Page 52 of The Substitute
Tobi: Sure, we’ll go with that
Savage: No, tell me what you were going to say.
The heat in my cheeks shoots down my neck even though he can’t see me. It’s stupid.
Tobi: I need to study.
Savage: Am I distracting you, baby girl?
The muscles deep in my stomach flutter, and my skin tingles. Fucking Christ. Why do I like the nickname? I’m so pathetic. He’s probably not even flirting—maybe he’s like this with everyone? That would make more sense.
I flip my phone over and find the chapter I need to study. After an hour, my stomach is starting to cramp, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than food. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but I jolt when there’s a bang near me.
Popping my eyes open, I look up to find Savage grinning down at me.
“This seat taken?” He smirks.
My heart is in my throat, and I’m breathing like I outran a lion. “Clearly not.”
“Sassy.” He takes the chair next to me and pulls mine closer to his.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you before I—before Monday.” He grins and scoots closer.
There is so much I want to say, but it’s too vulnerable, so I force myself to ignore him when all I want to do is sit in his damn lap. I purposefully keep my eyes on the textbook. Goosebumps break out over my skin when his breath fans over my neck.
“I came all the way over here to help you study. Ignoring me is rude.”
Spinning my head to look at him, I’m startled to find us nose to nose. Christ. I swallow and am acutely aware of the bobbing of my Adam’s apple.
“I didn’t ask you to.” My tone isn’t as strong as I had hoped.
“You didn’t have to. That’s the point.” Savage flicks the tip of my nose with his in a playful move. It’s…cute and somehow intimate. I’m not sure how to respond to it or what it means.
The knot in my throat is hard to swallow around. When I lean back, he’s watching. It makes me nervous and hot. His attention isa fire along my skin, deadly, but the warmth seeps into my bones that I’ve been missing.
It’s dangerous.
I open my mouth to tell him to go, but my stomach makes a horrifyingly loud groan instead.
“You get hangry—good to know.” The large man sits back in his chair, putting his arm along the back of mine. “Where do you want to go eat?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t want to eat?”
“I need to study.”
A big, warm hand finds my leg under the table, and once again, his breath drags over my neck. “Not taking care of yourself will lead to burnout so fast your head will spin. So, I’m going to feed you.”
“I don’t need you to feed me. I can feed myself,” I snap, embarrassed by how much I like him taking control instead of asking me a hundred questions. His grip on my thigh tightens in a delicious threat that both turns me on and makes me nervous. I suck in a breath and try not to react.
“Pack up your stuff. You’re going to take a break before your head explodes.”
My shoulders droop in a sigh of relief that I don’t have to make a choice, though a part of me wants to argue just because. I shouldn’t want to take orders, right? No self-respecting adult wants to be bossed around.
I don’t say anything, just shove my stuff in my bag and follow him out of the library. I don’t have the brain space to argue with myself, much less with another person.
