You Might Be Bad For Me Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
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Maybe it’s the curve of her waist or the way her lips are almost always just slightly parted. But something drew me to her and now the idea of her on her knees in front of me as her lips open wider to take the head of my dick is all I can think about.

And then she can treat me to the same sucking she’s doing to that pen right now.

Maybe she’s got my attention because Chem 201 is boring as hell.

Or maybe it’s because Little Miss Allison looks as though she’d be down for a dirty fuck, but she’s avoiding me at all costs.

Like right now. She’s got to know I want her. Maybe she likes the chase.

All she’s doing is skimming that pen across her bottom lip, making my dick twitch with need.

“And you?” the professor asks, his voice directed this way. I’m one row behind and two seats to the left of her.

“I’m sorry?” she questions Professor Grant, caught off guard. My lips curl up into a smile, although I hide it behind my fist as I brace my elbow against the desk. Yeah, I know I’m getting to this broad. Whether she wants to let on that I am or not.

“What’s the constitution of the nucleus of an atom?” he repeats his question, and my brow raises slightly. We’re only five days into the semester and this class meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Week one is too fucking early for this shit.

“Electrons and neutrons,” she answers hesitantly.

“Wrong,” the professor’s voice rings out and Allison purses her lips. The pen in her hand taps on the textbook in front of her as the class know-it-all pipes up, not even waiting to be called on.

The answer is protons and neutrons, not that I give a shit. My major’s undecided for now but there’s zero chance of me going into chemistry for a career.

I lean over, feeling the metal bar separating our rows pushing into my ribs.

“Maybe you should pay attention.” I whisper my first words to Allison, and she finally looks at me.

She gives me a side-eye paired with an asymmetric grin and I give her a charming smile back before relaxing into my seat.

After the professor turns his back to us, ranting about something he’s scribbled on the chalkboard, she looks over her shoulder toward me.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she blushes, peeking at me and then once again pretending to pay attention to him and not me.

That only makes me want her more. I know she’s thinking about me. I want to know exactly what she’s daydreaming about. That way I can make it come true.

I know she didn’t recognize me yesterday on the field, but I recognized her. She’s fucking gorgeous, assertive. Doesn’t know what’s in an atom, though. I smirk and act like I give a shit about what’s on the board when Professor Grant turns around and looks right at me. I even nod for his benefit.

The desk groans as I readjust in my seat and get another glance from Allison when the lecture continues and his voice drones on.

Not a lot of women approach a group of men with confidence. There’s a shyness but also a sense of playfulness in this one that I like. It’s something I want to explore and judging by the way she acted yesterday, compared to how she’s been in class the last two times, quiet and reserved, I’m guessing she’d like to explore some shit too.

The large clock above the door ticks by so damn slowly as I wait for class to end. Tick, tick, tick. Every time Allison puts that pen into her mouth, my dick gets a little harder. She lets it roll down her bottom lip and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t doing it on purpose.

By the time two o’clock hits, I’m hard as fucking steel.

I stay in my seat as everyone around me packs up, my eyes still on my prey.

As she closes her book, she deliberately avoids my gaze again.

“I thought you’d be shy,” I say as the person to my right leaves, blocking my view of Allison for only a fraction of a second. She sets the heavy textbook into her backpack and zips it up, all the while looking at me with an expression that tells me she doesn’t know how to answer.

“When I saw you the last two classes,” I tell her and then close my book, “you seemed shy and not at all like you were yesterday.”

“Is that right?” she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear and setting her bag back down on the floor. She turns in her seat to face me and says, “I didn’t know we had a class together. I guess it was just nerves.”

“You didn’t look too nervous yesterday.”



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