Page 25 of Strike Zone

A derisive noise slips past my lips. “That must be why my parents stopped with me too.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” he says dryly. I whip his thigh with the pair of shorts I was in the process of folding.

His eyes travel slowly from his leg and back to me. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why’s that?” I taunt him.

“Because.” He reaches for the gym shorts I’m holding and attempts to yank them out of my hands. He didn’t anticipate my firm grip and pulls me along with the clothing. I fall forward and slam into his chest.

He steadies me with a hand on my hip. It reminds me of the time I almost fell on my face at the campus store. My body remembers that moment too.

For the second time today, I place a hand on his chest. I tell myself it’s to keep from pressing up against him. I’m not convinced it’s the only reason. My other hand wrestles him for the shorts. With each tug, he pulls me closer and closer.

With no space between us, I feel everything. Including his growing erection. My gaze slowly floats up to meet his. My stomach does a little flip. I will chastise myself about that later.

This is Wyatt I’m dealing with. It doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me. He said so himself that he wasn’t. He probably walks around campus half-mast ready to spring into action.

“Why shouldn’t I have done that?” I ask breathlessly. I wonder if he realizes his grip is getting tighter on my hip. I’m not a small girl yet his palm spans the width of my waist. His stare is intense like he’s attempting to do long division in his head. What are you thinking so hard about?

Suddenly he yanks his shorts hard, throwing me off balance, and I stumble backward onto his bed. “Because this is going to hurt,” he says roughly, spinning the shorts around until they are as thin as a rope. I squeal and scramble towards the middle of the mattress out of his reach.

“Please don’t. I didn’t hit you that hard.” I hold up my hands placating him. He doesn’t seem to care. I crawl further across the queen sized bed. Before I can make it to the other side he snaps his handmade whip across my upper thigh.

On all fours, I stretch out my back, hissing at the sting. “Damn it, Wyatt. That hurt.” I glance at him over my shoulder with anger coursing through my veins.

His focus is on me. More specifically my ass that is currently up in the air. His eyes glaze over and his hands flex at his side.

I am confident in my own skin regardless of my size. However, his intense stare is making me feel self-conscious in this precarious position. I spin around and face him.

The tension is making the air thick and hard to breathe. His silence is unsettling. Unsure what to do, I slide off the bed and continue folding his laundry. I need to do something to quiet my brain. Because right now it’s running wild with thoughts of Wyatt and why he would be looking at me the way he is.

His chest presses against my back. I’m reminded once again of how perfectly his body frames mine. He tosses the shorts on the bed. His fingers graze from the top of my forearm down to my fingers, causing the hair on my arm to rise, and he takes the clothing I’m holding out of my hands.

“Come with me,” he demands. He grabs my backpack and walks out of his bedroom. Where is he going? I follow him down the hall until we reach the den area. He drops my bag on the bar top table. “Sit.”

“I wasn’t finished in there,” I argue.

“Do not test me right now.” He grits the words out with clenched fists. Is he angry? What has him strung so tight? He’s the one who made me fall onto his bed, if that’s what he’s so mad about.

Once I’m sitting in a chair he walks back toward his room. I start pulling out my supplies, books, and laptop. I guess we’re studying now. He enters the room with his laptop and phone.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yep.”

His reply is unconvincing. He’s not even looking at me. His nose is buried in his phone.

“If you say so.” I hop out of my seat to plug in my laptop. I find the slow draining battery signal distracting and panic inducing. The closest outlet is behind the furniture. Not very convenient. I have to bend all the way over the side table and stretch my arm behind the couch. He curses behind me.

“I’m going to get snacks,” he announces. “When I get back, you better be sitting in that chair.”

The commanding tone in his voice sends a tingle down my spine. It also makes me want to push him a little and see what he’ll do if I defy him.

6

WYATT

I open the pantry door and immediately slam it shut. Why is there nothing to eat?

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