“I wasn’t sure you were going to show tonight,” I admit, fiddling with the pencil I’d stuffed inside the seam of my book.
Oh, Lordy, why did I just say that? What is it with Preston that makes me say everything I’m thinking?
Confusion spreads across his face in a furrowed brow and pinched lips. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
I lift a shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “I don’t know…I guess I thought maybe…”
Hoping to avoid any further awkwardness, I glance over to my right as the words dry up in my throat. I reach for my water bottle in front of me, but I miscalculate. Instead of picking it up, it fumbles in my grasp and all sixty-four ounces spill out across the dark mahogany wood and cascade over the edge right onto Preston’s lap.
It’s a flood of epic proportions and water is everywhere.
“Oh, my God! Preston, I’m so sorry.” My voice rises to a fever-pitch as I push back my chair, stand and rush to the other side of the table to help. Without a second thought, I whip off my sweater and begin to blot up the water that falls over his thick thighs and crotch.
Yes, folks, that’s me. The nerdy, awkward tutor who is once again kneeling on the library floor in front of her student’s crotch, patting Preston’s groin region with my clothing.
His body trembles with laughter. When I peek up from underneath my lashes, I find him shaking his head, bottom lip sucked between his teeth, a smile of mirth across his mouth.
“I think this is making it worse,” he calmly assures, covering my hand and lifting it from his thigh. In the process, he exposes a very large bulge hidden under his jeans.
I gulp. No wonder they use an eggplant as a penis emoji. It has an uncanny likeness of one.
My face flushes twelve shades of red as I stifle a giggle that’s close to erupting out of my chest.
“I think a trip to the restroom might be necessary,” I suggest, biting my lower lip as he helps me back to my feet.
He turns in the direction of the bathrooms, but hesitates. Then he twists around and grins, a mischievous quirk lifting at his lips. “I might need some assistance. Maybe you should come with.”
I blink, my eyes widening in confusion. “Um…”
Is he asking me to come take care of the wet spot on his pants? Or is this code for something sexual?
Preston chuckles and takes the indecision out of my hands when he snags my hand in his, pulling me in the direction of the second-floor gender neutral bathrooms.
It’s quiet in the library this time of night and the bathrooms are in the far corner, behind deep stacks of books and rows of bookshelves. It’s fairly secluded and a very private space.
As we near the alcove, he suddenly spins me around and pins me against the back wall, leaning into me so that I have to lift my head to look at him. His breath is warm and smells of cinnamon and cloves as it fans over me. This position is reminiscent to our kiss last week.
“I’ve been dreaming about kissing you again. I need to kiss you again, Brin.”
How do I say no to that?
Apparently, he is still attracted to me after our date? I didn’t scare him off from what I said?
My lips part and I stand on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. It’s instantly smoldering and hot, laced with two days of pent-up desire. Everything about this kiss checks all the romance boxes I’ve always dreamed about—a hot guy, in the library, in the poetry section. The only thing that could make this better is if a gigantic bed materialized out of nowhere, complete with rose petals over the sheets, soft music in the background, and we were not in the university library.
I’m paralyzed with pleasure as he runs his palms over the crown of my head, gently stroking my hair. He slides his fingers through the loose strands and adds pressure to the base of my neck where his thumbs dig in possessively.
There’s a low hum of electricity crackling between us and I open wider, allowing his tongue to slip inside and duel with mine. The kiss consumes me and undresses me from the inside out.
But then I realize Preston is here, kissing me like he hasn’t just ignored me the last two days, and I need an explanation. Right this minute.
I press the flat of my palm over his pectoral muscle and push him away. His eyes pop open and his brows knit together. “What’s the matter?”
I scoot underneath his arm and cross to the opposite wall, needing space to clear my head that’s muddled from arousal.
“Why didn’t you call me or text me after the other night? I thought…I don’t understand. I thought we had fun together.”
He inhales a deep, shaky breath and drops his head in remorse. “I’m sorry I was MIA, Brin. I know it was a shitty thing to do. Our date was fun and I really like you. So much that it freaked me out.”
