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Summary
Rumi leaned in, grabbing Zoey’s arms and pulling them outward into a stretch. Her breath grazed Zoey’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “Besides, if someone really is my competition for captain next year… I should keep that person rather…. close. Don’t you think?”
She tugged Zoey’s arms harder, stretching them to their limit. A small grunt escaped Zoey before she could choke it down.
Her pulse pounded like a drumline. Every inch of her body betrayed her, locking up under Rumi’s touch. And Rumi’s eyes—dear Lord—those eyes stayed fixed on hers, sharp and unrelenting, drinking in every twitch and flinch like she was savoring it.
God. Was she a sadist? Was this her kink? Watching Zoey suffer?
…Why was that kinda hot?
WAIT. NO. BAD ZOEY. STOP.