Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Shit,” he whispers.
I clutch the edge of the towel for fear it might fall off from the sheer force of his heated gaze.
“Yeah, um, I didn’t know…” I can’t find any other words for practically a whole minute. All I can think about is how he told his mum he gave up his old life to be closer to me. “Close the front door on your way out,” I blurt, and hurry to my room.
Leaning back against the wall, I bang my head into the plaster in utter embarrassment. That couldn’t have been any more awkward…or sexually frustrating. My door handle moves and opens a fraction.
“Can I come in?” Robert asks in a gravelly voice.
“You probably shouldn’t,” I breathe heavily.
He peeks his head inside, a cheeky smile on his face. “I promise I didn’t know you’d be bathing. Can’t say I regret it, though.”
Unable to stop myself, I let out a quick laugh, shaking my head at him. “You’re too much.”
“Really?” His tone is flirty now. “I thought I was just enough for you, baby.”
“Robert!” I exclaim.
“What?” His grin is sexy as hell.
The next second I’m in front of him, shoving him down the hall and telling him to get his pies and leave. Unfortunately, I don’t fail to notice the erection straining in his pants. I actually brush my hand over it by mistake when I’m ushering him out of the house. He groans softly, which I do my best to ignore. Once he’s gone, I return to my room and lie down on my bed, letting my hand fall between my legs in an effort to ease some of the need he instilled in me.
Twenty-One
Over the next fortnight Robert keeps his distance while breaking down my barriers bit by bit. Every second or third day he’ll be waiting outside the library at college with coffee for both of us, sometimes fruit smoothies or bubble tea (which is becoming a new favourite of mine.) I take them all gratefully, not wanting to be rude, but also secretly pleased he’s persevering. We have walks around the campus and chat. It feels different now that we’re home, not so urgent and all-consuming as it had been with him in London.
Often I’ll be making my way out of the college gates to go to the train station, and he’ll be sitting in his car with the windows drawn down, looking cool as shit and offering me a ride home. I always say no, too frightened of being confined in such a small space with him. I’m not sure I’d be able to hold onto my self-control if I said yes.
We mostly talk about Sasha and how she’s faring in her new job, which she’s enjoying immensely. Common ground. She’s also moved out of her dad’s house in Finchley and gotten an apartment of her own. He tells me about his search for a place to live closer to the city, since he doesn’t want to be getting under his mum’s feet. He found an apartment in Donnybrook that he’s going to be moving into soon. Inside I feel mournful that he won’t be living next door to me for much longer.
He also talks about how his dad was pissed he upped and left his job, but that they’re talking again now. All in all, he seems to be making a concerted effort not to broach the topic of our relationship, perhaps in fear that he’ll scare me away.
That all comes to an end one Thursday evening when I’m hard at work in the library, jotting down a passage in ancient Greek that I need to translate. I hear a chair move and look up to see Robert taking the seat beside me.
I continue writing as he leans his elbow on the desk, resting his chin on his fist, watching me.
“You’ve got pretty handwriting,” he observes as I scribble down the Greek letters.
Giving a soft smile, I reply, “Thanks.”
He sucks in a long breath and lets it out.
I pause my writing. “What are you doing here, Rob? You looked bored.”
“I’m far from bored,” he says, right before I feel his hand slide softly across my thigh. Trembling, I put down my pen but can’t bring myself to look at him. Nobody has touched me in weeks, and the mere pressure of his hand causes tingles to radiate through my body. His fingers move higher, and my cheeks go red as my breathing quickens.
“Ah, look at that,” he purrs. “You feeling a little needy, baby?”
I close my eyes and try to gather my wits. He shouldn’t have this much power over me.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
I silently nod, my eyes still shut.
“I miss being inside you so fucking badly, Lana. It’s been agony not to touch you. Every night I dream about your tight little pussy squeezing me when you come.”
“Robert! You can’t talk like that in here,” I whisper at him, appalled but entirely turned on.
“Nobody heard me,” he says, chuckling low, his fingers dancing between my legs now.
“That’s not the point,” I snap, needing to get away from him before I break. I stand and pick up the pile of books I’m finished with. Walking over to the re-shelving unit, I place them with the others, then go to search for the book I need next.
As I’m standing by a shelf, nobody else around, I feel Robert step in behind me. He’s so close that his breath hits the back of my neck, provoking goosebumps. Before he even touches me, I whimper. Then, quick as a flash, he pulls me into him and just holds me, his muscled arms crowding me in, one across my chest, the other around my hips. My back meshes with his front and my head falls to my shoulder, my body telling me this is what it wants, to hell with what my brain might be saying.
We stay like that for a long time. It feels so perfect that I can’t bring myself to move. God, how I’ve missed the physical connection between us. How I’ve resented myself for pushing him away all these weeks. I mean, what man would quit a great job and move to another country for a girl? Take on the life of a student, so far removed from the wealthy lifestyle he’d been accustomed to for so many years. If a life away from the people you love, however flawed, is no life at all, then why am I still torturing myself like this?