Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
She wasn’t the only one owing someone in this situation. I rolled my eyes and crawled out from under Shay. I tugged on a shirt. I didn’t know which one. I just grabbed one. It felt weird walking half-naked in the room even though I knew he’d pull it off as soon as I went back to him. Grabbing her keys, I padded barefoot and opened the door.
“You’re so gross.”
I shoved her keys out the door and grunted. “So are you.” I was going to shut the door hard, but paused. “Thank you.” It closed, and I locked it once more. I could hear her walking away as I rested my back against the door.
I took inventory.
I was wearing his shirt. No bra. No socks. No shoes. My jeans were unbuckled, but the zipper was still up. And I still had my underwear on.
Shay sat up, his eyes darkening. “You look good like that.”
I raised a hand to my hair. Still a mess. And my lips were swollen and tingly. I touched them, too. “Yeah.” He did, too, but I held that in. I stayed there, sober and clear-conscious thinking returning, and the questions were starting to form. What were we doing? What was I doing? With him? I hated him . . . right?
Didn’t I?
He rose lithely to his feet and started across the room. “Don’t start thinking. Don’t. Just—” I was still against the door but straightened to my fullest height and gazed up at him. I could feel his body heat. His chest was right in front of me. One inch away. He dropped his head, his eyes dreamy, and I could feel his breath like a soft whisper on my skin. His finger traced my lip as he added, “We don’t talk about it, remember?”
His hand skimmed down my arm, falling to my hand. “No talking.”
I added another rule, “No thinking, either.”
“Yes.” He nodded in approval. “That’s the best one yet. No thinking. Just . . .” He bent down, his lips over mine. “Feeling this.” He pressed them against mine, and I groaned, grabbing on to his shoulders as he hoisted me into his arms. My legs went around his waist, but instead of the bed, he just held me there and pressed me to the door.
His lips were on mine. His one hand was on my hip, and his other cupped the side of my face. He pulled back, only a fraction of an inch, and said, “This is okay with you?”
I nodded. God, yes. “No talking. No thinking.”
“Just feeling.”
“Hell yes.”
I dragged his mouth to mine. It didn’t need to be so far away.
It was after midnight when I finally kicked him out.
We maintained our rules. We didn’t talk. When I pushed him away, he just nodded, kissed me, pulled his shirt on, and kissed me again. He pulled on his socks and shoes, another kiss. Then grabbed his phone and his own keys. Two more kisses, as I began walking him toward the door.
This wasn’t what I did with boyfriends. The few that there’d been, it’d been all business. A grope. A chaste kiss goodbye, and then they were out the door. This was light and fun and sexy and I was forgetting how much I hated the guy.
I pulled away at the door and shook my head. “No more.”
I broke the no-talking rule.
His half-smirk reminded me, but he raked a hand through his hair, looked up and down the hallway, and was gone. The door closed with a hard bang, and I jerked back inside so the squawkers didn’t know that was me. I heard their door open, and the girl I had flipped off earlier grumbled, “Who was that?” She pulled back into the room. Her voice grew muffled as the door closed.
I went to the window in time to see a shadow dart from the stairway and off to the parking lot. It was then that everything hit me.
I made out with Shay Coleman.
Shay Fucking Coleman.
He wanted to fuck me.
I plopped down on Missy’s desk chair since it was closest to the window. Raking a hand through my hair, I was dumbfounded. I was still writhing around on that bed, feeling his hands everywhere, his kisses, feeling him on me. Groaning, I buried my head in my hands.
What the hell did I just do?
No. I couldn’t go there and let myself be filled with shame. Whatever. I sat back up. So what? So the fucking what? I made out with a guy? Who cares if I couldn’t stand him outside the bed? We weren’t in a relationship. I wasn’t going to date the guy. Hell no. This was physical. And if it happened again—well, I wasn’t going to think about that, either.
I stood and actually shrugged it off.
I wasn’t going to be filled with remorse, and I wasn’t going to feel cheap and dirty. It was kissing. It was healthy, just like I said to Missy. That was healthy, too.