Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Time resumes as I wrap my hand around the leaking pen and toss it into the wastebasket at the front of the room. I don’t look up as everyone walks past me heading for the exit, including Angie and her friendly smile. Trying to keep my composure, I head back to my seat, only to peek up and see Dean waiting for me.
I fucking love it. I love how he makes his intentions clear and that he’s willing to give chase, to put himself out there. I love that he wants me.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks me. My first instinct is to joke, to flirt, to keep things light.
If only he knew the truth.
He’s already too close. And I’m too invested.
I should have stopped this before it got this far. A dark and deadly voice in the back of my mind whispers, coaxing in its cadence, It has to happen. It’s meant to be this way.
“Nothing,” I answer him immediately, ignoring the voice and reaching down for my bag.
“I knew it,” he says with a cocky grin. “I knew there was literally nothing going on in there.”
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter as my smile broadens. I feel naturally at ease around him … happy even. And that’s dangerous. His rough chuckle makes my entire body heat. Some places more than others.
“I can tell you what I was thinking,” he says as he leans closer, so close that I get a hint of his cologne. It’s clean and crisp, but with a hint of woodsy musk that makes me lean in too.
“I bet I already know exactly what you were thinking,” I immediately retort, which only makes him scratch the stubble on his jaw, his smile ever present.
“What do you think?” he asks me, and I arch a brow to admonish him.
“Thoughts like that don’t belong in the classroom.”
“Where else are we going to find a desk?” he asks me, and I can’t help how my thighs clench and my chest and cheeks warm with a slow, heated blush.
I always have a comeback but not this time.
“So, you want to go out?”
“No.” I laugh off his suggestion. “Do you want to go out?”
“I could go out,” he answers effortlessly. Like it doesn’t bother him in the least.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, feeling that unease from earlier crawling back into my skin. I forget why I’m really here when I’m with him and I can’t let that happen.
“You want a boyfriend or something?” Dean asks me, and I scoff. “What?” he says. “I don’t know what the hell you want.”
“Neither do I.” I answer him with the most honesty I’ve spoken since I laid eyes on him and turn my back to leave.
“The hell you don’t. You said you wanted me,” he persists. There’s a certain tone in his voice and a flicker of something in his eyes that I recognize. It’s a pain I know all too well. I hate it. I want to take it away and with Dean it’d be easy. He wants me, and I want him. There’s so much more at stake, though.
A slow prickle of ice settles along my skin as I think about what’s going to happen. I shouldn’t lead him on like this. It’s wrong.
But I’ve been fucked up for a while now, and he’s just so tempting.
“You know I do,” I tell him, turning around to face him after zipping up my bookbag. My lower back grazes it as my ass hits the desk. “I’d love for you to fuck me raw. Right here on this desk.” I reach behind me to grip it and then nod my head to the side and add, “Or against the wall maybe.”
His expression darkens with lust. I watch as his eyes widen with amusement at first, but even so, his pupils dilate with desire. Every second of silence is another degree of heat added between us.
I lean closer to him, feeling the tension rise as he adjusts his cock in his pants. His eyes don’t move from my lips as I whisper, “I imagine it all the time.” My fingertips play at the buttons on his shirt. Seeking consent, all the while luring him in.
“I bet you do too,” I tell him, staring into his dark eyes and willing him to picture exactly what I’ve been dreaming about. “It would be bad for me, though. You’ll fuck me then leave.” At the last thought, my hands fall to my side. That’s not the reason why, but I’m not above using the logic to keep him away.
It takes him a moment to process my confession. Like he’s paralyzed from what I’ve done to him, and that gives me a thrill I can’t put into words.
“So you do want a boyfriend?” he manages to say, and I’m equal parts amused and exasperated. The lies make the hole I’m digging for myself that much deeper.