Page 28 of Under the Influence
How R Ufeeling?
Exhausted. Confused. Stupid. Loved. Stalked.Better than I should after all wedrank.
LOL! Me 2. Nice of Tucker to take us home. Much better than a grimycab.
Yes, he’s a good guy.Even though I can’t always say the same about hisboss.
I think so 2. Love U friend. Merry Christmas! Can’t wait for New Year’sEve!
I can’t even think past this moment.Same here! Love U2!
Shoving the cell across the cool marble surface, I tug my computer closer. Completely cognizant he won't allow me to work in peace. Not until I give him what he wants. So I might as well get some studying done before the confrontation begins. I just need to get through Monday and then I really am leaving. He can't stop me no matter what hethinks.
She's been in there for hours. Hunched over her laptop. Furiously jotting notes in her binder. Twisting her long hair in a bun and letting the thick strands fall again while she reads the tiny print on the screen. My girl workshard.
I love that about her. What I hate is that she has to. I never thought about the impact of being dumped would have on her school performance. The perfect four point o ruined by me. Punished once again for me being a stupid bastard. I was this close to having Sutton hack in the system and change her grades to ones she really deserves. But as much as I would love to see her all riled up about the improvement, she would never be happy or accept myduplicity.
She'll deny her reaction later, but I fucking loved how much her face lit up when she saw the book shelves. An easy yet permanent way to remind her how well I would take care of her. If she would only letme.
So deep in thought she jumps a bit when her phone vibrates across the new desk. That she seems to like too. A soft smile crosses her lips. I wait for the few seconds it takes for Sutton to forward me the message shereceived.
Good luck with your finals sweetie. I know you’ll do great. Call me if you needanything.
A text from her mom, DeAnne. Nice lady. A little bit flighty, but a genius like Books. Guess you’d have to be brilliant to be a scholar in ancient Greek literature. Always quoting famous philosophers and engaging in voracious debates with her husband who’s a book geektoo.
When she stretches her arms over her head, the arch of her back and thrust of her huge tits forward is my downfall. I set my tumbler on my own desk and switch off the monitor before I stride from my office to theden.
She’s back to scribbling notes on her legal pad by the time I reach her and doesn’t even look up when I step behind her. Ignoring me. That’s fine. I love seducingher.
My hands curl over her slender shoulders and massage the tight muscles. So fucking delicate under my fingers I have to restrain my power to keep from crushing her petite bones. Touching her makes me instantly hard, but her mewl of pleasure almost makes me explode. Fuck she’s sexy. “Feelgood?”
Her slight moan of agreement flashes straight to my balls. “Please don't everstop.”
“Don’t worry, angel. Iwon’t.”
“I don’t want you to, but I need to go for myrun.”
I need to get you into my bed. “I’ll go withyou.”
As if she suddenly realizes she’s let her defenses down, she leans forward, breaking the contact between us, and slides out of her chair. Pushing space between us. Pushing meaway.
“That’s okay. You don’t haveto.”
Damn, what she’s really saying is she doesn’t want me to. I’m not going to lie – it hurts. We always worked out together. Most of the time ending up fucking on the mats in the gym. Already sweaty and with her wearing those thick sports bras stretched thin, barely containing her gorgeous tits, and those tiny shorts, I couldn’t fucking help myself. “I wantto.”
Uncertainty lines her forehead and she tucks her slender fingers inside the edges of her sleeves. I’m making her nervous, and I don’t understandwhy.
“Where are my clothes? I need to change andI…”
Now I fucking get her apprehension. She mistakenly thinks I’m going to ravish her the second she strips down. Which I sure as hell want to. But I can’t. I have to force myself to take this reconciliation as slow as she wants. As long as she needs to trust me again. I’ve got her here, and I'm never letting her go again. I know I can convince her. I must convince her. “In ourroom.”
“'Our'...room?” Her trembling arms wrap around herself. Slaying me that she sounds so fucking doubtful after we connected earlier. “You know this is only temporary. Idon't–.”
"No it's not." Fuck gentle. I’m on her. Grasping her arms to lift her up to me. Forcing her to give me her complete attention. She told me earlier what I had to stop saying to her. Now I'm going to demand the same in return. “I'm tired of hearing all the things 'we aren't' or 'can't do' from you. If you don’t want me to see your gorgeous body naked yet or have you sleep in my bed, I will fucking hate it. But I will fucking deal with it. Because, I don't give a damn what you say or what you do. We are not fucking temporary, and I'm damn sure going to prove it toyou.”
I know I'm fucking crazy, but I swear I see a flicker of belief softening the suspicion glowing in her expression. The love, camouflaged for too damn long behind her sorrow, shines through her gaze. Before the sentiment hides again. Concealed by the doubt scaring her heart. Masking the optimism trying to spark. That I'm going to fucking ignite with fucking dynamite if I haveto.
"Don't youunderstand?"
