Page 36 of Notorious Man on Campus

“Me too.” We stand for a few beats, but I’m aware of other people wandering outside and when I see Allie through the door looking our way, I release my hold. I don’t need to give anyone, especially her, the wrong impression. Again.

“Let’s take a little walk.” She takes my hand and leads me off the patio onto the grass without waiting for me to agree out loud. Guess she’s getting my very distinct nonverbal cues and I better start getting those under control.

“So how’s the family? How’s Jimmy doing?”

I stop short. Fuck. “Why do you care?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I care about a lot of people.”

“That’s right. You’re a caring person. I forgot.”

“I care about you, too and before you brush me off, I can prove it.” What the fuck?

“How’s that?” My heart hammers and my mind races around trying to figure out what’s going on. How did this conversation get so out of control, so off-limits that we may as well be on the other side of the moon. First Jimmy and now…

She takes piece of paper from her small bag, unfolds it, and hands it to me. I recognize the worn, creased paper, the juvenile handwriting.

One taboo subject after another.

Chapter 14

Nyla

His hand shakes as he holds the letter, and emotions beat their wings around him like caged butterflies not knowing where to go upon release. Maybe this is it. Maybe my gamble to shake him up is paying off, unbottling everything he’s trying to hold inside. In the drama of that last day I saw him four years ago, the day I was fired and asked to leave, too many hurtful things happened and I never had a chance to give him back the letter I’d found. I’d forgotten I had it until much later and since then I’ve treasured it with equal parts tender longing and misery.

“You still have this.” His voice vibrates. “Why? And why are you giving it to me now?”

“To prove I have no intention of ruining your life.” To rattle you, to prove I care about you and understand you. “I’m not going to show anyone the letter or talk about any of your—no, make that our—secrets. I never told Majik a thing about us, only what we agreed to tell her. That I worked for your family and dated your brother for a short while. That’s all she knows and all she’s ever going to know. Unless you tell her.”

“Why the fuck would I tell her anything?”

“You’ve already told her about your mom and stepmothers.”

He stares accusingly, but he pulls me close, holding tight and I can’t tell if it’s fury he’s holding back or something else, something even more dangerous. Like desire.

“That means nothing. I’m over it.”

“Really? Is that why you made a scene at the wedding today?”

He stares and then blows out a breath and looks to the starry sky. There’s a chill in the air, but I barely feel it.

“So, I don’t believe in marriage. I’m not the only one and my dad is the perfect example of why I don’t. It doesn’t mean anything. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Except you nearly ruined your best friend’s wedding,” I whisper. He shuts his eyes and leans his head against my forehead.

“What do you want from me, Nyla? An apology? A confession?”

“I want you. All of you, your entire heart and soul, opened up and bare so I can soothe it, so you can heal.”

His head shoots up and he laughs, or tries to, but I hear that telltale nervous vibration that comes from deep inside a person when they’re exposed.

“Don’t you already have all that? It’s not like I can put the genie back in the bottle.” His voice is rusty, pained, his look raw, hurt, and I see that lost-boy look, that hopeful vulnerability, that fear of being crushed yet again. My heart bleeds and pounds and all thought, all barriers disappear because I’m the one that put them there, not Brick.

Taking his face in my two hands, I kiss him, hard and deep and fast. I’m prepared to struggle to have him, to keep him, to show him the other side of that scary edge, the one where he lets his guard down enough to feel, to give in to feelings and emotions and allow the messiness to rule, to disregard the risks and the possibility of an awful outcome. We’ve already had that awful outcome, haven’t we? What else is there left to lose?

He grips my shoulders to push me away and I whimper into his mouth, pushing myself into him against the stone wall of the building.

When he breaks, I feel the rupture, hear the snap. Vibrating with trauma and need, he wraps his arms around me, cupping my ass, and pulls me against him. My hips grind against his rock-hard erection, making me dizzy with desire. And he kisses me back. My knees almost buckle with the sensations of his tongue in my mouth, his lips pressed hard against mine, and his cock pressed even harder against my sweet spot. His hands dig into my flesh as if the flimsy slip of a dress wasn’t there and I wish it wasn’t. Breathing hard, he lifts his mouth from mine and moves off the wall where he’d been pinned.