Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“You’re so hard to stay away from,” he murmurs, coming back to my lips and taking them again.
Sighing in his mouth, I rub against him while sweet friction eats at me, pulsing through my body. I’ve been scared before this, worried part of me would never want a guy again. The nuns made me attend a few therapy sessions after that night, and I recall the doctor telling me to expect anxiety when I had a sexual relationship, but right now, all I feel is need and want and desire and hunger—for him.
“Am I going too fast, Tulip? Am I?” he says raggedly as his hand slides under my skirt and traces the waistband of my panties.
“I dare you,” I say.
“Tulip,” he groans and slips his hand inside, brushing his fingers through my wetness with feather-light strokes while I shudder. He tugs on my hair, arching my neck back as he stares down at me, desire swirling in his eyes. “I want to hear you come. I want my name on your lips when you do, so bad, so fucking bad…” His breath hitches while his finger dips inside me and moves in and out.
“Never…I never have…”
“You will,” he growls as his thumb finds the upper part of my mound, teasing me with a hesitant touch, making me breathless as I arch to get more, just more. With his face flushed, he takes deep gulps of air, his eyes heavy and low. We’re moving fast, so fast, as he gets into a rhythm, working his fingers, circling and dancing and touching and—
Tingles skate over my spine, pressure building and building, until I’m gasping and clutching his shoulders.
“So sweet, so sweet,” he says in my ear, and the scent of his cologne, sunshine and sea, the feel of his quivering chest under my hands—all those sensations sharpen to a laser focus until I explode into a million shards of lightning, my body clenching around him as I call out his name, writhing against his hand.
I float down, lazily and softly, as he kisses me.
Dimly, I’m aware of more sounds around us, other than our breathing. Voices grow louder, students filling up the auditorium.
Knox tenses next to me, trying to get his breathing under control. “Fuck. There’s a class coming in.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Chorus probably.”
He lets me slide down from him and I realize my clothes are barely even out of place, top still buttoned up, my skirt draping over my thighs. There’s a damp spot on my shirt, but I can put my blazer over it.
I glance up at him, taking in the bulge in his pants, the tight expression on his face. A tendril of unease washes over me. “What’s wrong?”
He licks his lips, tearing his gaze off of me. “We can’t do this.”
My chest squeezes. “Why?”
He takes a step away from me, avoiding my eyes. “Stop asking me questions I can’t answer.”
Some of those old insecurities come crawling right back, slicing through me and going straight to my head. I remind myself of his coldness for the past two days.
“Am I not good enough? Not up to your standards? Afraid of what your friends might say? Not bleacher-worthy?” I don’t mean that last part, because I don’t want to be that girl, but he’s distancing himself. Again.
And if there’s one shred of anything I have left after that night in the woods, it’s my pride. Hell, if anything, I should be the one pushing the Shark away.
I’ve opened myself up and he’s the one retreating?
Can’t also means no, and he’s said it very clearly.
He closes his eyes briefly and looks as if he might say something, but he doesn’t, and sometimes when people don’t speak, they say everything, don’t they?
Maybe he doesn’t really think of me…like that.
Maybe…
Shit.
PITY. He feels sorry for me.
Because of his mom. Because he didn’t take me to the hospital.
Red flames on my cheeks as I gather myself together mentally, trying to separate my body from how hot we felt together.
And he’s still just standing there, his expression uncertain.
“Ah, I see how it is,” I mutter under my breath.
“Do you?” he says, and then the rest of his words come at me in an angry rush. “You want to pretend I haven’t wanted you? Go ahead, tell yourself those lies. But the truth is, you don’t know who hurt you that night. You’re still reeling from the aftershocks and I’m not good for you—” He stops abruptly. “Forget that. We have to get out of here before we get caught. There’s a side exit to the right that leads outside and goes around to the library. You take that and I’ll walk through the auditorium—”
He’s dismissing me. Us.
“Don’t tell me how I feel about that night! Maybe it was your brother who hurt me.”