“You’ve given some pretty convincing arguments, but you’re still a long way from winning me over.” “I haven’t even really tried,” he said, in a rare moment of arrogance. “When I want to, I can be very persuasive.” “Yeah? Prove it.” His lips moved toward mine. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I haven’t even really tried to win you over, Roza. When I want to, I can be very persuasive.”

“How grateful are you?" he whispered, his mouth hovering over mine. His eyes were very alert now, and his gaze was boring into mine."That kind of ruins it, when you say something like that," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. "You shouldn't want me to have sex with you just because I owe you.""I don't really care why you have sex with me, as long as you do it," he said, equally gently.”

“That is why I came to school here,” Connor said pointedly. “I don’t think I could stand being more than a few miles away from you.”“That and the football,” I said, grinning at him. He smirked back at me before kissing me lightly on the lips. “Yeah, that too, but if I had to chose, you’d win out over football any day.”

“See, Don, I have this question, and I hope you’ll be honest with me.”He pulled at the end of his eyebrow. “I think you know you can count on my honesty.”“Can I?” I asked with an edge. “All right, then tell me: How long have you been fucking me?”That caused him to stop tugging his brow. “I don’t know what you’re saying—”“Because if I was going to fuck you,” I interrupted, “I’d get a bottle of gin, some Frank Sinatra music…and a crash cart for the heart attack you’d have. But you, Don, you’ve been fucking me for years now, and I haven’t gotten any liquor, music, flowers,candy, or anything!”

“I know,” Aren says. “But I wanted to apologize. I don’t want Taltrayn to convince you I’m the bad guy.”At that, I give a short laugh. “You are the bad guy, Aren.”He frowns, and I realize he’s taking my words the wrong way.“What I mean is you’re the . . . well, the rebel. Kyol’s the good guy. He’s made mistakes, yes, but he loves me.”He cocks his head to the side. His gaze makes my skin tingle. The step he takes toward me is hesitant, careful, and when his silver eyes peer down at me, I stop breathing. His lips are so close. I remember the way they felt pressed against mine. I remember his taste, the heat of his edarratae.The smallest distance separates us when he whispers, “You don’t think I’m in love with you?”“I . . .”