Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She turns to watch me. “So…that’s it?” Her voice bristles with indignation. “You’re just going to leave me hanging again?”
Our gazes stay locked as I continue backing away. Once I reach the threshold, I pause. Her cheeks are heated and even though she’s agitated, arousal sparks from her eyes. It takes every ounce of willpower not to shove her against the wall and take her right here in the empty classroom. I don’t care who walks in and sees us. My desire for this girl borders on the obsessive.
If I don’t claw back a small shred of control, she’ll walk all over me.
“Yup, that was the plan.”
“You’re a real jerk,” she snaps, eyes spitting fire.
“Probably.” I flash a grin. “But I’m a jerk you want between those pretty little thighs.”
A small screech erupts from her as I slip from the room.
It’s better to escape before Carina finds an object to throw at my head. Say what you want about her, but she’s got one hell of an arm. If she wasn’t so passionate about dance, she probably could have played softball. Luckily for me, the hallway is deserted, so no one’s around to witness me adjust my junk.
I never realized just how much I enjoy winding her up.
The unintended consequence is that I’m doing the same damn thing to myself.
And there’s only so much more I’ll be able to take before finally claiming what’s mine.
Chapter Seventeen
Carina
Holy crap.
Did that actually just happen?
I can only stare in disbelief at the empty doorway Ford disappeared through.
Exactly how did he gain the upper hand in this relationship?
I wince.
This is in no way a relationship.
It’s screwing.
Plain and simple.
Well…at some point in the not-so-distant future, that’s what it’ll be.
I hope.
Right now, it’s a whole lot of pent-up agitation.
When was the last time I felt like this?
I rack my brain, but nothing immediately jumps to mind. In the past, when I wanted to sleep with someone, I did it.
What’s the point of waiting or playing games?
And when the relationship inevitably ran its course, I moved on. Although, I have to admit, there’s something to be said for the anticipation that’s flooding through me, ramping me up, turning my insides to a quivering mess. Then again, it would probably be best to sleep with the guy and just get it over with.
All right…maybe not get it over with per se.
But it would be in our best interest to douse the flames that continue to flare to life and get back to what we should have been from the very beginning—stepsiblings.
Or ex-stepsiblings, as the case may be.
Even when we were fourteen years old, there was something that simmered between us. As we became friends and spent more time together, the sexual tension grew until it turned oppressive. I’d assumed he snuffed it out senior year of high school. Little did I realize that it’s been clawing beneath the surface this entire time, waiting to burst free.
And here I’d thought that Ford would jump at the chance to fuck me. Especially after I gave him the green light to proceed in the locker room.
But no.
My brows draw together.
I don’t like this.
Not one bit.
It takes another handful of minutes to fight my way free of the sexual haze that’s fallen over me and glance at my watch.
Ugh.
Now I’m late for class.
Damn Ford.
I hustle over to Wilson Hall, where the music, dance, and theater classes are housed. It’s right next to the auditorium. When I rush in late, huffing and puffing, my instructor shoots me a look full of displeasure. I flash an apologetic wave and strip down to my leotard before getting to work. Two hours later, my muscles feel malleable, and my mind is blissfully clear. That’s exactly what dance does for me. I’m able to work my body over until it’s exhausted and in the process, it frees my mind, allowing it to soar.
It’s what helped me through my childhood when I’d stress about where we were living, Mom’s job at the restaurant, or our finances. Dance saved me. It never failed to transport me to a magical place.
As I slip into my jacket and glance at my phone, a message from Juliette pops up, reminding me that we’re supposed to meet for lunch at the Union in five minutes. I swear under my breath before asking her to pick me up a sandwich. Then I grab my bag and race out the door, down the hall, and into the bright sunshine. Even though there’s a distinct chill in the air, the cool breeze feels good against my overheated cheeks.
It takes another ten minutes to haul ass across campus before I step foot inside the Union. Since it’s noon, the place is alive with activity. Everyone is buzzing around, searching for a table to settle at.
My gaze combs over the sea of students, landing on a bunch of rowdy guys from the football team. Well…maybe that’s not altogether true anymore. Once upon a time, they were nothing but womanizing players. Ever since senior year started, they’ve fallen one at a time, slowly becoming domesticated.