Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I don’t want you to take care of anything except for leaving me the hell alone.” I slam both hands on his chest to push him away, but he might as well be a buffalo. A dangerous one with boundary issues, because he takes that as an invitation to step further into my space.
His chest creates friction against my breasts that I want to hate, but I can’t help the increasing tightness in my stomach. We’re separated by his football gear and my sports bra and top and yet, it’s like his naked skin is rubbing against my nipples, stimulating them, peaking them, and crossing the line of no return.
“But I don’t want to.” The words leave his sinfully proportioned lips with a seductive tilt.
“What do you mean you don’t want to?”
“I don’t want to let you go, Naomi. I rather like it here. Just like this.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Is lying a defense mechanism of yours?”
“Leave me alone before you meet my actual defense mechanism.”
“And what is that?”
“I’d rather show you.” I lift my knee to hit him in the balls, but his reflex is faster than mine. His large palm nearly engulfs my thigh and he loops it around his and positions it in a way that seems as if I’m humping him in public.
If my attempted attack fazes him, he doesn’t show it as he smiles in that fake-ass way. Like some fancy politician in front of cameras. “Now, Naomi. If we’re going to have a healthy relationship, there shouldn’t be any violence present. Unless…it’s the type of violence we both agree on.”
A shudder grips me at the sinister undertone of his words, and although I don’t really understand what they mean, an unfamiliar part of me rises to the surface with a force that startles the shit out of me.
It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings. “Who said I want any relationship with you?”
“You should. I recommend it.”
I scoff, trying to squirm, to no avail again. “Of course, you would.”
“I’m rich, handsome, and a star. Oh, I also come from a prestigious family. What’s there not to like about me?”
“Everything you just mentioned. Oh, and your arrogance is the cherry on top. Sorry to crash it to the ground, but I don’t do douchebags. Better luck next time.”
He chuckles, the sound surprisingly carefree compared to his demeanor. “You are a funny one.”
“No, I’m kinda bitchy. Ask your besties, Reina and Brianna, and they’ll tell you the deets.”
“I’d rather ask you. Dinner tomorrow?”
“In the funeral home before they cremate you?”
“Or just somewhere nice where we don’t have to worry about dead people.” He speaks calmly, a smirk tugging his lips, and appearing completely oblivious to my sense of sarcasm that usually works in shooing people away.
“I’m not sure if you got the memo, but I just insinuated that I’m not interested in you.”
“No, you insinuated that I’m arrogant and that you hate all the qualities I mentioned about myself.”
“Okay then, I’m telling you now that I’m not interested for the reasons mentioned above.”
“So let’s forget about them.”
“What?”
“Forget about the background and who I am. Do you have any objections otherwise?”
“I can’t just forget them.”
“You can pretend to.”
“Doesn’t work that way. Your name and face and position in the college are what defines you.”
His jaw clenches. “And what defines you, Naomi?”
“You tell me. Aren’t you the one who forced a kiss on me, then wanted to take me out to dinner like some doting dick? We’d never properly spoken before you slammed me to the ground a few days ago, so I’m free to believe you’re playing me.”
“Or maybe I’m just interested in you.”
“Oh, please. Name one thing you know about me.”
He remains silent.
“You have nothing? Figured as much. Go play this game on someone else because I don’t have the time—”
“You hate being a cheerleader and throw every tantrum under the sun to be kicked off the squad. However, the dean and the coach keep you on because of the checks your mommy writes to the college. You were raised by a single mother of Japanese origins and you have a tendency toward passive-aggressiveness and straight out aggressiveness when your race is brought up. You use sarcasm and self-deprecation as a defense mechanism, but you don’t react well when those tactics are directed at you. You barely smile because you like being angry at the world and everyone in it and prefer to be an asocial weirdo instead of putting on a mask. You sometimes wear black-framed glasses in class that make you look like an adorable nerd. Oh, and you listen to hard rock at a volume that will damage your ears in the future.”
My lips part as I stare up at him. There’s…no way he’d be able to know all of that about me. Not when we’ve barely had any contact.