Page 94 of The Deal

I choke out a laugh. “I saw.”

“I came, and you were here, and…”

She peers up at me in awe. I always forget how short she is until we’re standing face to face and she has to crane her neck to meet my eyes.

“Let’s have sex,” she announces.

Damned if my cock doesn’t harden again. She feels it, her eyes widening as my heavy erection presses into her belly.

But clearly I’m a masochist, because I say, “No.”

No?

It’s official. I’ve gone insane.

“What do you mean, no?” she demands.

I hold my ground even in the face of her visible disappointment. “Tonight was a big step for you, but I think that’s how we need to handle it from now on. In steps.” I swallow, and force myself to add, “Baby steps.”

An odd glimmer crosses her eyes.

“What?” I say roughly.

“Nothing. That’s just what my therapist used to advise. Baby steps.”

She goes quiet for a long moment, and then the most brilliant smile fills her face and lights up the room. It’s the first time Hannah has smiled at me like that, a smile that truly reaches her eyes, and it makes my heart clench in the strangest way.

“You’re a pretty good guy, Garrett. You know that?”

A good guy? I wish. Fuck, if she could read my mind and see all the dirty images flashing inside it, if she knew all the wicked things I want to do to her, she’d probably recant that statement.

“I have my moments,” I answer with a shrug.

Her smile widens, and my chest cracks wide open.

I know in that moment that I’m in trouble.

I agreed to help her not just because I’m her friend, but because I’m a man. And when a woman asks you to have sex with her and give her an orgasm, you don’t think about it. You say hell yes.

Well, she got the orgasm. She did. And I know I’m going to get the sex. I will.

But right now, all I want is for this girl to smile at me again.

26

HANNAH

“Stop right there!” a sharp voice booms as I hurry toward my bedroom. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

I spin around, startled to find Allie lying on the couch in our common area, balancing one of her icky juice cups on her knee. In my haste, I hadn’t even noticed her.

“What are you doing home?” I ask in surprise. “I thought you have econ on Wednesdays.”

“It got cancelled because the prof is dying.”

I gasp. “Holy shit! Are you serious?”

She snickers. “Well, no. I mean, maybe. He sent out an email saying he’s come down with an illness—” she uses air quotes “—but he didn’t say what the illness was. I like to imagine it’s something bad, though. Because then he won’t be able to teach for the rest of the term and we’ll all get automatic A’s.”

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