Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
A breathless laugh bursts out of her before she shakes her head. “Even that would be my fault, wouldn’t it? If you got sick?” Before I can put together a response, she picks up her backpack and shoves her way past me—weakly, still, but I don’t have it in me to stop her after hearing her fight for air the way she did a minute ago.
Besides, I need to process what just happened. It wasn’t that I got hard—if anything, I’d be worried if I didn’t, being pressed up against a firm ass that wouldn’t stop moving against me.
What has me questioning myself is how much I enjoyed that. Beyond getting hard, beyond the thrill that came from touching her. Even beyond listening to the panic that started to leak into her voice. Just touching her, being close to her. I don’t know if I can go without that again.
And I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself if we were someplace private instead of in the library. If she hadn’t had that panic attack or whatever it was. There wouldn’t have been anything to stop me from finding out what she tastes like.
And I don’t know what to think about that as I emerge from between the shelves, not surprised when I don’t find Emma anywhere nearby before I head for the door. I followed her, thinking I’d come up with a solution for the weirdness between Easton and me. All I did was give myself more questions and uncertainty than before.
And plenty to think about later, when I’m home alone. In my room, where I’ll be able to indulge in my fantasies of everything I could’ve done to Emma. Everything I still want to do.
10
EMMA
I promised myself if I got through today, I would treat myself to a little something special. Instead of logging in from home like I told myself I would do on Friday, I forced myself through driving to campus with the promise of an iced mocha with whipped cream as a reward.
I’m not sure it will be sweet enough to make up for what Preston did to me in the library earlier, unfortunately.
Not that it was anything too extreme. He was trying to scare me. We were in public; I could hear people murmuring a few rows over from where he had me pinned. He couldn’t have gotten away with more than that.
But then I had to go and lose my breath. It got him off me, anyway. He’s too dense to give it any thought beyond the surface. I’m sure he’s already forgotten all about it by the time I enter the cute, quirky café in town. This is the first time I’ve had an excuse to stop in here, and right away, the aroma of coffee makes me smile happily as I wander past handfuls of small tables filled with people around my age, probably hanging out after their last class of the day.
It would be nice, the excuse to sit down with a friend and chat. Maybe we could split a brownie the way a couple of girls are doing right now, picking at it while talking about projects they’re working on. It’s been a long time since I felt like I had any friends—not since high school, really, before I lost Mom and Dad. Back when life was something close to normal. I was probably around thirteen, and I had no idea life wouldn’t get better than it was. But then you never know when the last time you do something is really the last time you’ll ever do it.
I need to get my head out of this dark place it’s been in. I know exactly who I have to thank for that, too, as I wait for my drink to be made. There are so many tasty-looking treats in the display case, but my appetite is so weird these days. I can be hungry up until the second a piece of food touches my lips, then I don’t want it anymore.
Even a big, sugar-flecked shortbread cookie isn’t enough to stir my interest. Mom’s favorite. That was always our reward after a long day of running errands. We would stop off for treats and share a cookie in the car on the way home. Even if we bought cookies to take home with us, we would still have that one in the car. Like a shared secret. Something for just the two of us.
“Emma?” The sound of my name being called out is like somebody hitting the gas on a time machine and rocketing me back into the present. My drink is ready. I wrap my hand around the cup, lifting it and taking a sip from the straw. My eyes close as creamy chocolate caffeine coats my tongue. Heaven.