Page 11 of The Chemistry of Us

Why hide it?

That was what got you in trouble.

End of story.

But having a stranger, a hot-as-fuck stranger, move in next to me wasn’t something I expected to happen. Yet there I was, lost in thought about her. Except I wasn’t thinking about her ridiculously curvy, petite frame that would usually have my cock standing at attention. It was the way she had the balls to look at me with such disdain from her driveway.

I was used to women glaring at me with hatred. However, it was usually after I fucked them and kicked them to the curb. It was what I excelled at.

Plain and simple.

She hadn’t even met me yet and was already judging me as if I were nothing more than a piece of shit. I wasn’t used to that, and it bothered me more than I cared to admit to him or myself.

Was my new kink about being a total sadist and wanting her to hate me for more than just existing?

Not that I didn’t enjoy watching her pouty pink lips pucker with her black hair lying perfectly against her perky tits in that tiny bikini. Despite our distance, her bright blue eyes still shined my way. Not once did she cower or lower her intense stare from mine as we took each other in for a few seconds.

Her honey-and-vanilla scent lingered in the air, assaulting my senses and every last fiber of my being. The girl was obviously a paradox of contradictions. Her demeanor screamed she hated me, but her body, her body liked me just fine. Which only made me want to get to know her that much more. I loved a challenge as much as the next guy.

“She got to you, didn’t she?” Thomas asked, pulling me away from my thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day. Someone got through to your icy prick?—”

“What part of shut the fuck up did you not understand?”

“Her name’s Tru,” he announced out of nowhere, sending fucking chills down my spine.

What sort of girl had that name, and why did it make me want to learn more about her?

“What?” I glanced at him, playing it cool by shifting into third gear as we made our way down the highway.

“You heard me.” He grinned like a damn fool. “Trudence Remy, to be exact, but according to Marie, people call her Tru.” He showed me his text message. “She’s sixteen and fresh meat, just the way you like them, asshole. She’s here from California. Maybe you could climb into her window tonight, and you guys could have a sleepover?”

The idea had merit, and I hated that I was tempted to fall right into his suggestion.

How did one girl get me to forget myself and all my summer goals?

“I get plenty of pussy on my own, which is more than I can say for you.”

“What can I say? I have high standards. I don't go around fucking everything with a hole. By the way, tell your mom I said hello.”

“Not before you tell your sister she's the best I've ever had, you sick son of a bitch.”

“Touché, motherfucker. Touché.”

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a restaurant, and for the next hour, we shot the shit with random friends who all vacationed with their families in the Hamptons.

When I looked up, I never expected to see the girl I’d been thinking about all afternoon. I just stood there unknowingly, staring at her without realizing I was doing so. Which was entirely uncharacteristic for a guy like me. As if she felt my gaze from across the room, she unexpectedly turned toward me.

Our eyes once again tethered, and for a moment, I saw a certain vulnerability pass through her that I could feel deep within my core. However, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Whatever it was had me questioning my thoughts about her.

I was the first to break our stare before I approached her. My feet moved of their own accord like I was being yanked by a string. Once I was above her, I crouched on the balls of my feet, just a few inches from her face.

“You stalking me now?” I asked with a grin.

It was obvious she was resisting the urge to smile. “I’m not the one sitting at your feet, am I?”

My smile put my dimples prominently on display. My jaw clenched with a certain gleam in my eyes, amused with her banter.

“Well, sweetheart, so it seems I’m right where I belong.”

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