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It’s like my own version of hell, being close and not sleeping with her.
I draw in a breath.
If I can keep my fucking parts to myself, that is.
“Drop me off and?—”
“We can come back,” Nicolo says, interrupting me. “Do what you need us to do.”
“No, I’ll take care of Karlee.”
“I’m sure you will,” says Diego, and they both snicker and high-five.
“Assholes.”
The fucking kid’s in class all day, but I don’t want to confront him at the college. It was easy enough to get Harold’s schedule as well as the various social events going on.
Students don’t exactly hide their pursuit of fun.
Karlee’s different, though. She’s all about work with a sprinkling of fun, and I suspect the stuff she does for her classes is fun for her.
I lean on my kitchen counter after cleaning up her coffee debris from this morning and hit the Instagram posts of various students as well as feeds online elsewhere.
There’s a party tonight, a birthday for some popular student, and I’m betting with spring break around the corner, Karlee will want to go.
She’ll be out of class by now. Alan texted me earlier to let me know she was at the computer labs, so I called her.
I’m a little shocked that she picks up, and the hint of smoke in her voice makes my dick stir to attention.
Yeah, good luck with keeping my fucking hands to myself around her.
The stupidity of that plan is obvious even to the most stubborn part of me. She’s too . . . everything to be able to do that.
I close my eyes a second and then answer, “Karlee, what’s the plan?”
“Sir.” Oh, fuck me sideways. I can taste her with that one word, the sweet saltiness of her cunt, the nectar of her lips, the . . . I clench my fist. “I mean tonight. For you. Alan’s waiting.”
“Alan doesn’t get me.” She laughs. But there’s a soft, sad note to it because she believes me about it being over, just like I want to believe. She’s just teasing, and I need to get it fucking together. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I did, but . . . um, there’s a party tonight, I want to go. Can I, please?”
That’s what undoes me, the please. “Alan will drop you off.”
“That’s like my mom dropped me off at school and insisted on holding my hand all the way to class. When I’m a teenager, if I’d had a mom like that,” she says. “Laura wants to meet me here and go.”
“Fine, but someone will be watching you, okay? I’m sending someone, and no, you won’t notice them.”
As soon as I get off the phone, I call Wendy. She sends one of her youngest in ahead, with instructions to call me if Karlee doesn’t show up.
Shit, it might even draw someone out. Not that I’m okay with her as bait, but Karlee doesn’t respond well to being wrapped in cotton wool. A little faux freedom makes a difference, I think. It gives me time to go digging.
I don’t notice the passage of time until my phone beeps. Fuck, it’s eleven, way later than I thought. The message from Alan is short and sweet. They’ve all gone to the Belle Jar.
I change into fresh jeans, boots, and a long-sleeved black sweater. I get ready to head out the door because that’s where Harold posted he’d be.
I finish what I’m doing, setting the piece in motion with a text, and then grab my keys.
Fuck Harold. I don’t want him near her.
That’s the only reason I go—the only one.
