her apartment door open wider, allowing me to pass. “She’s sleeping.”

“I figured.” I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks for not slamming the door in my face.”

Lydia points to the coffee table, where two phones sit. “She left her phone out here when she went to bed, and it kept lighting up rather insistently with your texts. So…”

Right.

I did go a little crazy with the texts as soon as my father was finished. Just more bullshit about how embarrassed he was with this girlfriend stunt, and then about how I’d better enjoy my last season of football.

Because, according to him, my time to fuck around is coming to a close.

One more year left of school, but no football?

He said he would buy the university a whole building to keep me from playing. What administration will be able to resist that? Millions of dollars, just to bar me from the field.

My dreams flushed down the toilet.

I push away my anger and leave Lydia behind, creeping down the hall and entering Briar’s room carefully. I nearly trip over a black pot placed right in the opening. It has a few metal utensils balanced on it. One touch and it would cause quite the ruckus.

My brows furrow.

I click on my phone’s flashlight and illuminate the room, curious about the booby trap. I close the door behind me and step farther in, first taking in Briar’s still form buried under the blankets, then the rest of the room.

A mini hockey stick catches my attention. It’s wedged into the upper portion of the window to prevent the lower pane from opening. There’s an actual hockey stick leaning in the far corner. A gleam of gold in the light pulls my attention, and I move to her desk.

It’s a trophy.

I lean down and scan the plaque at its base. She won Most Valuable Player last year.

Wow.

Of course she did. She’s fucking impressive.

Which makes me want to wake her up and tell her she’s impressive. Not just for the hockey award, although that is cool. But also for being herself, and not caving to my parents’ bullshit, and for surviving dinner with a smile intact.

And also, I wouldn’t mind finishing what we had started earlier…

I peel back her covers and lean over her. She looks so peaceful, I almost don’t want to disturb her. Almost.

I touch her shoulder.

She wakes immediately, but her gaze doesn’t focus on my face. Her lips part, her eyes widen. Instead of shrinking away, she grabs my wrist and hauls.

Not expecting it, I lose my balance and topple. She grips my shoulders and uses her legs, twisting, and suddenly I’m on my back, and she straddles me.

Her breathing is ragged, and something sharp presses into my throat.

Holy shit.

“Briar,” I rasp. “It’s me.”

My palms land on her thighs, sliding up to her hips, then her waist. The prick of pain wakes me up, but she doesn’t seem to understand—or see.

“Kitten. Focus on me.”

She blinks, focusing on me. My phone lies facedown somewhere to the side, the flash illuminating the room. It helps me see the moment she realizes what she’s done.

I wrap my fingers around her hand and the knife, moving it away from my throat.

“Thorne,” she gasps. “Oh God.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“You’re bleeding!” She tosses the knife and stares down at me. “And I…”

“Performed some cool moves,” I finish, attempting humor. I move her back a little, until she’s sitting on my thighs, and sit up. “I’ve gotta say, though, I’m concerned about why that’s your first reaction to someone waking you up.”

She stiffens.

I tuck her hair behind her ear, then carefully straighten her shirt. Her shorts are twisted, too. Once I’m done fussing, she lets out a sigh. She climbs off me and stands beside the bed, her expression wary.

I scoot back until I can rest against her headboard, then pat my lap. “Come back here.”

“I just… you’re bleeding.”

I touch my throat, and my fingers come away dotted with blood. “I’m not going to die from a scratch. Come. Here.”

She exhales and relents. She crawls toward me and slowly swings her leg over my lap. My hands automatically find her bare thighs, and my fingers creep down toward her knee. We’ve been working on strengthening exercises, and it seems to be helping. Forward progress is usually slow in the beginning—excruciatingly so. But she hasn’t given up on me.

I find the rough, scarred skin, and she shivers. It doesn’t bother me—not how she thinks.

It kills me that this happened to her.

But I’ve never been disgusted by her scars. The thought that someone made her think they should be hidden twists my stomach.

“So.” I knead her legs. “The pot and forks? The mini hockey stick?”

She bites her lip.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I don’t know why, but I do.”

“Then trust me.” I lean in and steal a quick kiss. “And that’s my lip to bite, kitten.”

Her breathing hitches. “Bossy.”

“If you want bossy, then tell me what’s going on.” The need to know is going to drive me insane.

“I…” She shudders. “You know about the fire.”

“I do.”

“Well… it wasn’t an accident.”

I straighten. “What?”

Her gaze slides away from me. “There was someone there that night. They started the fire and they—they saw me coming, trying to get out, and slammed the door in my face.”

Tears fill her eyes.

I tug her to my chest, the horror echoing through me. I cannot imagine what that would’ve been like. The fear of it.

I know fear.

My father made me an expert in fear.

But this? To be alone…

“The building filled with smoke and fire so fast, and there was no choice. I ended up back in the room I was working in, and then I just…”

“It’s okay.” I cup the back of her head, her cheek on my chest. I try to remember to breathe. “He can’t hurt you.”

She pulls back slowly. “That’s the thing, Thorne. He can.”

My confusion must be apparent, because she scrambles off me and goes to her desk. She rummages around in one of the drawers, then flicks on the lamp and returns to me. She holds out a note sealed tight in a Ziploc bag.

Stop looking.

Or you’ll be the one soaked in gasoline.

My heart beats faster. “Someone left this for you?”

“Not just someone. The guy who freaking left me to die.” She balls her fists. “He got in here—I⁠—”

“Hey.” I set the note aside and catch her hand. “Hey, hey. He snuck in like a coward when you weren’t here. But I’m here now, kitten.”

She swallows. I’ve never seen her look so forlorn.

“I just don’t want him to hurt you, Cassius.”

I close my eyes. I hate to admit that I like it when she says my first name. It’s like a balm instead of the rough reprimanding tone my parents use.

Speaking of parents…

“I hope the dinner didn’t scare you away.”

She meets my gaze, and the corner of her lips lifts. “Me? Scared of some rich old snobs? Never.”

“Good.” I run my thumb across her knuckles. “Then you need to get naked immediately.”

She backs away from me and grabs the hem of her shirt. She lifts it slowly, revealing her toned abdomen, then her bare breasts. I swing my legs off the bed and scoot forward, but I manage to keep my hands to myself—for now.

Briar swivels around, giving me a view of her back, and hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her sleep shorts. She leans forward and drags them down. I swallow hard, the view of her perfect ass almost too much.

My dick is standing at attention, pressing against my sweatpants.

I stand, too, and kick them off. Along with the rest of my clothes.

She meets me in the middle of the room, and she puts her palm on my abs.

“A six-pack just isn’t fair,” she murmurs.

I flex harder, grinning.

“Make that eight.” She sighs. “Fuck me.”

“That’s the plan, kitten.”

I skim the side of her neck and catch her hair in my hand. Using it to pull her head back, I lean down and kiss her hard. My other hand palms her breast, and I pinch her nipple. Roll it between my fingers. She moans into my mouth, and I shift forward. My dick brushes her stomach.

Beds are overrated.

I release her breast and hair and grip her hips, lifting her. I cross the room and put her back against the wall next to the door—barely missing the pot contraption—and raise her higher.

She wraps her legs around my waist. The heat of her cunt is an almost unbearable turn on, and I groan when the tip of my cock slips through her arousal. I do that a few times, teasing us both, then carefully notch it.

“Ready?”

She nods, the movement quick and jerky. “Please get inside me.”

I grin.

Thrust.

Her warmth envelops me, and I sit in it for a second. Then draw out and slowly push back into her.

“Fuck me.” Briar holds on to my shoulders, but her hands slip toward the back of my neck, then into my hair. Her nails scrape at my scalp. “You stretch me so good. I could die of happiness.”

“You? Happy?” I continue my slow movements. “That might be the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She sighs.

I kiss her neck, finding the sensitive spot I was working on earlier. I suck at it, then skim it with my teeth. I want her marked for the whole school to see. I want to do a lot of firsts with her.

Public affection.

Spend the night in her bed.

Call her mine for good.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

I drag my lips down, over her collarbone, to her breast. She gasps when I suck her nipple into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. My hand returns to her other one, paying it just as much attention, until she writhes against me.

To my shock, her body tenses, and her head falls back. She clamps around me, the orgasm sweeping through her body.

“Holy shit.” I raise my head. “Did you just come from me playing with your tits, kitten?”

She blinks at me, slow and dazed. “That, uh, hasn’t happened before.”

Fuck yeah.

Another first.

“Cassius?”

“Yeah?”

“You stopped fucking me.”

Right.

“Sorry, kitten.”

I resume, my pace quick. I chase my pleasure and hers, my fingers going straight to her clit. Some part of me is after the release—but another, more selfish part, just wants her to say my name again. In wonder. In ecstasy.

I roll my hips, hitting a new angle inside her, and her eyes flutter. Her nails dig into the back of my neck. We wind tighter and tighter until⁠—

There.

Her mouth opens, her eyes squeeze shut. Her cunt pulses around me, and it’s just enough to push me over the edge, too.

It isn’t until I’m spent, my body pressing hers to the wall, that I realize I didn’t use a condom. I pull out of her and slowly lower her feet to the floor.

“Briar—”

“I noticed,” she whispers. “I’m on birth control. And, um, I’m clean.”

My shoulders snap back. “I am, too. Clean. Not on birth control.”

She cracks a smile, but it’s tired. I follow her into the bathroom and wash up while she uses the toilet.

It’s weirdly not weird.

And after that, I hand her shirt back to her, turn off my phone’s flashlight and the lamp, and climb into bed with her.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s what makes it so goddamn terrifying.