I remember the soft way he took care of me when I was hurt. “Oh, quit with the tough guy act.” I take his hand. It’s big and rough with calluses and I can’t help but notice the contrast with mine. “Come with me. You need peroxide.”
He drops my hand and disappointment surges through me. “Hang on.” He goes back to where he was sitting and picks up his discarded T-shirt. He throws the shirt on over his head, disheveling his hair so it’s sticking up in all directions.
I stifle a laugh.
“What?”
I shake my head, wiping the smile from my face. How is it possible for his hair to be so messy, yet look so good?
“Want some?” He offers me the bottle.
I take it, and take a deep swig, long past thinking of him as a teacher.
Chapter 24
We take our time walking back to the school, drinking and stumbling and making small talk. She’s funny when she’s been drinking, and just as sassy as ever. This girl is keeping me on my toes. I can’t tell what she thinks of me. Her eyes say one thing, but her mouth says another.
When Taylor falters, stumbling in the grass, I allow myself to reach out and touch her, as I’ve been desperate to do since our kiss. I hold her upright, her back pressing against my chest. “You okay?” I breathe against her hair.
“Sorry,” she says, catching her breath. “My legs aren’t working so well right now.”
“It’s cool.” I release her, and turn her toward me. I fight the urge to pull her closer. “We can hang out here for a little while if you want.” She nods and we sit down in the grass, tilting our heads back to look up at the stars. There are a million of them tonight and the nearly full moon gives us enough light to see by.
When Taylor lies back in the tall grass, she’s partially obscured from my view, which I don’t like, but I lie back next to her. “Would you think less of me if I tell you something right now?” I say, teasing.
“I couldn’t possibly think any less of you then I already do, so go for it.”
I laugh softly even though her assessment of me stings a little. “My lip hurts like a bitch.”
She laughs out loud. “Lemme see.” She lifts up on her elbow and leans over me.
Her face is serious as she looks down at me. She watches my eyes intently, but I focus on her mouth. She brings her hand to my face like she wants to reach out and touch my split lip, but stops herself and drops her hand. I don’t know why she’s so scared to feel anything with me. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that she’s interested, but I can also tell she’ll never let herself act on it. But I guess if I’m admitting the truth, she scares the shit out of me. I find myself hesitating where I’m normally sure and questioning what to when I’m around her.
But she’s still leaning over me, studying me. So I haven’t completely scared her off. Yet. I lift my hand to her face, trailing my fingers along her jaw. She flinches at my touch, but doesn’t back away. Maybe she’s not as shy as I’ve thought. Our eyes stay locked on each other’s as the seconds tick past. Her face hovers just inches above mine. I want to kiss her again. Bad.
A lock of her hair falls over my cheek, but neither of us moves. She smells enticing and I can’t help but lean closer. She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
Unable to stop myself, I move my hand to her full mouth to touch those pretty pink lips I’ve been thinking about since last weekend. I trace a fingertip along her mouth, wanting to do so much more.
She sucks in a breath, and pulls away.
Fuck. Too much.
“Sorry,” I whisper hoarsely.
“We should get back,” she says, her voice just as breathless as mine.
I nod. “Yeah.” I need to get out of here. Now. Before I go all caveman and drag her back to my room to satisfy every primal urge she arouses in me.
I walk her inside, all the way upstairs to the girl’s dorm in silence. She grips the banister, and navigates the stairs carefully. She may have had more to drink than I realized. I hang back behind her on the stairs, my hand at the small of her back, ready to catch her if she stumbles.
When we reach the door to the dorm, she steps inside, then stops, realizing I’m no longer following her. If I go into that dorm, she’d stand no chance. I want to taste her lips, to press her soft body against mine, and knowing that I can’t, I stand stiffly by the door.
Chapter 25
Colt’s stopped on the threshold of my dorm, holding himself back intentionally from crossing through the door. I turn to face him. He takes a deep breath, then stretches up, placing his hands on the top of the door frame.
His shirt inches up to expose a patch of skin along with the waistband of his boxer briefs. It is so not fair that the image will be seared into my memory like it’s Christmas morning and he’s a present to be unwrapped.
I need to play it cool. I desperately need to keep my libido in check. Colt is not good for me. I must remember that.
I allow my eyes to briefly travel down his stretched out frame, until I force them to return to his face. He doesn’t let on if he knows I was ogling him like a piece of meat, but his gaze is fixed on me too. He releases a breath slowly, like he’s frustrated about something.
“So you wanna come in?” That is so the alcohol talking.
He peers around me, looking inside, leaning his body closer to mine, though his hands are still gripping the top of the door frame. It’s clear by the silent, darkened dorm that we’re completely alone. My heart thumps unevenly. Even though we’ve already spent time alone on assignment at the hotel, for some reason, this feels different. Like instead of being thrust together, we’re choosing it.
He drops his hands by his sides, then stuffs them in his pockets like he’s unsure what to do with them. “I better not,” he says after a moment of silence.
“I could find some peroxide for your lip.”
He laughs, a deep throaty sound that I can’t help but notice has a bit of an edge to it. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his forearms flexing as he tenses. “I shouldn’t be in here…underage girls…after dark…none of it’s good for me.”
Despite what my brain is telling me, my body has its own agenda. The way my pulse spikes anytime he’s near and my eyes only see his perfection. It’s sorta infuriating. I vowed I’d never put myself in a position to be used by a guy again, and I intend to keep that promise. But in this moment, instead of modesty, self-preservation or general disgust over his man-whoring, my entire body is humming. Damn it.
I know everything MJ and Logan have said about Colt’s reputation is true. I’d heard of at least two girls who’d celebrated their eighteenth birthdays in his bed. And some of it I’ve now seen with my own eyes. It should gross me out, but I can’t make myself feel the way I should about him.
I’m tempted to blurt out that my birthday is only three months away, but I hold my tongue. Oh God. What’s wrong with me? “I don’t bite,” I say, teasing him right back.
He leans in closer, his voice low. “No?” He looks me over and leans in even closer. “What if I do?”
My stomach drops. His dark eyes on me are too much, and for once I’m at a total and complete loss for words. It’s a strange new sensation to realize that I’m off limits to him, just as much as he is to me, though only a year and a handful of months separate us.
“Thanks for walking me back.” I refuse to play this game his way and throw myself at him like he expects. I turn and head into the darkened dorm, feeling his eyes on my back as I go. There’s no reason why I can’t make him suffer. It’d certainly be a confidence boost to have him salivating over me, only to turn him down. Game on, Mr. Palmer, game on.