Page 70 of Collision
He tries to make his face serious, with little success. “So, let’s see if I’ve got this right.” He rests Sparky, my stuffed bunny, on his lap. “You still sleep with stuffed animals, which means you’re a big baby. You like TV shows.” He points to the shelf above the TV, where a variety of box sets are stored. “Which tells me that your real life bores you. You’re an incurable romantic,” he continues, gesturing to my bookshelf full of romance novels. “And you probably suffer from the same disorder as your mother.” He looks at me smugly. “How’d I do?”
I frown. “The same disorder as my mother? Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s the books arranged in order of height or the shoes in order of color… Or maybe it’s the military precision with which you organize your desk during class. Seriously, your family has a real problem,” he insists.
I’m beginning to feel annoyed. “Give it a rest. I like things to be in their place, in the right way. I’m a tidy person, nothing more,” I say, trying to minimize the issue.
“What if I were to, purely by accident, make a mess of everything right now? Here, maybe?” He gets up and walks toward my bookcase.
“That depends: do you have a death wish?”
“Actually, I’ve got another kind of wish…” He gives me a cheeky smile. I blush but force myself to glare indignantly. Which only amuses him more. “Or I can just sit in this chair and contemplate the ceiling.” He makes himself comfortable, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his knees. He drops his gaze to my legs, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Instinctively, I cross them, feeling a wave of heat invade my body.
Dammit, why does he always have to be so attractive?
“You’re not contemplating shit. Now, you can get up and go back to the dormitory, or you can go back to the party, but you can’t stayhere,” I retort when I manage to recover from the visual aphrodisiac he presents.
“The frat party wasn’t much fun. Just when it was about to get fun, my roommate called me. Does that ring a bell?”
“Oh, no!” I press a hand to my chest, pretending to be pained. “I’m so sorry I ruined your night. But in all honesty, Thomas, no one asked you to come to my house. You could have just stayed there and…scratched your itch,” I retort acidly.
“Yes, I could have. In fact, I should have,” he underscores the point. “I’d be having a much better time.”
I am shocked by his lack of tact. “You’re an asshole, Thomas.” He’s an insensitive, arrogant, mercurial jerk who enjoys testing my patience.
“I’ve been holding myself back quite a bit with you. You should be thanking me, not getting pissy.” The satisfied expression he gives me is enough to make me lose my patience. Without a second thought, I throw one of the stuffed animals in my hands and I hit him square in the face.
“Shit, you got me right in the eye. What’s in this thing?” He brings a hand to his face.
Oh no. Caught up in the heat of the moment, I threw Nina at him, the mother kangaroo in which I keep my earrings and bracelets. He rubs his forehead as I leap to his aid. I reach out and take his face gently in my hands.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” But I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence, because Thomas gets up, grabs me by the waist, and throws me onto the bed.
“You really are too naive, little one.” He straddles me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand and tickling my side with the other.
“Oh God, stop!” I laugh so hard that the words come out strangled.
“Were you trying to kill me with a stuffed animal, Ness?” He teases me mercilessly.
“Thomas, I’m begging you, stop!” I writhe, trying to free myself from him. I can’t. He’s too strong; his fingers tickle my neck, my sides,my belly. I can’t resist any longer. “Okay, okay you win! Enough!” I say with tears in my eyes. Only then does he loosen his grip.
“I always win, remember that.”
“You’re twice my size, and you lured me in under false pretenses. That’s what is called an easy win,” I answer, pretending to be offended.
“You gotta play the cards you’re dealt.” Heboopsme on the nose with one finger, then we hold still and look at one other as the smiles fade from our lips. A few minutes ago, I was so angry at him, and now I have tears in my eyes from laughing. “You should do that more often.”
“What, hit you with stuffed animals?”
“No. Laugh,” he whispers, dangerously close to my mouth. “It puts you in a different light.” It’s breathtaking and, when he touches my lip with his free hand, I shudder. Instinctively, I part my lips.
“Everything okay?” he asks with an insolent little smile.
“Everything okay?” I’ve lost the ability to produce saliva and my heart has gone crazy. I feel pinned by the intensity of his gaze, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of his body as it is pressed against mine. Stunned by his unmistakable vetiver scent.
Nevertheless, I manage to nod. He grins, pleased with himself. He gets even closer and my heartbeat speeds up dramatically. He confidently positions himself between my parted legs. Every cell in my body quivers.
“What-what are you doing?” I gasp.
