The dean beamed like I'd just told him he’d won the lottery and could retire to his favorite beach and drink cocktails for the rest of his life. In perfectly pressed three-piece suits.
“This is where I leave you,” he said when we arrived back in the main entrance. “You can grab your welcome information from the registrar’s office before heading to your dorm. I believe you’re in Marigold Hall. Your bags should already have been delivered.”
He was gone in a waft of expensive cologne, and I was left to hope that for the rest of the day, I’d just get to hide in my room. Stepping out into a new state and school for the first real time since the attack was already a lot for today. Tomorrow I’d attempt to make it to classes and get my life on track.
But first, I needed my schedule and welcome information. The office was right there. Sure, I had to pass a few groups of students who had gathered, but it wasn’t a huge deal. None of them were going to whip out a gun and start shooting into a crowd.
We’d been all but strip-searched on the way in, and I was safe here.
Safe.
In and out.
In. And. Out.
As I approached the entrance to the office buildings, there was a loud crash and one of the girls let out a screeching laugh. This was followed by a second crash, and at the sound of glassshattering on the paved entrance, terror gripped me and my mind flashed back to that day.
The day my world almost ended.
The day I hid behind a desk silently sobbing while a maniac called my name.
The day bodies were scattered around me as I prayed he wouldn’t find me. Prayed as I ran and screamed, until my back exploded in pain, and then there was blessed darkness.
I’d lived when others hadn’t, and this was my second chance.
I was just too fucked up to enjoy it.
Most of the time, panic locked me in place, my lungs screaming for air until I all but passed out. Today, with all those students staring at the crazy chick in their vicinity, I found myself running. Running with no destination in mind and just an incessant need to escape.
I ended up in front of a building that was familiar, but I couldn’t remember what the dean had said was inside. When I burst through the doors, I found myself in the library.Thank God.Libraries had been sanctuaries for me in the past, and desperate for a moment of peace and to escape how utterly broken and fucked up I was, I pushed deeper into the shelves.
I found myself in a dark corner near the last rows of shelves, my mind fuzzy and frantic. I hadn’t encountered anyone until the very last row, where I found a student already in the stacks. He was dressed casually, in faded denim jeans and a black fitted shirt, leaned back against the shelves, his eyes closed and expression calm.
I had just enough mental capacity left to wonder if he had been searching for a moment of peace as well, but not enough to quiet my breathing as those tendrils of panic still rode me. His eyes popped open, and I was greeted by the darkest green irises I’d ever seen, framed by inky black lashes.
He straightened from his relaxed pose, towering over me asI tilted my head back to keep his face in view, like it was somehow my new anchor in this storm of panic. A face built of perfect masculine lines, a straight nose, and sinfully full lips.
He was one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen, and I was about to embarrass myself beyond repair.
Our gazes clashed, and he didn’t say a word as he examined me with a furrowed brow. I had no idea what I looked like, but no doubt my purple-black hair was in complete disarray while panic drained the color from my normally golden skin.
When he took two steps toward me, I couldn’t find the strength to move away. “Are you okay?” he asked, the deep timber of his voice strangely soothing.
Unlike me, he was the epitome of health with natural blond highlighting strands of his brown hair, perfect bronze skin, and those spectacular eyes. “No.” The truth escaped in a harsh whisper, my ability to lie gone in my moment of vulnerability. “I’m broken beyond repair.”
A shadow crossed over his features, but he didn’t run screaming from the morose chick cornering him in the library stacks. “How can I help?” he asked, moving even closer until I picked up hints of a spicy aftershave mixed with his natural masculine scent.
Help.Fuck, I needed so much help.
Before I could think through the consequences of my actions—no doubt a man this gorgeous had a girlfriend—I pushed up on my tiptoes and slammed my lips against his. Desperation had initiated my action; I had to escape the torment in my mind. But I never expected him to kiss me back.
I never expected a damn thing these days.
He stilled at the initial contact, and I let out a breathy groan when mint and spice caressed my senses. Clarity returned with the kiss, and that was when the embarrassment hit like a freight train; I was so fucking far out of line. Lifting my hands from his chest, I was about to jerk away when his firm handsnaked around the back of my shirt and yanked me into his huge, hard body.
Heat exploded between us everywhere our skin touched, and there was a brief second between my sloppy attempt at a kiss and when he took control. His tongue demanded entrance as he devoured my mouth, and whatever panic had lingered in my system was swept away by his lips moving against mine.
Our tongues danced, two strangers sharing a second of grief and attraction.
