Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Neither of us says anything, and when I look his way, he’s staring down.
“Did I do something wrong?” I bite my lip, ashamed, following his eyes to see the small amount of blood on his otherwise almost stark white shirt.
Crap.
“You’re a virgin,” he swallows, his voice steady and even.
“Not anymore,” I struggle, trying to make light of the situation.
“It’s not funny.” His mood causes water to pool in my eyes. This was fantastic, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. Why is he ruining this?
“You’ve been my first everything,” I admit, the honesty pouring out of me.
“Everything?” His eyes go wide, and a sad laugh escapes me as a single tear spills over, filtering through my lashes.
“Fuck,” his eyes soften. “I’m sorry.”
“You make me feel like a terrible person. I knew what I was doing.”
His thumb wipes away the wetness.
“I just wish I knew,” he confesses.
I don’t say anything, recognizing his look, the one he had when he tried to fight us. I nod slowly, the voices in the hall even louder now.
“So is this it? You’re going to go back to ignoring us?”
He looks me dead in the face, shaking his head.
“I couldn’t if I tried,” he pulls me close as I take a deep breathe.
“I’m sorry about your shirt.”
“Here,” he takes it off, turning it inside out before wiping the come off my stomach. His hard, bare, chest takes me aback, and I raise my hands, wanting to touch him, pausing for permission.
When he doesn’t protest, I lightly trace the contours of his muscles, already squirming again. His cock twitches as he pulls my face towards his, his tongue dipping inside my mouth before he’s all too quickly pulling away.
“Get dressed,” he orders. “The bell’s about to ring.”
He doesn’t touch me at all during lunch. He barely looks my way as I sit in his desk chair, swiveling it, watching as he cleans up the mess of boxes.
He ran out and got pizza for us, and I pick up a few pieces of pasta that fell off my ziti slice, enjoying my last couple of bites.
“Good, huh?” He laughs at me.
“You have to try it sometime,” I groan.
“Maybe I would have if you didn’t just engulf it all,” he jokes. “Thanks for offering, though.”
“You wouldn’t even!” I shout. “You always say how gross you think it is.”
He smiles as he takes a sip of his soda, and I can’t help my scrutiny, always so dumbfounded over how striking and statuesque he is.
I wonder if I’ll ever get over my awe.
“What?” He asks, moving the bottle away from his mouth.
“Nothing,” I shake my head.
“You always look at me that way,” he says, placing the drink on the counter. “And I don’t think I’ll ever figure out why.”
I’m not ready to admit to anything, so I say nothing.
“I wonder sometimes though,” he sighs. “What you see.” I swallow my last bite, trying to control my expression. “If it’s the same thing I see when I look at you,” he smiles to himself, fascinated.
I swallow so hard I can hear my gulp echoing in my ears. He tosses his paper plate in the trash and goes back to breaking down boxes. You can finally see the floor again, and pretty soon, it no longer looks like a tornado ripped though here.
When he’s satisfied with everything being put in its place, he moves on to the island, clearing off its mess, his hands landing on the board game I put there this morning.
“So we’re going to play Scrabble?” He opens the box and takes out the board.
I shake my head, wondering what his deal is, as I get up and grab a stool.
“No cheating now,” he eyes me, full of whit.
“I don’t need to,” I smirk. “In fact, I’ll even let you go first.”
He laughs, and I watch as his chest vibrates while he places his first word on the board.
“You’re upset with me,” I acknowledge as I lay down my first word. His eyebrow shoots up.
“You let me have sex with you,” he sighs, throwing his head back. “I took your virginity.”
“Like I said,” I state calmly. “I knew what I was doing.”
“Are you hurt? Or sore?” His eyes are kind as I roll my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I nod at the board. “What’s your word?”
He turns a leftover so into sorrowful and I shake my head.
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” he laughs, tallying up the absurd amount of points. “But it seems fitting.”
“Would you have done it if you knew?”
Crap, I really need a good word here, he’s killing me already.
“No, maybe, I don’t know,” he sighs, exasperated.
“Well, stop feeling bad. Please.” I’m rearranging the letters in front of me in my head. “Besides, it’s not something I advertise,” I admit. “And I kind of thought you may have already known, based on my inexperience with everything else.”