Page 52 of The Thought of You

“No.” She shoots me a pointed stare. “My weighted blanket does.”

“Anything your weighted blanket can do, I can do better, and I can do more.”

Strokes of deep crimson brush across her cheeks. I start to believe I’m winning her over, but then she pulls the damn rug out from under me.

“I want to be principal here someday. Future principals aren’t floozies who jump into bed with their hunky co-workers.”

“Hunky, huh?”

“Future principals don’t get involved with the people they work with. They’re ethical and responsible, and they don’t give in to every urge just because that co-worker dropped off dinner for them once. We don’t even have anything in common, Owen.” She gulps, and I follow the movement with more focus than I ever did a baseball flying at my face. “We should forget my moment of insanity. Let’s pretend I never kissed you, okay?” The final word leaves her lips on an exhale, and it resembles a pant. It’s similar to the breathy sound she made the other night when she kissed me.

It drives me fucking wild.

“No can do, angel.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“I’m being honest, unlike yourself.”

As I step closer, she visibly steels herself like she’s bracing her body against a strong wind.

I lick my lips. “Our kiss wasn’t the kind of kiss you ignore. It was the kind you remember forever. The kind that’s seared into your memory like a tattoo. So, you see, pretending it never happened is like trying to ignore ink engraved into your skin. It’s impossible.” I stop just short of her, my hands still trapped away. “And if you think I’m obsessed with you after a single taste… well, then, you’re absolutely correct.”

Her lips part as she angles her head to the side to peer up at me.

“You don’t really want me to let this go,” I urge.

“You’re wrong.”

I squint as I study her closed eyes and heaving chest. After a beat, I raise my hands, palms facing her. “If you really want me to forget, fine. I’ll never speak of it again.”

She blinks.

“Happy?”

Addie purses her lips and fidgets with her fingers.

I cock a brow.

“You’re giving up just like that?” she demands. “What happened to wanting me to beg? To being obsessed with me? To being seared into your memory?”

One side of my lips lifts. “I meant every word. But I don’t make a habit of pursuing someone who insists they don’t have feelings for me.”

She shifts but makes no other effort to leave. This is her chance to turn around and walk away. To abandon the whole matter and any possibility of us in the privacy of this room.

But she continues standing here and staring at me, her chest heaving harder and faster as her pants fill the space between us.

“Unless I was right, and you don’t want me to let this go,” I venture, purposely toying with her. Her squirming is pretty fucking fun.

“I do. I mean, I don’t… know. You’re confusing me.”

“It’s yes or no, Lockhart. That simple.”

She licks her lips. “Maybe.” Her voice holds more of a question than confidence.

“I can work with maybe.” I lean down and rasp against her lips. “I affect you. And you leave me no other choice but to show you how perfect we could be together.”

I make my way out of the Health room, my head high as I whistle an upbeat tune to match my mood. If she protests to my promise or says anything else at all, it’s drowned out by the bell and my racing mind.

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