“Come with me.”
I roll my eyes. It’s probably the twenty-seventh time he’s said that since yesterday. I’m fully prepared to summon Satan himself to come get a handle on his minion and tell Dread to leave me the hell alone.
I’mso. Fucking. Sore.
“We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many different ways, I could write a play about it,” I complain. “I told you, Ican’t. Midterms are this week. Andno, you can’t go hunt down my professors and demand they let me test early just because you want me to come. They probably wouldn’t even allow it if you tried.”
He narrows his eyes. “It’s not just because I want you to, Reverie. You have a serial killer or five stalking you, depending on how many fucking people Lionel has convinced to help him. I’m two seconds from demanding Barry put you in fucking witness protection.”
I tip my head back and groan loudly.
“Only if they hide me from you, too.”
The second I drop my chin, my stomach drops, too, and I immediately realize my grave error. He stares at me with his brows raised while the muscle in his jaw pulsates.
“Say that one more time,” he challenges, his voice deepening. Every hair on my body stands on end.
Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.
I force out an awkward laugh. “Just kiddin’.”
He doesn’t laugh. My lips press into a thin line, and I turn my attention to the side to admire the window. The sunlight shining through the blinds looks super pretty. It’s even creating sparkles and shit on the surface of his desk nearby.
Absolutely stunning.
“Rev.”
“Hmm?” I return my focus to him with a tight-lipped smile, trying my best to appear innocent.
My palms are sweating.
He uncrosses an arm to point to the floor between us.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there doesn’t appear to be a single obstacle in the five feet between us that would prevent me from bending you over my knee and spanking your ass raw.”
I grimace then clear my throat before nervously responding, “It would, uh, appear you are not wrong.”
The tense silence continues for several more beats, and just when I’m prepared to throw something at him and bolt, he shakes his head and scoffs. “You’re really fucking lucky I respect you now.”
I slump and expel a sigh of relief.“Great, because I’m pretty sure my vagina has its own heartbeat.”
His lips twitch. “You walked out of the bathroom hobbling, and that’s the only reason you can still sit.”
Arching a brow, I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “I can barely do that now.”
I narrow my eyes. The dickhead looks far too pleased by that response, and I decide I hate him again.
His lips twitch as he approaches, closing the distance between us before crouching and pressing his chest into my knees. His massive hands grab my calves, and I barely suppress a shudder from the feel of his skin against mine.
I’m only wearing a pair of underwear and one of his T-shirts, which I’m swimming in, reaching mid-thigh. He almost tore it right back off again when he first saw it on me, but he refrained as soon as he clocked my agonized expression with every step I took.
He peers up at me, and my heart skips a beat as I take in the dark blue rings around the outer edge of his irises. A divot forms between his brows, and the corners of his mouth curve down. His concern is palpable, and I can’t help but melt.
I lift my fingers to his face and run my thumb over his upper cheek, right where his dimple hides. He leans into my touch, and his lashes flutter, as if the simplest brush of my thumb is orgasmic.
I’m not used to… this.
I’ve gotten somewhat used to the sex part. It’s easier to accept when I can justify it as basic carnal instinct between two individuals with really fucked-up chemistry.
