Page 34 of Don't Fall

Chapter Nine

Tessa

“Shit.”

Four letters strung together in a foul little word a girl does not want to hear when she can see her panties lying draped over a lamp across the room from her.

I don’t even respond. I just bolt from the bed, yanking the blanket with me. He’s so not seeing this body naked ever again.

“Tess, wait,” he calls out, but his efforts to make me feel welcome are a little late.

“No. No waiting. I have class. I don’t have time to deal with your little crisis right now. No need to worry. I won’t say anything to anyone.” I pull my underwear over my ass and turn back to glare at him. “Believe me.”

He groans, running his hands over his face. “Fuck me.”

“No, thanks. I’m good.” I shimmy into pajama bottoms and grab my t-shirt as I stomp my way toward his bedroom door the best I can in my bare feet, blanket lying in a heap on the floor in place of my clothes. I can hear him shuffling around behind me, probably searching for something to cover up with, but I don’t bother looking back. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not looking anywhere near his direction ever again. So what if we live in the same apartment. That’s what doors are for. Class will be a little bit more complicated, but I’ll still get the gist of things just listening with my eyes closed. People think enough abstract shit about me anyway, what’s one more quirk for them to notice?!

I’m halfway to the door when I decide he ought to know about the new house rules before I leave, so that the never looking, never talking, can start immediately. I spin around, fully prepared to give him an earful when I stop, stumped into temporary silence. He’s here. Right in front of me.

He was coming after me.

“Anyone ever tell you, you’re kind of a hot head?” he asks quietly, his blue eyes darker than normal as they seek out my own and pierce them with a look so deep and so raw it actually hurts inside my chest.

I cross my arms, forming an imaginary shield over my heart, reminding myself that I swore to him he’d never lay a finger on it. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re kind of a prick?!”

He grins. Clearly, he has been told, though I wonder if he’s not been informed of the term’s meaning. Apparently, he deems it a compliment. Then, he adds insult to injury, and starts to laugh at me.

“You find this funny?”

“I do,” he admits, still smirking. Then, slowly, he raises his right hand for me to see. He’s holding up a pen. A busted pen, to be more specific. I’m about to ask what this has to do with anything when he begins to twist around. And then, I see it. Half of his lower back is stained a lovely shade of blue.

“Shit.”

“My sentiments exactly,” he says, quietly laughing again and shaking his head at the pen in his hands. “I was in here last night jotting down some stuff for work when I heard you go out onto the balcony. Apparently, I was a little distracted from that moment forward.”

“So...you didn’t wake up totally regretting last night?” I ask, feeling somewhat stupid now.

He tosses the pen onto the dresser nearby, wipes the excess ink off his fingers onto the sheet he’s got wrapped around his waist, and then places both hands firmly onto my hips, tugging me to him until I’m gently resting against his chest, looking up into his gorgeous eyes. “This is the first morning in months, I’ve woken up regretting nothing at all.”

I arch a brow and pull back ever so slightly. “Really? Nothing? No lingering doubts about any of this?” I mean, feeling full-on remorse worthy of four letter curse words was a bit hard to stomach, but I’d think the whole sleeping with a student thing would still give him at least a twinge of concern where his current employment is concerned.

“I told you. I’m not attached to the gig. Not attached to much of anything right now. Just kind of rolling with things.”

I nod, still feeling somewhat skeptical of his whole ‘let the chips fall where they may’ attitude. My instinct to organize and control is at serious odds with the entire sordid concept. “Alrighty then.”

“What about you? You freaking out at all about what we did?”

I turn my lower lip out and shrug. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Good.” His lips brush over mine, moving down along my jaw, placing soft kisses all the way down my neck until he reaches my collar bone. “Because I was kind of hoping we could do it again,” he murmurs, his hot breath moving over my skin, teasing me briefly before his tongue follows, continuing the trail down.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, head rolling back as I close my eyes giving into all the delicious feelings he triggers so exquisitely.

I’m so caught up in the moment, I hardly register the knocking. By the third time it gets harder to ignore.

“Someone’s here,” I rasp, trying to catch my breath.

“They can come back later.” His mouth smothers mine and I’m willing to forget about the knocking all over again.

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