Chapter 17
AVERY MOORE
“I’m going to work. Do you need anything?” Ivy asks, popping into my doorway. “I can stop somewhere on the way back.”
She’s pulling her hair into a tight bun, the bun she always wears when she works at the diner, claiming it keeps it from dipping into unwanted syrup. It makes her face look sharper, too, but I’ve noticed that Dustin likes it when her hair is down. He always toys with it when he’s over.
I’ve often fantasized about what it would be like to have Reid play with my hair that way.
I haven’t seen or heard from Reid since last night, which is fine.
Sort of. I miss him. I miss the way his hand held mine, the way he kissed me, and the way he spoke to me.
And I was right about the walls returning once I stepped out of that theater and back into reality.
However, they’re not as strong as they once were.
“No,” I say, looking back at my notebook.
“Not even a midnight snack?” She does that single eyebrow raise again, and again, I wonder how the hell she does that.
I shake my head. When Reid grabbed onto my waist last night, I was keenly aware of my weight. Neil would have never held me like that at this size. Hell, Neil never kissed me like that either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still have insecurities just because Reid appears to be different.
“Not even a milkshake?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll be fine, but thanks though.”
She eyes me skeptically, and I try not to shrivel under her gaze. I always ask for a snack, so she’s probably wondering why tonight is different. “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” I say firmly, picking up my textbook again.
“Okay.” She shrugs and then points at me. “You look adorable by the way.”
I look down at my too-big shirt and loose pajama shorts with flowers printed all over them. I’m not wearing a bra or underwear either, but she doesn’t need to know that.
With an amused expression, I look back up at her. “I tried so hard for this look,” I say sarcastically. “I’m glad my hard work paid off.”
She shrugs. “You just look more relaxed than you have in a long time. Is this…does this have anything to do with the kiss I saw last night?”
“Nope,” I lie.
“You’re such a terrible liar,” she says, laughing. “I’m glad to see the old you coming back.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Okay,” she breathes. She straightens her skirt. “I’m off. I’ll catch you tomorrow if you’re not up when I get back.”
I nod and then wave her off, diving deep into the Spanish assignment due the day after tomorrow.
I get lost in the work, going over Ivy’s and my notes and the highlighted words in the textbook.
At some point, I turn on the music to a low volume, and before I can sit back on my bed, a knock sounds at the door.
Frowning, I head out of my room and to the door. I pull it open, thinking it’s Ivy, who has forgotten her keys, but instead, I find Reid standing there, looking nervously back at Dustin’s door.
He’s holding purple roses in one hand and his backpack in the other. “Reid?” I hiss, nervous that my brother will find us. Literally, all he has to do is open the door to find us. “What are you doing here?”
He cringes. “Can I come in?”
I step aside and let him in, softly shutting the door behind him. His massive frame feels like it takes up most of the apartment, and his delicious scent curls around the space in a matter of seconds.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He smiles when he turns to look at me. I glance at the flowers when he holds them out for me. “I brought you flowers.”
My heart warms. “What for?”
“Because I like you.” He shrugs. “And I have to butter you up.”
I take the flowers from him and push my nose against the petals, inhaling. He remembered my favorite flower, and the notion doesn’t go unnoticed. “Butter me up for…?”
He holds up his backpack while glowering. “Homework.”
I laugh a little and set the flowers on the table. “Let me guess: Your notes are as crappy as mine.”
Grimacing, he admits, “Guilty.”
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is why our little conversations in class shouldn’t be happening.” I say it, but I don’t mean it. In fact, I find myself looking forward to the next Spanish class so that we can find out more about each other.
All he does is shrug. “Help me?”
“Well, you’re in luck, actually. I was just working on the assignment.”
His face lights up. “Really? What would you say about doing it together?”
I twist my lips to the side, contemplating. Being in my bedroom with him again will be torture because I remember literally everything about the last time we were in there.
He sees my hesitation. “Please?” he begs.
Defeated, knowing I can’t resist him, I wave him toward my room. He follows me down the hall, and once he’s inside my bedroom, he has a look around. “It looks different in the light.”
His eyes land on the bed, and I blush because I know he’s remembering what happened there.
“Um,” I begin, pushing a hand through my hair. I travel over to the bed and make room for him. “You can sit here.”
He opens his backpack and pulls out his textbook, notes, and supplies.
Instead of sitting, he crawls onto my bed and lies down on his stomach, propping the book on my pillow.
I can’t help but zero in on his ass. It’s perfectly round, and the muscles ripple as he shifts his legs around, getting comfortable.
Once he’s set up, he looks back at me. “Coming?”
“This is a bad idea,” I admit.
He laughs and pats the spot beside him. “We can keep our hands to ourselves.”
Yeah. Maybe you can. But I’ll be thinking about it the entire time.
Waving me over, he pulls out his notes, glances over, and sees Ivy’s notes.
He picks those up as I climb onto the bed with my stomach twisting into knots.
Hell, I’m not even wearing a bra, and he hasn’t commented on it, so maybe he will keep his hands to himself.
Do I even want that? Damn my body for betraying me.
“These are amazing notes,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, Ivy was nice enough to give them to me.”
He glances over at me, and his eyes fall to my chest. I follow his gaze down and find my nipples pebbled. Shit.
“Eyes up here,” I whisper.
He flicks his gaze to mine, and for a moment, I find heat in them before he shakes his head. “Sorry. They’re just…sorry.”
“Men and boobs,” I tease, rolling my eyes.
He laughs. “I’m a guy. I notice these things, especially on a hot girl.”
“Ah, so you look at half of the female population’s boobs.”
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ and going back to the notes. “Just yours.”
I stare at the side of his face for a little too long because he looks back at me and shakes the notes. “Eyes on the homework, Avery.”
“Right.” I clear my throat and pick up my textbook. I reread a paragraph three times before my eyes start roaming his backside. His shirt is tight enough to reveal the muscles in his back, and they flex every time he leafs through the notes.
Every part of my body thrums right now, and I squirm as a need arises between my legs.
“You can touch, you know,” he whispers while he jots down some notes on his laptop.
“Touch what?” I whisper back.
“Me.”
“That would be distracting.”
He looks over at me, and we stare at each other for a while. “You’re already distracted,” he points out huskily.
I wet my bottom lip as he flips over, homework forgotten, and rests his hands behind his head. My eyes skate along his body, all the way down to the erection pressing against his jeans.
I gulp.
“How about this? You get to touch me until it gets too heated.”
“I don’t know…”
“Touch me, Avery.”
I flick my gaze back to his and find that the heat has returned and that he’s completely serious. Being braver than I feel, I reach and slip my hand under his shirt. His skin ripples as my fingers trace over his abs, but he holds still, letting me explore.
When my hand travels higher, he lifts himself slightly off the bed and takes off his shirt. Saliva pools in my mouth as his abs contract until he lies back down. His body is that of a god and my mouth salivates at the sight of him.
“Stop,” he whispers.
“Your turn?”
He nods and props himself up on an elbow.
He reaches and brushes his finger against my ankle.
Slowly, his hand travels up my calf as I count my breaths to keep them even.
His fingers leave a burning sensation as they travel, and when he starts touching my inner thigh, my breathing quickens despite my efforts.
He skates his hand by my shorts, toying with the hem of them.
“Stop,” I hiss out.
“Again?”
I nod, and he lies back down. I press my hand to his forearm, skating it up his arm and leisurely over his shoulder.
His skin is like butter, smooth and silky.
I let my fingers trail over his collarbone, and his eyes flutter when I travel between his pecks.
My hand goes lower, dipping between each ab, and when I reach his belly button, I circle it.
His stomach hollows out and then flexes.
I’m mesmerized by the way his body responds, and I push them even lower, toying with the waistband of his jeans.
His cock jumps when I slip them under and run my fingers from hip bone to hip bone.
Through gritted teeth, he says, “Stop.”
We’re both breathing hard at this point, our inhales and exhales in time with each other. He props himself back on his elbow and reaches once more. His hand goes for the waistband of my shorts and slips up my shirt.
I freeze.
His eyes flick to mine, and he stops his advance. He must sense my rising panic because he murmurs, “I happen to like your curves, Avery. Relax for me.”
I take a deep breath, and on my exhale, he begins moving again. Without seeing where he’s going, because my shirt is in the way, his calloused palm moves along my stomach. I begin to relax while studying his face because all that’s there is lust. Attraction. Want.