“You know,” he said, “this whole strike thing aside, I’ve liked working with you. I mean, when you aren’t avoiding me or bossing me around.” He grinned. “You kind of fascinate me. You’re—”

I never found out what I was. Because I messed up.

The plan was to wait until Cash kissed me. But instead, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

chapter twenty-­six

“Lissa.”

The taste of my name on his lips was intoxicating. I wanted to hear it again and again.

The kisses had started slow. He’d leaned into me gently as my lips found his, tender, small kisses against my mouth that quickly turned longer and deeper. His hands cupped my face, one slowly sliding down to touch my neck and play with my hair.

As the kisses grew deeper, my own hands began to wander. I explored his biceps and abs, marveling at the toned, athletic muscles of his upper body.

This went on for a while, Cash keeping it slow and sweet, and I stayed in control. I knew what I was doing. I knew the plan, and then—

And then Cash was murmuring into my mouth, my name on his lips, and I was melting into him, feeling that same need I’d felt in the library two days earlier. The desire to crawl under Cash’s skin, to meld my body with his.

I started to feel light-headed and leaned back, pulling him down onto the bed with me. Cash eased away for a moment, his emerald eyes meeting mine, questioning. I nodded quickly and kissed him again, tugging him closer.

His lips moved slowly against mine and his hands stayed near my face, running through my hair or touching my cheek, never pushing the boundaries. I was the one who pushed things further. One of my legs wrapped around his waist, and I could feel Cash’s whole body tighten. After a moment, he relaxed and continued to kiss me, his hands becoming braver as they slipped down my arms, one inching under my shirt. I arched my back and his cool fingers slid under me, moving across my spine, tracing the curve between my shoulder blades.

Cash wanted me. I could feel it. Not just through his jeans—though that factor was certainly present—but also in the way he kissed me. It was still slow, but there was a hungry edge to it now. That was all I had needed, when I walked into this. For him to want me, to need me. I could have pushed him away then, left him frustrated with unfulfilled desire. Done what I set out to do in the first place.

But I didn’t stop.

Instead, I put a hand on Cash’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back so that I was on top of him, straddling his waist. I pushed my hands under his shirt, and Cash leaned up so that I could shove it over his head. We were both panting, but we just kept kissing. I couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t rip my hands or my mouth away from his skin. Like I was the north pole of a magnet and he was the south. It would have taken an effort to tug us apart.

I didn’t have that kind of fight in me.

His hands moved to my hips, holding me against him, our bodies grinding together for a long moment before one of his hands inched up slightly, hesitating at the hem of my shirt.

“Yes,” I murmured into his mouth.

I felt Cash’s chest rise beneath mine as he took in a deep breath. His hand carefully lifted my shirt, his knuckles skimming my ribs. He paused with the shirt lifted only a few inches, and he pulled back. His eyes met mine again, questioning, always questioning.

I lifted my arms over my head in answer. He sat up with me still on his lap and tentatively pulled off my T-shirt. The shirt fell to the floor, but Cash stayed frozen, staring at me, taking me in. For a second, I felt self-conscious. Then he touched my face with one hand, trailing a finger down my jaw, neck, and collarbone, stopping on my chest, right over the place where I felt my heart racing.

“God,” he whispered. “You’re beau—”

My lips found his again, silencing him. I pressed myself tighter against him, feeling the newness of his warm skin against mine, and I nudged him back onto the bed.

It was a while later, after many long, tender kisses, that I found myself being eased onto my back, and I took a breath as Cash’s mouth left mine and began trailing down my neck and shoulder. “Lissa,” he mumbled into my ear again. Just my name, and it sounded so wonderful in his deep bass voice. So soothing. So right, but—

But then I felt his hand on my back, fumbling a little with the clasp of my bra, and I remembered myself. The oath, the strike, the plan I was supposed to be fulfilling. None of that made me stop wanting to do what I knew we were about to do—because every hormone in my body screamed that this was exactly what I wanted. But remembering did fill me with a sudden sense of fear.

I was terrified to realize how far I’d let things go.

How much control I had lost.

“No,” I gasped, shoving Cash’s shoulder. “No. Never mind. I-I’m not—”

Cash took his hands off me and rolled away, almost falling off his twin bed as I catapulted myself across the room, away from him.

“Lissa,” he said. “Lissa, it’s okay. We don’t have to—I didn’t expect—”

“I hate you,” I snapped as I pulled my shirt back on. Quietly at first so that maybe he couldn’t hear, and then louder, louder, louder. “I hate you. Hate you.”

“What?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“I do.” But it was a lie. I didn’t hate him. I just hated the way he made me feel. Loved and hated it. Being with him like that was exhilarating, but so, so dangerous. I couldn’t control myself with Cash, I never could, and it terrified me.

This had never been a problem before. I’d always, always been able to keep the ball in my court with Randy. But with Cash… It was hard to push him away. For the most part, I didn’t even want to, despite the fact that I knew I should. Despite the fact that he’d toyed with me before and would again.

“You’re an asshole,” I said, spinning to face him. He was sitting on his bed, staring at me with wide, confused eyes, his shirt forgotten. “You just toy with people! This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? Making girls fall for you and then never… You play with girls’ heads by making them think they’re special when, really, you don’t give a damn.”

He blinked at me once before finding his T-shirt and pulling it back over his head. “Lissa,” he said, having regained his breath. His voice was smooth but low. “What are you talking about?”

“You play mind games,” I said. “You mess with girls’ heads, and you shouldn’t. It’s wrong and selfish and cruel.”

“Wait—I play mind games?” Cash was suddenly on his feet, looking across the tiny room at me as if I were insane. “I don’t know why you’re saying this, but you’re being really hypocritical right now. If anyone plays with people’s heads, it’s you.”

“Excuse me?”

“This whole strike has turned into a way to fuck with people, Lissa,” he snapped. “It was one thing when you were just boycotting sex, but now… Look at you. You’re using sex to get what you want—playing with my feelings for your own benefit. That’s why you came over, right? I’m not stupid. You’re the one who’s cruel, Lissa. Not me.”

I sneered at him. “You’re no better—leading the boys’ side, trying to seduce us.”

“We’re not manipulating anyone,” he said.

“Yes you are!” I shouted.

“Lissa, the boys haven’t done anything like this,” he argued. “Maybe the swimming-pool thing was wrong, but that doesn’t even compare to—”

“I’m not talking about the damn swimming pool.”

“We haven’t been toying with or teasing anyone the way you are.”

I glared up at him. “So you agree with the other boys at school? You think I’m a cock tease, right?”

Cash’s face softened a little. “Lissa,” he said quietly, “you choosing not to sleep with Randy doesn’t make you a tease. It makes you… Well, it makes you smart, but aside from that, it makes you independent. There was nothing wrong with your decision. And there was nothing wrong with the strike in the beginning, when it was just saying no.” He stepped a little closer to me, green eyes pressing into mine. “But there is something wrong with using other people’s feelings against them. Manipulating them. The way some of the strike girls are doing. The way you’re trying to manipulate me… That’s what makes you a tease. Fucking with people’s heads to get what you want—to get that control you say you’re desperate for—without giving anything in return.”