“I can feel you staring.” His laughter jolts me from my thoughts.
I see him looking at me in the mirror, his head tilted to the side with a smile on his face. And that makes my cheeks flush, embarrassed that I’d been caught staring.
“How are your hands now?” I ask, standing up and walking toward the side of the bed where he’s sitting.
It’s been a little over a week since he and Kyle fought, and they’ve healed quicker than I expected. I’ve seen Kyle around campus numerous times, sporting a black eye and a busted lip. Nothing he didn’t deserve though. He tried to kiss me, even after I told him to fuck off and leave me alone. Hestillhad the audacity to try and kiss me.
“They’re good,” he looks down at them, twisting them to show me. “I had a good nurse to nurse them back together.” He winks.
My cheeks flush again.
Why is he making me nervous?
I never get nervous, yet since Thanksgiving—maybe even before then—anytime I’m with him my stomach flips into a bundle of nerves.
He’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before, and when I look into those gorgeous blue eyes of his, it’s like I’m seeing my future with him. And I need to stop.
“Hey, you want to go get some popcorn?” I ask.
Lame, I know. But I feel like if we stay in the confines of my room for a second longer then I’m gonna want to rip his clothes off and make him fuck me.
And Greyson is not ready for that yet.
Am I even ready for that? If he’s perfect at fingering me, and eating me out…will he be the same with fucking me? and if he is, how am I going to risk letting him go?
He tilts his head looking at me amused. “Uh, sure?”
“Great!” I grin. “Let’s go.” I don’t bother waiting for his reply as I open my bedroom door and walk down the hallway to the kitchen.
I hear his soft footsteps on the wooden floor behind me as I reach down into the cupboard, pulling out a sleeve of popcorn and stand as “Heavenly” by Cigarettes After Sexplays on the little portable speaker, creating a soothing backdrop.
Glancing up, I see him leaning casually against the counter…right in front of the microwave where I need to be.
Awkwardly clearing my throat, I gain his attention and gesture down to the sleeve of popcorn in my hand and then up at the microwave.
He chuckles before moving an inch to the left. A fucking inch.
I’m trying to put a little distance between us because whenever he’s close, like this close, my heart races and my first instinct is to kiss him.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch the countdown on the microwave, trying my hardest to ignore Greyson’s gaze on the side of my face.
We’re fake dating—emphasis on the “fake” and I need to stop fantasizing about kissing him, about tearing his clothes off. And most importantly, I need to get myself in check.
“Come here.” He says, grabbing my hand and dragging me until I’m standing before him.
I grip at his biceps, steadying myself as his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer.
This is exactly what I didn’t want, because every time I’m in his arms like this, I melt into him. I feel safe around him, and that’s just going to make this more painful for me when this ends.
The thought of not having him there when I need him, the thought that he’s going to be comforting some other bitch—I’m jealous. It’s not even happened yet, and I’m fucking jealous. Seething to say the least.
Why the fuck am I even envisioning it?
“What’s going on inside this head of yours?” He chuckles, tapping his forefinger against the side of my head.
Blinking, I shake my head from the thoughts circling in my brain and lift my head to look at him. And what a mistake that was. The way he’s looking at me is making my stomach erupt with an explosion of butterflies, and I want nothing more than to get on my knees and beg him to have my children.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
