Page 7 of A Little Tempting

“Can I have your number, Thorne?”

He’s close. Too close. I can almost feel his breath against my cheek. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I imagined this entire interaction. It wouldn’t be the first time I daydreamed about having a simple conversation with the opposite sex without making a fool of myself. Oh, wait. I kind of already did make a fool out of myself, thanks to Dr. Broderick calling us out, so apparently, we’re still very stuck in reality, and I need to focus.

“Thorne,” Reeves repeats, “What’s your number?”

Refusing to look his way, I seethe, “Will you please be quiet?”

“Let me guess. This is the first time you’ve ever been in trouble for talking in class. Am I right?” Amusement taints his voice, but I can’t decide if it’s mocking or innocent, and I’m not about to look at him to find out.

Then again, I’m not sure it matters, anyway. He’s still causing a scene, and if Dr. Broderick calls me out again, I’ll lose it. Scooting my chair a little further away from my new partner, I let out a quiet huff and throttle the pen in my hand as if it were Reeves’ neck.

The same familiar rip sounds from his side of the desk, but I don’t acknowledge it when a piece of lined paper is placed in front of me.

Ignoring it, I try paying attention to Mr. Broderick’s lecture. But it’s hard. Like, really hard. Especially when the stupid piece of paper is in my periphery. Taunting me. Making me curious and anxious and?—

“Class is dismissed,” Dr. Broderick announces. “I’ll see you next week.”

I grab my things and shove them into my bag, leaving the paper on the desk as I stand, or at least attempt to. My foot catches on the chair leg, and I practically face plant into Reeves’ lap.

His. Freaking. Lap.

In an attempt to catch myself, I brace my arms in front of me, grazing his crotch with my palm as I stand there shell-shocked. The only thing between me and his semi-hard dick is the denim of his jeans.

Holy shit, I’m touching a dick.

I’ve never touched a dick before. I’ve never even seen a dick up close and personal. Well, at least not one outside of a textbook picture. And here it is. In my freaking hand.

My head snaps up, and my eyes widen in shock when they connect with a very amused Reeves as the snake in his pants twitches beneath my palm.

“You know, if you wanted to cop a feel, all you had to do was ask.”

I jerk away from him and stand up, fumbling with my backpack at our feet as my brain races to catch up with what the hell just happened. Yup. I most definitely felt up whatever-his-first-name-is Reeves in front of my entire class. Kill me now. Our classmates laugh around us while my cheeks burn with an embarrassment so deep I feel it in my soul. Keeping my eyes glued to the ground, I slip past the back of his chair and race into the hall.

It’s official.

I need to drop photography. Stat.

2

REEVES

Snatching my number from the desk, I follow Dylan into the hallway, waving to a few familiar faces as I catch up to her.

“Slow down,” I order.

“Nope. No, thank you.” Dylan dodges between a group of people exiting one of the rooms, and I follow suit until we make it outside. Reaching for her arm, I yank her to a halt and say, “Breathe.”

Her nostrils flare, and her hands tighten around her backpack straps. The girl looks like she’s about to puke as her eyes dart around the rolling green hills and tall brick buildings surrounding us, desperate to look at anything but me.

“Where’s the main office?” she asks.

I frown. “Huh?”

“You know, the main office. For adding and dropping classes and stuff.”

“You want to drop a class?”

Finally gracing me with a glimpse of those aquamarine irises that are somehow bluer than Griffin’s and greener than Jaxon’s, she gives me an are-you-stupid look. “Uh, yeah. Duh.”

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