Page 4 of Meeting Melody
“I’m not playing a game with you,” I say. “Get out of my house.”
He straightens, but before I can stop him, he reaches out and pinches a lock of my hair. He twirls it in his fingers, and his expression turns contemplative. His eyes are piercing straight into my soul. A shiver racks through me, and I sway on my feet.
“I need to pass your class,” he says. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do that.”
“Except the work,” I shoot back.
He shrugs, still fixated on my hair. Better than my breasts, or my ass, or one of my other less fortunate body parts.
“I’ve tried. I’m hopeless. And I’m running out of time. So here’s how it’s going to go.”
I raise my eyebrows.
He meets my gaze. His eyes are blue with a starburst of gold in the center. Easier to see up close than from across the classroom.
For fuck’s sake, Melody.
“I get the feeling you don’t like things being out of your control,” he comments. “If I can get you to lose control—I win.”
He’s right about that. Too much of my life has been spent…spinning.
“And what ifyoulose control?”
He lifts one shoulder. “If I lose control first, you win. Easy.”
Easy.
Yeah, right.
My need for control is why I’m more comfortable in front of a classroom, following my syllabus, going over every talking point I’ve rehearsed in the mirror, than I’ll ever be with a group of friends.
I have three friends from my own college days, and one from high school.
That’s it.
We manage to get together once in a while, when our schedules line up, but it’s not a guaranteed thing. It hasn’t been since we joined the real world.
“What does out of control look like?” I ask in a low voice.
He puts his mouth against my ear. “Your control snapping will be when you can’t take it anymore and finally kiss me.” His breath is hot on my skin, and then he’s straightening. He moves toward my door at a glacier pace, his gaze still locked on me.
I eye him until he turns and leaves. Once the door shuts behind him, I rush toward it and flip the lock.
It’s strange how empty my house feels without him in it. Without his presence—and he was only here for moments.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
And underneath that is a familiar sensation. Lust. Desire. I’m wildly out of control in this exact moment, and he left not a moment too soon.
I’munhinged.
I slide to the floor right there and spread my legs. I slip my hand into my panties and touch my slick center.
An unholy moan leaves my mouth. My head falls back against the door.
And a deranged part of me hopes Jacob has lingered outside.
So he can hear every filthy sound.
