Itisatruthuniversally acknowledged that when a woman is in firm possession of a thousand finals papers to write, Seth Aarons’s touch becomes more distracting than Santa Claus riding a unicycle while playing the kazoo.
Is that a terrible analogy? Maybe.
Is that unfortunate, considering I’m trying to finish a paper for my British Literature class? Probably.
Is Seth’s hand burning a hole in the side of my thigh? Abso-freakin’lutely.
“I need to focus.” I scold as his hand slides ever closer, flirting with the hem of my midi skater dress under the table in the library.
“What can’t you focus like this?” He smirks, turning his page with his free hand.
“No, and you know it. Don’t be cheeky.”
It’s been two weeks since Ellie transported me to Balsam Hill, and I’m still no less used to his touch's scorching sensations on my body. Another unfortunate fact, considering I only have two more weeks to make him fall in love with me, and all Seth seems keen on doing is dominating the fuck out of me with his fingers.
Okay, so not the worst-case scenario, but if I have any chance of getting those ten minutes back, I need him to start falling for something other than the way his name sounds coming off my lips when I’m orgasming.
Seth leans in. His breath falls hot against my neck as he brings his mouth to my ear. “I need another book for this paper. Want to come?” He pulls away, a pleased twinkle shimmering in the recesses of his gaze when he sees me shiver at his proximity.
My pulse skitters with anticipation.
This Seth Aarons may not be as clever as the other one, but he’s clever enough to make an innuendo when he wants to
Lately, I’ve tried to space out our little… whatever these are… to help manage my flares a bit, making excuses for why I can’t see him, or just avoiding responding to his texts until my libido can be trusted not to destroy us both. But even with those strategies, this whole thing has been hard for me. Sometimes it’s like he’s a piece of forbidden fruit that I know I shouldn’t eat, but it’s the most tempting goddamn thing. And I have caved a few times, answered his text, and gone over when I shouldn’t have because I genuinely like fruit. Honestly, I know the pain isn’t ideal, but a part of me wants to argue that I’d be in pain anyway. I should try to control what I can and enjoy the journey more.
Get my mind blown on the way for a change.
“God, you’re the worst—but yes.” I sigh, trying not to seem too eager as I bolt up out of my chair. “Yes, I want to come.”
He snickers, his hand falling to my hip, and he walks me to the stacks.
I lean against the dusty, neglected shelves with a smile as he mirrors me across the way. He rakes a slow seductive gaze down my body with a smug grin.
“What?” I laugh after a few beats.
“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”
My brow furrows. “Well, that’s weird to say to me, Aarons. I don’t think I look any different today.” I frown, glancing at my clothes. “Another day, another flannel—you know, that’s my motto.”
He snorts. “Have I mentioned how much I love your flannels?” He reaches for me. His hand falls to my back under the flannel, pulling me against his chest. “I’ve always wanted to see you in one of mine, but this is almost as good.”
“You don’t—” I search his face. This Seth doesn’t wear flannels. All the weird things that have caused me to pause over the past two weeks avalanche internally, like how he woke up from a dead sleep and seemed to be surprised to be in bed with me, even though he was the one hours earlier begging for my return. Or when I ran into him in town, and he said there was so much to look at. Oh, no. Oh shit.
No. No. No.
“Do you know?” I hiss.
“Know what?” He cocks his head to the side, kissing the nape of my neck.
“That I’m not—shit.” I shiver as his lips brush against my skin. “That this isn’t—I’m trying to—you know this isn’t real, don’t you?” I finally push out.
Seth pulls away, and his eyes widen. “Wait. Do you?”
“Be a weird thing to say if I didn’t.”
Seth studies my face, his lips twitching. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then a huge, mirthful laugh bleats out of his obnoxiously kissable mouth.
“What?” I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation.
