Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
A muscle tics in his cheek, but then he lifts his chin to look down his nose at me. The swagger returns. Now I know for certain it’s something he puts on and off. Something he wears like his Varsity letterman jacket.
“I’m not your pool boy, Pearls.”
There he goes, making it about my money again. Turning it back around on me when he’s been the one treating me like the errand girl.
I shrug my shoulders and give him a whatcha-gonna-do? smile. “I’m not going to do your work for you anymore, quarterback. So if you want to play in tonight’s game, I guess you better figure out how to get this lab done.”
I note the unease on his face before he hides it. I was right. He needs me way more than he’s been letting on.
“Really?” His voice drips with exaggerated doubt. You’re going to take an F on today’s lab, Ms. Straight As?“
“I can fake period cramps, leave, and make it up later like I did with Friday’s lab. But you don’t have that luxury, do you?”
He pushes his tongue in his cheek, his eyes narrowing.
I spread my hands. “So go ahead, big shot. Show me how it’s done.” I pick up the instruction sheet and wave it in his face.
He snatches my wrist, pulling me against his body. His other hand ghosts over my hip, lighting up every nerve ending in its vicinity. We’re close enough I feel the heat of his body through my clothes.
“Careful, Pearls,” he murmur-growls. “You never know what might happen if you get this close to me.” His eyes glow ice blue. His wolf is showing. How many times did I miss seeing the truth before?
At least I know for sure that I’m not going crazy.
“We wouldn’t want something to happen that would upset your boyfriend back home, now would we?” He spits the word boyfriend like it poisoned his tongue.
My mouth drops open with surprise.
Well–what do you know? Abe’s jealous. Now his anger makes sense.
Someone must’ve told him I have a date to homecoming. Lincoln or Rayne, since I don’t talk to anyone else at this school.
It explains why he’s been so pissy with me all week.
If he hadn’t been such a dick, I might let him off the hook and tell him the truth about Luke’s visit. But I don’t owe him that. I don’t owe him anything.
So I just reach up, pull his goggles away from his forehead and release them, so they snap down on his nose. “That’s right, we wouldn’t.”
His eyes flash ice blue again. His grip tightens on my hip, fingers twisting up the fabric of my jean shorts.
With a roar, my body comes back to life. The black and white lab turns to color. Sensation kick-starts. My nipples tingle, a slow, hot thrum sounds between my legs.
My breath stalls.
He’s not breathing either.
It’s like the two of us are suspended in time, our angry gazes locked on one another. He’s still holding my wrist, and his thumb begins to move over my pulse there. He slowly draws my hand toward his mouth. His lips part.
They are sensual lips for a guy–full and supple. I wonder what it would be like to be kissed by him.
He bites my knuckle. Not hard but not soft.
A weird, warbling sound comes from my mouth. Something like, Ahh…oh.
I have no idea what he means by the bite. Was it punishment? Seduction? A warning?
All I know is that it feels like lightning struck my spine. Tingles ignite everywhere. I’m flushed with heat, hungry for more.
He’s finally managed to do what he’s been attempting since the first day of school–discombobulate me.
I yank my hand out of his grasp and search his face.
A slow, cocky grin appears.
Damn him.
I should walk out. Leave him to figure out this lab on his own. But something won’t let me move.
Abe releases my wrist and my waist in slow increments, so I barely notice when I’m free.
He pushes the instruction sheet across the counter toward me. For some reason, he thinks he’s won. Because he got under my skin. Mastered me.
Since my feet are refusing to walk away, I turn my attention to the lab–where it should’ve been this whole time, anyway. I pull down the beakers and test tubes.
“How much of the solution do we need?” I ask.
Abe glances down at the paper, squints, and looks back up. Then he takes the solution from me–not in a gentlemanly way, more of a snatchy, mine kind of way. “You tell me,” he challenges.
I stare at him, trying to figure out this confusing-as-hell guy. And that’s when I realize what I should’ve figured out weeks ago when he began this whole game of making me do all the work for him.
Abe might actually struggle with schoolwork. What if it’s not just laziness? He could be like the college athletes you hear about who never learned to read above a third-grade level and somehow fake it through or get passed through because of their physical prowess. Or maybe he can’t read at all.