Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Say something,” he says with a gentle plea. Meanwhile, his attention is zeroed in on my lips like he wishes he could taste them.
I wet the bottom one, and it’s like he can feel it too.
“I can’t.”
His eyebrows furrow in despair.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his tone now filled with mock gravity. He’s worried he missed a gunshot wound to the abdomen back there: I’ve been slowly bleeding out this whole time without him realizing. Our happy ending won’t come after all. Roll credits.
He pushes off the door and turns to cage me in against it. I laugh as he pats me down like he’s checking for wounds. His hands slide gently over the sides of my chest and stomach. It’s playful and silly, but it’s also extremely hot. The edge of his thumb accidentally brushes the underside of my breast. His hand finds a spot on the side of my rib cage that isn’t ticklish, it’s sexy. A moan nearly sneaks past my lips before I bite down, stifling it.
I’m not supposed to be majorly turned on, but soon, I’m panting for reasons that have nothing to do with our sprint back to our room.
His hands freeze on my waist, and he bends so his gaze can find mine. His expression turns knowing as he recognizes what he’s doing to me. How does he know, exactly? Beats me. Maybe I’m drooling a little. Maybe my pheromones are wafting off me in great cloying plumes.
I’m too on display, with him looking at me like this.
“All good,” I promise, pushing off the door.
The move brings me right up to his chest. I’m stuck unless he moves. In the small foyer, I can’t scoot around him, not unless I want to brush up against him even more, which . . . doesn’t feel like the best idea right now. Not while his gaze is as hungry as it is. Not while my common sense has officially left the building.
He doesn’t move right away. There’s a moment when he’s crowding me, tall and foreboding. It’s the way a high school bully would trap a cowering nobody against a set of lockers. The bell already rang; the hallway’s deserted. He’s playing chicken, testing me.
Let’s finish what we started, he seems to say as he takes a tiny step forward.
I can do nothing but gulp.
I want to meet his challenge head on, throw myself at him, fuse myself to his body from this day forward as long as we both shall live. The last few days have felt markedly different for us. His confession about Todd, us sharing a bed last night . . . it could be the catalyst we need to finally get out of our own way. The trouble is we’ve been here before. That night on the beach felt like it could have changed things for us, but it didn’t. We kissed, and then the next day, poof, nothing. So how can I be certain things won’t go right back to normal the second this weird roommate situation wraps up?
A few days from now, we could be adversaries across the lobby.
Only this time, I know with absolute certainty that I won’t be able to bear it.
Whether or not things have changed for Cole, they’ve changed for me. I’ve given him too many pieces of me, little by little. If things don’t work this time, there won’t be anything left. No more banter. No more friendship. I’ll have to be done.
The thought hangs like a storm cloud over me, dousing whatever steamy moment we were building. I’m terrified he’ll see it—all of it—before I’ve composed the full picture for myself.
I yank the Reese’s out of Cole’s hand and cut past him to get to the bed.
For now, I’m putting us on ice.
At least until I finish this chocolate.
Chapter Twenty-One
PAIGE
I do a poor job of acting normal the rest of the night.
After I leave him hanging at the door, Cole catches the hint and backs off the buddy-buddy stuff. We sit on the bed and share our candy while we watch the second half of a zombie movie. I’m usually a wimp when it comes to thrillers, but not tonight. My eyes are on the screen, but nothing gets transmitted to my brain. Jump scare after jump scare, blood and guts galore—I don’t even blink. Cole thinks I’m a total badass, when really I’m just distracted.
The movie ends, and Cole reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. It’s dead silent when he looks over at me. I panic, thinking he’s about to ask me what’s going on, and I’m not ready. I’m not. I just need a little more time. A shower.
Sure, I took one earlier, but that run from the twelfth floor is my excuse for why I need another. And if I happen to stay in there awhile, it’s because I’m being really thorough. You have to wash all the crannies, not just the nooks.