Page 40 of Withered

“Nah.” He clicks his tongue and says, “I would have spent a lot more money on the same thing I ate here.”

I roll my eyes at him and say, “You should leave. I’m going to go grab a book to read.”

“You are going to spend your free time reading?” He asks me with an incredulous look on his face.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I can be very productive.”

He rolls his eyes and says, “You are no fun, Rose.”

“I’m okay the way I am.” I shrug. Kristy is my only source of fun. When she drags me out of my room to anywhere she pleases.

I step out of the kitchen, hoping he’d go once I did, but he grabs my wrist and jerks me back, pinning me against the wall.

“What are you doing, Jake? Are you crazy?”

He’s only inches away from me. I try to back up, but I’m sandwiched between the wall and him.

He’s looking at me with that heated gaze—eyes dangerously green with soft corners. His firm grip on my wrist sends electric sparks all over my body again, and I’m getting a weird feeling in my stomach. Something I like and dislike at the same time. He’s not only capable of giving me butterflies, but he can give me a whole damn zoo.

Jake’s body is pressed so close to mine that I inhale his scent, which was a wrong move on my part, as I am gone now. My senses have officially died.

I want to say something as I crane my neck to look at him, but my voice gets stuck in my throat, and my breathing becomes heavier by the second as he approaches closer.

“What are you doing?” I am surprised to hear my voice.

He doesn’t say anything; instead, he moves his fingers along my other arm, torturing me. He grabs my wrist and laces our fingers together, never breaking eye contact with me.

I look down at my hand. Even in such a situation, a giggle escapes my lips. My hands are so small compared to his.

He notices my sudden behavior change. “You are a piece of art,” he says this while taking a step back and allowing me room to breathe.

“It’s just that you have such big hands,” I chuckle.

“My hands aren’t big. Yours are tiny,” he replies.

There is a moment of silence. No one speaks, and I don’t dare look at him. I bite my lip very hard, the proximity making me nervous. I can’t believe whatever is happening right now.

“You are kind of turning me on,” he groans.

My stunned gaze leaps to his, where he is staring at my lips. No one has ever said stuff like that to me before. He lets go of my hand, now resting it on my waist, his fingers brushing over my exposed stomach. I’ve never liked it when people touched me in any way, but I’m glad I wore a crop top today.

“I-” I try to form a sentence to say something, but I don’t know what to say.

I should have left the moment he pulled me away. I should have pushed him or done something. I hate to admit this, but I do like it here. With him.

He seems different around me, and if I’m being honest, I kind of like it. Just the proximity is different for me. I have never been with a boy, ever, and suddenly this hot and sexy British boy has to come in and wreck me.

He starts leaning in closer, his eyes turning that dark green shade again. When his nose brushes against mine, my mouth becomes as dry as sand. Jake groans as I lick my bottom lip.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs before slamming his mouth on mine. His lips never start smoothly; they are all rough and urgent with need as they mold against me perfectly, like they were made for each other.

My mouth is already parted, which gives him easy access. He eases his tongue in and explores every inch of mine. I’m stunned—too stunned to react this time. I was high on a foolish brownie yesterday, but I can’t do it now that I’m sober. This is a lot to take in. I don’t kiss him back, and I don’t push him away either.

“Why aren’t you kissing me back?” He asks as he groans against my lips.

He hasn’t backed away; his upper lip is still touching my bottom one, making it difficult for me to say, “W-we… I can’t do this, Jake.”

“Why not? We’ve done this before,” he whispers in a low voice, sounding both hurt and annoyed.

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