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After I quit fantasizing, I grab his wrist. “Hmm. This looks bad.” Blood flows from his palm too. He either sliced it or that is one huge splinter. He rubs the blood on his pants and pulls out his phone for better lighting.
I reach out and he turns his body sideways. “I’m trying to help.”
“Why do want to help me? You hate me.” He folds the hem of his shirt around his hand, then rips the T-shirt to use it as a bandage. His broad shoulders rise. It’s a few seconds for them to fall as he expels a breath. His tone is harsh, and I know I put it there earlier today.
I erase what distance there is left between us. I don’t know what I’m doing. My sixth sense takes over. Hopefully my instincts are better than my well thought out plans. “I… I,” my voice is scratchy, and my instincts aren’t telling my mouth what to say, so I say nothing. I stutter again, then lay my palms on his cheeks. I press up on one toe and lift my other leg off the ground, so I don’t apply pressure, and I kiss the corner of Hagan Chatham’s mouth.
His breath smells like peppermint and as I move to cover his full lips, there’s no response. No kiss back. No hand running up my arm. Nothing, he just stands there stoic. I’m doing my best to show him my interest.
He steps back and my hands fall from his face. “Answer the question.”
“I don’t hate you. I’m scared of you. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”
My heart constricts as I wait on him to speak. “Adalee, I’m a simple man. Most of the times we’ve been in each other's presence, you’ve copped an attitude for no apparent reason.”
He turns to walk away, and I yank his arm—not the bleeding one. “Do you want to know why I pretended to hate you?”
He half-snorts. “Yeah, I would.” He throws his arms up in frustration. This time he manages a couple of steps away but stops.
Clutching his arm, I admit, “It’s all your fault I tore my ACL and may lose my scholarship.”
ChapterEighteen
Hagan
My fault?She has to be joking.
I freeze. What the hell is she talking about? I stop in place and take a breath the size of the Goodyear Blimp. I can’t do this to myself. I’ve spent so much time thinking about her and trying to figure her out—showing her I’m a good guy—that my stomach is in knots. I wasn’t this tore up when Julia slept with another guy.
I take a tentative step in her direction. My heartbeat is only two inches away from her face. My jaw is clenched tight, and my teeth are grinding. Frustration kicks me in thechest.A short sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh escapes my mouth. “Why are you playing games? Damn, my girlfriend-radar must be broken. I thought you were different. You project yourself as polar opposite from most girls on campus, but yet you still play games.”
Adalee sucks her lip inside her mouth, and then her tongue peeks out, swiping the seam of the prettiest lips. She stutters again. Her body trembles, either from nerves or the cool autumn weather. The baseball house sits in a little valley and the wind gets trapped.
“Just spill it—whatever you have to say,” I snap.
She places her hands on my chest, and it burns like a hot iron. The gentle movement of her hands, back and forth a few inches, makes my dick stiffen. My chest expands, almost meeting her. This girl gives me wood no matter the mood or circumstance. Before we met, I got hard just seeing her from across the room.
“I left the party that night, and all I could think about was you,” she stammers.
A familiar but stronger emotion snakes up my spine. She was thinking about me from the very first night we laid eyes on each other.
I’m stunned. Why is she touching me like this?She was thinking about me.
My left hand drifts slightly above her elbow. Softly I utter, “I want the truth.” My stomach churns while my heart yearns for the simple truth. Hate and desire must be closely related because she’s drawing me in, blazing a fire over my chest.
She licks her lips and my gaze is drawn to them once again. Then she looks up to me under her dark brown lashes, flashing me her almond eyes and shocks me when she says, “Because I wanted you to want me.”
“I did.” The short sentence strains against my throat as desire and confusion compete for control. The bridge of her nose pinches. “I do,” I say as it rolls off my tongue, and I’m unaware that my hand has moved up her arm to the back of her neck.
“But I’m not a one-night kind of girl.”
My fingers massage her hairline at the nape. I pulse in anticipation before the space between us disappears and her mouth parts. And when our lips touch, hers are so fucking soft. I treat them like my most cherished possession. Gently, I wrap her lips in mine, stopping and slightly sucking them into my mouth. She responds by sliding her hands around my back and pressing my shoulder blades, and there’s no longer air between us.
“Good, because I’m not a one-night kind of guy.” She shudders as my tongue caresses her lips before seeking entrance. “I’ve got you,” I mumble into her mouth. I know I shouldn’t be kissing her. She just blamed her injury on me, but she just let out the sweetest, most irresistible moan. We kiss until my dick is so hard, it’s hard to mask.
Backing her up against the fence, without breaking contact, my hands roam over her tight, rounded ass. Adalee’s breath hitches from my touch, and I pull away just far enough I can see her eyes.
She pleads, “Don’t stop.”
