Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I nodded, waiting for him to tell me the problem. "Okay."
He didn't say anything, and I looked over at him questioningly. He was staring back with widened eyes.
"I don't know how to do any of that," he said. "Do you realize how long it's been since I wrote a paper? And it was like four pages with research taken right out of my textbook and a book from the high school library. I've never done any of this stuff."
He sounded so flustered; I couldn't help but laugh.
"All right. Don't worry. You're going to be fine. It's not as hard as it sounds. You probably do research all the time for your business and don't even realize it."
"I mean, I look stuff up, but I've never had to compile it into an actual paper like this," Camden said.
"I think you've probably done things closer than you think. First, do you have ideas about what you want to say?" I asked.
He pushed the notebook toward me and opened the cover, showing the scrambled notes across the papers inside.
"Those," he said.
I laughed and shook my head. "It definitely has been a long time since you’ve been a student."
He smiled at me, and my belly fluttered. That draw to him so was strong, there was no denying it. I would just have to try to resist him.
That was far easier said than done as our tutoring session quickly turned into flirting. We found ways to touch each other, lean against each other, and slip in little double entendres as we went through Camden's brainstorming ideas, and I helped him through the steps of distilling those ideas into a research approach.
Our session dragged on far longer than it was scheduled, and by the time I had to cut it off so I could go teach, I didn't want to leave. At the same time, I figured it would be best. The longer I was there beside him, the more I wanted him.
"See you around campus, Teach," Camden said with a wink as we parted ways on the sidewalk outside the library.
It both made my heart jump and reminded me why I couldn’t feel that way.
This was going to be much more of a challenge than I’d even thought.
7
CAMDEN
Getting Kristen out of my mind was impossible.
Everything about her seemed to be enticing, entrancing even. My mind would focus in on one aspect of her, and when I finally tore my thoughts away to do something else, they would circle back to another thing about her I could obsess over. It was driving me to the brink of madness.
The way she would flip her hair back over one shoulder when she was reading something on the desk, letting her face bask in the light of the lamp above her felt mysterious and sexy. The way her delicate fingers typed on the laptop she carried around, her nails clicking on the keys and each stroke made me jealous of the constant touch. The smell of her perfume as it wafted through the air seemingly blocking out all other scents in the room.
Her eyes were grayish blue like the ocean after a storm, and just as powerful, just as intense.
Her body was curvy and soft, hips that looked like they were made for my hands to grip, and breasts pressed together tightly with the hint of cleavage over her shirt. A rear that was round and perfect and filled me with the compulsion to smack and squeeze.
My mind simply could not stop thinking about her. Which was why I found myself six feet from her door during office hours, staring at it. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I felt like she wanted too. After our study session, either I had completely misread all the signs, or she was as into me as I was her. Damn the torpedoes, as it were.
I had watched as all my friends found partners, but all of them had made massive mistakes before getting together with them. I wasn’t about to add misreading this situation to the pile. I was going to make a move, and if she was adamantly against it, fine. But I wasn’t going to sit around and not pursue her because she was afraid or because I was too chickenshit to try.
Crossing the space in a few short strides, I rapped my knuckles on the door before I could stop myself. For once, I needed to just give over to impulse and not worry so much about the repercussions. That would all work itself out.
“Come in,” Kristen said from inside the room, sounding distracted.
I swung the door open and saw her sitting at her desk, her head bowed over a sheet of paper as she scribbled furiously on it. She was making some kind of note, and it was taking up a large portion of her mental energy. Enough that she hadn’t looked up to see me yet.