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)
“Just be careful,” she mutters without looking me in the eye and then goes back to her notes.
That’s not the reaction I was expecting, and my gaze lingers on her longer than it should.
I don’t like it. Not in the least.
During the entire class, I can’t help but to glance at her. I’m still trying to make sense of her reaction but she ignores me entirely.
Even when Dean puts his hand on my thigh. Even when he leans over and covertly whispers dirty little promises in my ear. My focus is on Angie, who looks more and more uncomfortable even though she’s not looking at us.
Before we’re even halfway through class I pass him a note and feel like I’m back in fucking high school. This … whatever this is between us, is stupid. All of it. But I guess I’m the stupid one really because I keep falling for this shit with Dean.
The question is simple; did you fuck her?
I get a what-the-fuck expression in return from him, paired with a furious headshake and then a cocky smirk. The note he sends back pisses me off. He likes that I’m jealous.
I’m not fucking jealous.
This right here, this is why I don’t have friends. Or boyfriends or fuck buddies or anyone in my life. I don’t need the spiked lump in my throat that makes me wish I had more water in the bottle in my bag so I could take a large gulp. Or maybe vodka in the bottle. I could use a shot to get rid of this tension.
I have to force myself to relax and the moment I do, finally listening to the professor, Angie gives me a friendly smile. Genuine. Maybe I’m just crazy.
I’m irritated, all because of one look from a girl I don’t even know. That’s not me. Just as I’m shaking it off, Dean’s heavy hand lands on my desk holding a scrap of paper meant only for my eyes.
You want a list of the girls I’ve fucked?
“Oh my God, shut up.” I don’t hide my irritation as I mumble the response.
Professor Grant glances our way as Dean chuckles. At least he’s having a good time with it all.
He lowers his hand to my thigh again, scooting his desk closer to mine as quietly as he can. He’s a big brute in that tiny desk and can’t do a damn thing quietly. I don’t know why it makes me smile like it does. He plays it off, mouthing he’s sorry to the professor and I find myself trying to bite back the humor.
But I instantly realize why he moved closer when he slips his hand onto my thigh.
I should look to see if the professor sees, or maybe even Angie. My dirty mind looks to see what time it is and quickly calculates how many minutes are left before class will be over.
When I peek at him, knowing there are only ten minutes or so remaining, he’s sinking his teeth into his lower lip, giving me a sexy grin as he squeezes my upper thigh and then lets his fingers drift closer and closer to where they want to be.
I’m in jeans so there’s no way he’s going to be doing anything too scandalous. I like his ownership of me. I like that he likes me and doesn’t mind showing people.
I like that I like him too.
Even if Angie has a stick up her ass about it. Or not … what do I know?
And so I part my thighs just a bit, enough for him to slip his fingertips all the way up, pressing the seam of the jeans against my clit.
My breath hitches and I look straight ahead as if my body isn’t igniting under his touch.
He doesn’t try to get me off, and he’s gentle more than anything else. Petting me and pausing when my eyes close.
It’s over before it really gets started, though.
The sound of everyone packing up is the cue he needs to pull back his hand. I’m riding a high from the forbidden foreplay and I don’t acknowledge her when Angie says goodbye. I hear her, but I pretend I don’t. Maybe that makes me callous or catty or something else. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to make friends.
Although I didn’t come here for Dean either.
We’re the last two remaining. It’s becoming a habit. One I’m starting to grow fond of.
“What’s going on tonight?” he asks me, and I don’t answer.
He’s a tornado. Destructive and all-consuming. And just like a natural disaster, I’m not quite sure how to handle Dean or if I can use this situation to my advantage.
One thing is certain, there’s going to be a path of wreckage left in his wake.
“I’m staying home this weekend I think,” I answer him honestly. I’ll be alone in the house, planning and considering all my options.