Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Suddenly, I’m feverish and aching and burning with that need.
To make her mine.
“Should w-we get started?” Iris asks, her cheeks flushed.
Probably because I’m staring at her like a wolf who has just crossed paths with a lamb.
Hands trembling, she opens the textbook in her lap and blinks at me. “Teddy?” She wets her wide mouth and my dick leaps in response. “Do you mind me asking…” She tucks some hair behind her ear, cheeks coloring. “It’s none of my business, but I overheard my roommate saying you got in trouble for v-vandalism. Among other things. And the dean told me you’ve always been a good student, but you’re having trouble now.” Her delicate throat works with a swallow. “Did something happen?”
“Yes.” I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. Not the therapists arranged by my coaches. Not my mother or friends. No one. But as soon as this girl asks me to open up, everything spills out of me like water from a dam. “My father died. He…fell asleep behind the wheel.” Frustration wells inside of me. “What the fuck? Why the hell did he do that? A ten-minute drive from the office to home. I don’t…I don’t get it.”
There’s no pity in her expression. Only quiet understanding. “You’re mad at him.”
“Yes.”
But that’s when I realize, the anger inside me has gone silent for the first time in months—and I go toward her like a thirsty man goes toward a well.
Chapter Two
Iris
How am I supposed to concentrate on the development of human civilization in Ancient Greece when this man is looming in front of me? Why won’t he sit down? He started to take a place beside me on the thin mattress, but made a sound and started pacing with clenched fists.
Yes, I really should have Googled him prior to this tutoring session. Or actually watched one of the division one football games on television. At least that way I would have been prepared for the god—speaking of Ancient Greece—that walked into my room. He’s well over six foot five, bronzed and…thick. Everywhere. So muscular that his jeans and grey, long-sleeved T-shirt are struggling not to burst at the seams. His physique would have been enough to render him a distraction, but he had to be handsome on top of being strong, didn’t he? His dark hair is windblown, eyes light brown, stubble gracing his jaw.
A man. A grown man.
The campus hero who will not play in the championship game unless I can get him to pass Western Civilization. That pressure has been weighing down on my shoulders since the dean asked me for the favor. Of course I said yes. I’m lucky just to be here. Lucky to be attending a university without paying a single dime. Tutoring the quarterback is the least I can do in exchange for my good fortune. So many people will never get this opportunity.
“Do you want to sit down?” I ask, opening the textbook and smoothing out the sheet tucked in between the pages. My notes for our first session.
When he hesitates, raking a hand through his hair, something humiliating occurs to me. What if he thinks I’m…I’m hitting on him? Asking him to sit on my bed? What was I thinking?
I shoot to my feet, fumbling the textbook in my hands. “I-I’m sorry. I should have asked you to meet me in the library.”
“No, it’s fine.” He’s staring at me with that strange intensity again. Like he’s restraining himself. From what? “It’s fine, I’m just…I’m trying to calm down first.”
Calm down?
Confused, I lower myself back down to the mattress, noting that his jaw looks ready to pop free of its hinge. “You’re not this mad over my roommate, are you?”
“I’m not mad.” He tugs on the ends of his hair. “I’m always mad, Iris. Just not right now.”
The textbook sits forgotten in my lap, his tortured energy holding me in thrall.
He stops pacing and shakes his head. “I’m not putting any more of that on you.” I start to tell him it’s okay. This larger-than-life man must have a million friends who would gladly lend him a shoulder to lean on or a listening ear, but if he wants to confide in me, a stranger, I would listen. Of course I would. But he speaks before I can make the offer. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I have to slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the laugh.
“What?” He frowns, fingers curling into his palms. “You do, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t. I’ve never…” Why would I volunteer something so embarrassing? The beginning of my sentence dangles there between us, until I have no choice but to complete it. “I’ve never even been on a date.” Fire engulfs my cheeks and I flip clumsily through the textbook. “Shouldn’t we be s-studying?”
“Yeah. We probably should be.” He plants his hands on his knees and leans down until our faces are even. “So. No boyfriend, Iris?”