That the girl he was with was… you know, doing stuff to him. And before I could stop myself, I gasped.
I gasped loudly and as soon as I did, they heard it.
The girl stopped doing stuff to him and a frown appeared between his brows.
To this day, Iknowhe was going to open his eyes a second later. And when he did, his gaze would land directly on me. So I ran. I didn’t wait for them to figure out that someone was watching them and that it was me.
I ran and saved myself that day.
I don’t think I can save myself now.
I don’t even think I can run. And it becomes even harder when another moan comes from behind me.
This one particularly loud and needy and like an idiot,idiot, I gasp like I did the first time I saw him.
But unlike that time, I’m not hiding behind a door and his eyes aren’t closed.
They are open and they are on me and at my gasp, his eyes, those pretty wolf eyes, glint. His lips, ruby-red and plush, tip up slightly too.
And I don’t think I’ve ever felt more exposed in my life.
More seen and vulnerable and trapped and… thrilled, all at the same time, and I think I almost explode with all the jumbled emotions when I hear, “Oh God, Justin. Stop fucking around and put it in already.”
And I thinkheknows it.
The guy who’s standing in front of me and watching me through all this.
Because out of nowhere he jars every cell in my body when he calls out, “Hey Justin!”
This time I don’t even bother stopping myself or castigating myself for doing it, I justgasp.
Nor do I stop myself from widening my eyes and questioning him with them:What are you doing?
He seems to hear my unspoken question and he answers me in the most non-traditional sense ever.
Without breaking our gaze, he calls out again, “Take it somewhere else.” He pauses for a few seconds as squeaks and curses break out. “You’re corrupting good little freshman girls.”
I wince at his description and his smirk grows.
That was not fair.
I’mnota good little freshman girl.
I mean, I am. But he didn’t have to say it in such a condescending manner. In a manner that makes me feel like an innocent, inexperienced flower.
Which again, I am, but still.
“Freshman?” A male voice – Justin – answers. “How’d a freshman get in here?”
Reed’s mouth twists into a sardonic smile as he answers Justin while still looking at me. “Maybe this year’s crop’s sneakier than we thought.”
This time the girl speaks. “Well, kick them out! They’re boring. And God, they’re so easily shocked.”
My mouth falls open.
That isnottrue.
We’re not easily shocked.
