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Preston:You like it when I’m bad.
Bex:You got me there. Come to the library.
Preston:So we can be bad together.
Bex:So we can study.
Preston:Right. :) If you say so.
Bex:You coming or what?
Preston:I hope so *wink, wink*
Bex:Keep it in your pants.
Preston:That’s impossible to do around you. I’ll be there in 20.
Bex:I’ll be waiting.
Twenty minutes later, Preston strolls down the aisle toward my table, all muscle and swagger. Track pants hang low from his narrow hips, his T-shirt tight against his thick chest. Did he wear this on purpose?
Ugh, I’m dying over here.
My ovaries are going to explode, and it will be his fault. He looks good, too damn tempting.
I smile up at him as he pulls out a chair and sits next to me. His large frame fills up every inch of space around me. So does his manly scent. He smells like freshly dried laundry, his musky cologne, and sweat. By the looks of his forehead, he ran over here.
“Why are you out of breath?”
“It’s all you, girl.” He smirks. “You take my breath away.”
I laugh and then nudge him in the side with my elbow. “Yeah, right.”
“You kinda do. But that’s not the reason. I ran across campus to get in some cardio. I was also trying to dodge this chick I hooked up with last year. She’s a clinger.”
“Nice.” I shake my head. “This is the Preston Parker everyone knows.”
He leans in so close our lips are almost touching. “I’d never run from you.”
“You say that now because this is new and still fun. I’m sure you’ll be running from me by the end of the year.”
I have to face the reality of the situation. No matter how good the sex or how much I like him, we have no future. Our paths will never cross after graduation.
His smile fades. “You’re impossible, woman. Would you just go with the flow?” He presses his thumb to my temple. “Stop overthinking everything.”
Before I can answer, his lips are on mine invading my mouth. Our tongues collide, and it’s like a silent war with each of us pushing and pulling for domination over the other.
Someone clears their throat from a distance. I break away from Preston, sinking back in my chair. The librarian shoots a pointed stare in our direction. Using her hands, she motions for us to move our chairs apart. I scoot mine along the carpet in desperate need of some distance from him.
“How come you’re all the way up here?”
I shrug. “No one ever comes up here. That’s why I like it. I can focus on my homework or study for a test. The dorms are too noisy.”
“I have the same problem at my house. Too many guys under one roof. It gets a little crowded.”
“I really have to study,” I confess. “I wasn’t joking about that part.”
He slides my open textbook along the desk toward him. “So, what are we studying?”
