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Liora’s POV

The shower didn’t help at all.

I stood under the water until it ran lukewarm, my forehead pressed against the cool tile, replaying every single second of that study session on a loop I couldn’t shut off. Declan’s voice. Silas leaning in close enough that I could feel his breath. Jasper’s jaw tightening like I’d accidentally seen something he didn’t mean to show me.

Twelve days, I told myself, scrubbing the conditioner out of my hair harder than necessary. You just have to survive twelve days, get their grades up, get your tuition paid, and get out.

It sounded so simple when I said it like that. It didn’t feel simple standing in a shower that probably cost more than my entire dorm room, in a penthouse owned by three men who had already proven they’d burn my whole life down just to prove a point.

By the time I climbed into the unfamiliar bed in my borrowed room, sleep wasn’t happening. I lay there for almost an hour, staring at the ceiling, my stomach twisting itself into knots every time I thought about the way my body had betrayed me at that table. The heat that had crawled up my neck. The way I’d pressed my knees together under the desk like that would actually stop anything.

This is a nightmare, I thought. A really, really inconvenient, humiliating nightmare that I somehow have to live in for the next two weeks.

Around midnight, my stomach finally won the argument against my pride. I hadn’t eaten since the diner shift the night before, and my body was done pretending that was fine. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt over my sleep shorts, told myself nobody would be awake at this hour in a house this big, and crept out into the hallway.

The penthouse was dark except for the low glow of the city bleeding in through the windows. My bare feet barely made a sound against the cold marble floor as I padded toward the kitchen, already mentally rehearsing exactly how fast I could grab something and disappear back into my room without running into any of them.

Of course, the universe wasn’t done laughing at me tonight.

The kitchen light was on. Jasper stood at the counter in a plain gray t-shirt and sweatpants, sleeves shoved up his forearms, pouring water into a coffee maker like it was the middle of the afternoon instead of well past midnight.

He heard me before I could retreat. His head turned, blue eyes locking onto mine across the kitchen island, and any hope of a quiet, unnoticed snack run died instantly.

“Couldn’t sleep, Kitten?” he asked, his voice low, rough at the edges the way voices get late at night. “Why are you here?”

“I was hungry.” I crossed my arms over my chest, chin lifted. “Didn’t realize I needed permission to eat in a house I got blackmailed into living in.”

“You don’t.” He didn’t move or soften. “Watch the tone, though. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“You’re never in the mood. It’s practically your brand.”

He grinned darkly. “So you know me well enough to know not to run your mouth around me.”

He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Tell me, Kitten. Just how long have you been watching my brothers and me?”

“Watching you?” I snorted. “Why would I want to watch any of you? It’s not like there’s anything remarkable about you. Apparently, you’re all just very popular for your bad behavior.”

Something flickered behind his eyes, sharp and unreadable.

“Careful.”

“Or what?” I stepped closer without meaning to, some reckless part of me refusing to back down even now, exhausted and half dressed and completely out of my depth. “You’ll have your dean throw me out again? Oh wait. You already used that one.”

He set the mug down slowly, and came around the island toward me.

“You have a mouth on you,” he said, voice dropping, “for someone who has absolutely nothing left to bargain with.”

“Someone has to keep you in line, Jasper Kensington.”

“Is that what this is?” He kept coming until I hit the edge of the counter, nowhere left to go, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “You keeping me in line?”

“Someone should try.”

“Good luck with that.” His hand landed flat on the counter beside my hip, caging me in without quite touching me. I could feel exactly how close he was, how hard, pressed just barely against my stomach when he leaned in another inch, and my breath caught before I could stop it.

“Jasper.”

“I don’t like girls who talk back,” he said, low, almost casual, like he wasn’t crowding every inch of space I had left. “You know why?”

I couldn’t answer. My pulse was too loud in my own ears.

“Because it turns me on.” His mouth was close enough now that I felt the words more than heard them. “Every time you open that mouth to fight me, all I can think about is how many ways I could shut it.”

Heat crawled up my neck, my whole body humming with something I refused to name. I tipped my head back without deciding to, and he followed, closing the last of the distance until his forehead nearly touched mine, until I was sure, completely sure, he was going to kiss me.

That’s when I felt it. His cock. Hard, pressed right against my stomach, twitching slightly with every breath he took.

“Why are you hard?” The words came out before I could stop them. I was breathless , and hot all over my body.

“Because I want to get you on your knees,” he said, voice dropping even lower, “and shut that mouth of yours myself with it.”

I tried to push myself off the counter and put some space between us, but the movement only brought our lips closer instead of further apart. Close enough that I could feel his breath against my mouth.

“Let go,” I said, though it came out weaker than I intended.

“Have you had a cock in that pretty mouth of yours before?” he asked with a smug smile. “I bet it would feel so fucking good wrapped around mine.”

“You are so fucking disgusting. Get away from me.”

“I know you don’t mean that.” His eyes dropped to where I was shaking, actually shaking, my hands still gripping the edge of the counter. “Why is that? Did my cock turn you on?”

“No.” My face burned.

“You sure?” A slow, wicked grin pulled at his mouth. “Want to see my dick?”

“Ew, no. Never.”

I shoved at his chest, harder this time.

“Now let go of me.”

He chuckled, low, like he didn’t believe a word of it, but he stepped back anyway, giving me room.

I saw it then, the hard line of him straining against his sweatpants, and God help me, he is so fucking huge. I’m a virgin. That size would literally kill me.

But something low in my stomach clenched hard enough that I hated myself instantly for it. I wanted it. Some stupid, traitorous part of my brain actually imagined what it would feel like splitting me open, and I had to look away before he saw that thought written all over my face.

Why is he so hot. Why does he have to be so hot.

He picked his coffee cup up off the counter, took a slow sip like none of this had rattled him at all. “One day,” he said, “I’m going to have you begging me to fuck you.”

“In your dreams.” I grabbed the first snacks I could reach off the counter, not even checking what they were, and bolted for the hallway before he could say anything else, before my legs could give out from how weak they suddenly felt.

“Goodnight, Liora,” he called after me, way too pleased with himself.

I didn’t answer. I just ran, snacks clutched to my chest, bare feet slapping against the cold marble until I made it back into my room and shut the door behind me, leaning against it, breathing hard.

It’s Elijah Brooke I want, I reminded myself, sliding down to sit on the floor. He’s the one I actually have a crush on. A normal guy. A safe one. Not a monster who corners me in kitchens and asks if I want to see his dick.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about it. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about any of them.

First it was Declan, the way his eyes had followed me all through that study session. Now Jasper, hard and smug and terrifying in his own kitchen. Why all three of them. Why couldn’t my body just pick one and let me hate the other two in peace.

I was starting to suspect surviving them was going to be the easy part. It was surviving myself I should have been worried about.