Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
What did I need?
Fear was shoving through. Desire was stomping it down.
Hysteria was there, trying to climb up. Inch by inch.
Pleasure, as he began dropping kisses down my jawline, pushed that down, too.
I was in a state of upheaval. One side pushed. The other side pulled. So many emotions were swirling, fighting, and then I latched on to his head.
I pulled him back.
I made him look into my eyes.
I told him what I needed.
Me.
I decided.
“You said this wasn’t going to be that kind of shower.”
His eyes darkened. “I wasn’t intending it to be. Clothes got taken off and I wasn’t fully thinking things through.” He waited a beat, though he knew. He knew. “What do you need, B.? I’ll give it to you.” He bent in, a tender kiss to my mouth. “I’ll give you anything in the world.”
“You want me to talk? You talk.”
He tried to pull away.
My hands held him firm. My legs wound tighter around him.
I added roughly, “I want to know every move your grandfather is making. I want to know every move you’re making.”
His eyes were hot and smoldering. “Sometimes I make moves spur-of-the-moment. Can’t run all of them by you.”
“Then run what you can by me. I want to be a part of it. It’s the only way I’ll beat what’s inside of me.”
I had to know.
I had to be prepared.
I couldn’t have another hand over my mouth, a voice whispering in my ear that men are going to break in.
I couldn’t take another pinprick that makes the world go black.
I hated the rough hands, the rough handling.
The drug in me.
No more of those moments, so that meant I had to know instead.
He was studying me, then nodded. “Okay. Deal.” He nipped my lips with his, and I felt him grin against them. “What else do you need?”
I reached down, found him, wrapped my hand around him, and moved over him. “What do you think?”
That said, he pushed inside at the same time I sank down.
He gave me exactly what else I wanted.
* * *
I pulled a shirt over my head later. “How bad was it, really?”
We were both getting dressed after the shower, and my stomach growled the introduction to a composition by the next Bach prodigy. Kash lifted his head, grinned at me, and patted my tummy. “I’ll order pizza. You need food.”
It was after one in the morning, but Kash didn’t care.
It’d been a while since I ordered pizza after midnight.
He walked past me, his own T-shirt falling down to mold so perfectly and so yummy over his backside. “Bad, but not many were actually there. Only a few.”
I trailed after him to the living room. Both of us had pulled on sweatpants, and they were heaven on skin. If I could find the same sweatpants, looking like jeans, I’d buy the entire company in stock. Genius.
“What do you mean? Who?”
I was asking about my meltdown. Kash was trying not to answer my questions. It was annoying.
“Your buds. Your advisor. The guards. Peter.”
I frowned, braking in the middle of the living room. “That’s a lot.”
He threw me a look, grabbing up his phone. “It wasn’t. Really. And who cares. You’re human, Bailey. The shit you went through, you were gonna crash. If you think you weren’t, you’re only fooling yourself.” He waved his phone in the air. “Pull up some psych text on trauma, read it into that head of yours, and you’ll know I’m right.”
Shit.
He was right.
Still.
Annoying.
I grabbed some water, and thinking on it a second, I poured a glass of wine for myself. Kash wouldn’t want one. Taking both beverages into the living room, I curled up on the couch and settled in. Kash ordered the pizza, went to the door and let the guards know, then came back. He paused before me and took in the wine in my hand. “Put it down.”
I did.
He scooped me up, depositing me so I was on his lap. Then he reached for the wine and handed it back. His arms wrapped around me and he nuzzled into my neck. “Better.”
I relaxed back into him. He was right. Much better.
“There’s going to be a banquet at the end of your semester. Peter talked to me about it. He wants to invite all your classmates and announce the internship winners.”
Okay. Not as much better anymore.
Kash slid a hand under my top and it splayed out over my stomach. His thumb started rubbing back and forth. “He’ll be pissed I’m telling you, because he wants to do it, but you gotta know.”
My breath was suspended.
He nuzzled just behind my ear. “He’s getting companies interested in you.”
“Other internships?”
“No. Jobs. They already want to make a job offer, but they’re waiting so they don’t piss him off. You weren’t going to get the internship, because your dad was going to offer you a job at lunch today.”