"Your boyfriend's upstairs," Cook said , already reaching for the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed against your skin. "With Effy."

He'd heard them through a closed door; Effy's voice gasping out Freddie's name like a prayer. Of course she was with Freddie. Sweet Freddie, who got you and the girl he'd been chasing for months.

Now he was here, standing too close, eyes unreadable. He'd wanted this for weeks—wanted you—and if he was being honest, finding them together was just the excuse he'd been waiting for.

"Caught the fuckers, didn't I?" he murmured, his breath hitting your skin. "Proper goin' at it too. Could hear her from the hallway."

"You didn't stop him?" a chill running through you as his heated palms made contact with your flesh.

Cook pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Why would I?" His thumb traced your jawline. "I've been wanting this. Been watching you with him."

Your breath caught as his confession hung in the air. "James..."

"Nah, don't," he said roughly, cutting you off. "Don't act like you haven't thought about it either. I see the way you look at me when he's not watching."

"They can have each other," he said, voice raw with want and something that might've been hurt if you looked close enough. "But I'm having you." It wasn't a question.