The word was a breathy plea when it slipped unbidden from my lips, and Clay froze, his heart beating hard enough I could feel it through his shirt as I pressed my hand into his chest and forced space between us.

“Meow,” I repeated, louder, firmer.

Recognition hit his face, and Clay paled, peeling himself off me with concern laden in his eyes. “Giana,” he tried, but I couldn’t look at him any longer.

I couldn’t be near him, couldn’t contain the fire roaring inside me.

I faked a smile, brushed a kiss against his cheek like I was fine just in case Maliyah or anyone else was watching. I stood as slowly and coolly as I could, fixing my hair and righting my skirt before I strolled toward the bathroom.

But as soon as I was out of eyesight, I took a hard left.

And I ran.

Chapter Eleven

Clay

My heart was a thunderous march of stallions in my ears as I weaved through the crowded party, eyes trained on Giana’s back. Her breaths were more haggard and uneven with every step, and when she disappeared around the edge of the kitchen only to take off in a full run for the door, I let out a curse, pushing past people to follow her.

I’d gone too far.

That safe word was never meant to be used, never meant to be anything more than a joke between us. But I’d pushed, taking advantage of her trust, giving in to my own selfish desire as playing with her in that party became less about Maliyah and more about seeing what noises I could get to come from that pretty mouth of hers.

I hadn’t meant to. I’d only intended to kiss her, to peek my eyes open at where I knew Maliyah was watching from the dance floor and show her just how moved on I was. But the more Giana opened for me, the more she writhed under my touch…

The less I was looking at anything or anyone else but her.

It was dizzying, her tongue against mine, the slick desire between her legs that I knew was from me. Like a drug addict, I was greedy for more.

And I didn’t think about the consequences.

Giana burst out into the night with me hot on her heels, catching the door before she could even slam it behind her.

“Giana!”

A few students who were gathered on the lawn parted as she sprinted through them, their questioning eyes finding me next as I chased after her.

“G, please, wait,” I called, but she kept running, around the front gate and down the sidewalk.

I followed, picking up my pace as my heart hammered like a kick drum in my chest. When I was a few steps behind her, I reached out, catching her by the elbow and slinging her to a stop.