Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“What I was going to say,” he repeats, struggling to find the right words, “is that sex changes everything. You don’t know that yet but it does…and…and any guy that tells you differently is full of shit.”
His gaze softens and drifts back to my lips. Which makes me fidget, my body coming alive under his rapt, sexy scrutiny. A slow moving heat starts between my legs and spreads up, up, up, over my breasts, pebbling my nipples. My skin is so sensitive the wind blowing on my bare arms hurts. If he can get me this turned on with one glance, I have to wonder what he can do with his actual body parts.
“I do want you,” he murmurs quietly, his gaze veering away to a set of headlights in the distance. I watch his Adam’s apple bob, his jaw tighten. “If I didn’t think it would fuck up our friendship, I’d take you up on your offer right now, but I know better”––his eyes meet mine again, packed with sadness––“and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want it to ruin us.”
A moment of silence turns into two, then three.
“I understand.”
Because I do. Who am I kidding? I’m half in love with him already. I can’t even contemplate what it would feel like to see him with another girl. Curiously, since the accident, I haven’t seen any bookends hanging around. And yet it’s only a matter of time. Once he gets his driver’s license and his life back, I could turn into a long forgotten memory.
He studies my face. “Do you?”
Nodding. “Yeah.”
I guess I’ll have to resign myself to dating more Andys of the world. Not that there’s anything wrong with him. He’s perfectly fine. At least he won’t break my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Dora
“Dora!” I hear coming from across the quad.
I’ve been avoiding him. I totally have. The talk we had a few days ago did not do me any good whatsoever. It’s only cemented the reality that I’m weak and shallow and in serious danger of stumbling into love with him. Which is why I need a time-out.
He’s been calling––I hit voicemail. He’s been texting––I’m busy with schoolwork is my patent answer.
“Dora!” I hear the slapping of footsteps behind me and I break out into an actual semi-jog. Yep, I am almost running. And yet I can’t shake him. He’s static cling, the lost red sock sticking to my sweatshirt right out of the drier, dogging my every step to the parking lot.
“Stop acting like you don’t hear me,” he says in my ear as I reach the top of the stairs huffing and puffing.
The parking lot is full of students loading up their cars. Most have already left for spring break but some stranglers, like me, are leaving today.
“I-I can’t talk right now. I-I’m leaving for the week.”
“Oh, yeah––where?”
“Where?” Abruptly, I stop and turn, and in doing so, I almost crash into him. Dallas takes hold of my arms and steadies me before stepping back and putting some much-needed distance between us.
His admission that he wants me too only served to fuel the sexual tension between us. It’s at DEFCON 5 right now and I’m not sure we can deescalate without one of us taking drastic measures.
“Umm, away.”
All the running has left a fine mist of sweat on my face while he looks like the windswept hero in my favorite Julia Quinn historical romance novel. Hair perfectly disheveled. Freshly tan with just the right amount of rosy glow on his perfect freaking cheekbones. It’s an overkill of perfection.
“Yeah, I got that part,” he snarks. “What I don’t get is why you’ve been leaving skid marks every time you’ve seen me around the last few days.” He studies my face. “Are you mad at me?”
Crud. “No! No, I’m not m-mad at you I’m…umm”––shit, shit, shit––“I’m g-going to see my m-mother.”
“Your mother?” he repeats. His brows draw together, heavy thoughts resting there. He makes thinking look hot. This is just beyond the pale.
“Yeah,” I sigh. I’m not even sure I’m doing the right thing. Problem is, I can’t silence the belief that if I don’t do it now––I never will.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You want to come with me…to, to m-meet my mother?”
Dallas looks off, his nose wrinkles. He licks his lips. How can anyone think straight standing before a cursed pout like that? I know what those lips taste like. I know what they feel like against mine. And the thirst for more is getting out of hand.
“I can’t trust you not to get yourself in a world of trouble. Somebody’s gotta look out for you.” His gaze meets mine, a twinkle of something wicked in it. “Face it, Dory, you’re a danger to yourself. You need me.”
Wow. Major loaded sentence. But I’m not touching that bombshell right not. Not when I need to get on the road.