CHAPTER 97
**ZION**
The day couldn't have gone any better. Watching Winter get taunted, ridiculed, pushed, and shoved-seeing her crumble under the weight of it all-it felt damn good. It was like the wounds in my heart, the ones I'd been nursing for far too long, were finally starting to heal.
Each jab she took, each tear she blinked back, soothed something raw and aching inside me. And yet, despite the satisfaction that surged through me, there was a small, irritating part of me that felt something else-something almost like sadness, seeing her so downcast. That sliver of pity annoyed the hell out of me.
As the coke and alcohol swirled through my system, a dark, raw need coiled deep inside me. The urge to fuck someone senseless tightened in my gut. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, trying to keep a grip on the rising heat simmering under my skin.
Then, to my complete shock-and my dick's immediate attention-Winter dropped herself into my lap. Her body landed against mine like a reckless storm, draping one arm over my shoulders as if she belonged there. The drink in her hand sloshed dangerously near the edge of the cup, but she didn't seem to notice. My body tensed the moment her skin made contact with mine, every muscle tightening, trying to keep control of the flood of reactions that were tearing through me.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I growled, barely keeping my voice steady. The heat from her body was seeping into mine, and I couldn't stop my mind from spiraling.
Why the hell was Winter sitting on me? And why the fuck was she moving like that-so damn close, so damn confident? I needed to get her off me, and fast, without causing a scene. But with her practically melting into me, that was easier said than done.
"I'm sitting on you, duh," she said, her voice as casual as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Her wide, glassy eyes locked on mine, and before I could react, she brushed her thumb across the tip of my nose, her touch feather-light. The movement was innocent, but the way her fingers lingered sent a shockwaves straight to my core. Her gaze never wavered from mine, and the playful smile tugging at her lips only made things worse.
"I didn't think you were the type to do coke," she said, her voice laced with curiosity, but I couldn't quite read her tone.
Was she teasing me?
Judging me?
The smile stayed plastered on her face, and my resolve began to crack. My dick was already far too interested in this whole situation, and I had to keep reminding myself who she was. Winter was the last person I should ever be this close to. The enemy. Off-limits. So why the fuck was my body betraying me?
"I didn't think you were the type to wear such a short skirt," I shot back, desperate to shift the conversation away from my own messed-up head. But my eyes betrayed me, drifting down to her legs-fuck, her skirt was short. Too short.
My heart hammered against my chest as I tried not to let on just how close I was to losing it. Being this close to Winter was messing with my head more than any drug ever could. She narrowed her eyes at me, the playfulness still dancing in her gaze as her fingers trailed through my hair. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to push her away, to break the contact. But I couldn't move.
Her voice had dropped to a sultry tone, her teasing hitting its mark. And damn it, my eyes dropped again to her thighs, tracing the path of her exposed skin.
Fuck.
She knew exactly what she was doing. The way she leaned into me, the way her lips curved into that knowing smirk-she was playing me, and she was winning.
"Just making conversation," I managed to say, but my voice sounded strained.
"I'm sure there are more interesting things to talk about than your skirt."
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away. But even then, her presence was inescapable.
My body screamed for her in ways I refused to acknowledge, and my mind raced with thoughts I shouldn't be having.
Winter wasn't someone I could mess with. She was my step-sister, for fuck's sake. She was off-limits.
But as much as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't stop the fantasy from creeping in-the thought of taking her right then and there.
I had to remind myself of exactly who she was—and how much I hated her. The lines between us weren’t just blurry; they were drawn in bold, unforgiving ink. Crossing them would come at a cost I couldn’t afford, no matter how tempting the idea might be.
I wasn't about to let her unravel everything just because she was sitting in my lap with that damn skirt and those legs.
Suddenly, the sound of a girl nearby caught my attention.
"Can someone hold this, please? I think I'm going to be sick!" she said, her voice strained. I turned, half-expecting to see Winter, but when I looked back, Winter was gone.
Instead, some random chick I didn't recognize was sitting in my lap, her drunken giggle snapping me back to reality.
I blinked, trying to shake off the fog in my head.
What the fuck?
Had I really been imagining Snowflake just now?
Across from me, Harry's muscles are tensed like a coiled spring, despite Sophie, one of Cindy's lackeys, practically draping herself over him. She's all but groping him, her hand inching dangerously close to his boxers, but his focus doesn't waver. His gaze remains fixed on me, intense and unflinching.
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