Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
ALEXANDREA
Birds. Is that a seagull? My eyes sluggishly blink open as it dawns on me I’m not in my room back in Ohio, but staring out at the ocean.
“Holy fuck.” I bolt up, looking around the spacious bedroom that has nothing but large windows as a wall on my right side. The smell of salt and seaweed slowly drifts through one that’s slightly open.
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth as last night comes flooding back into my slightly hungover brain. The stupid party, Danny Boy’s punch… sex with Dean Powers, over and over. I kick off the covers to look down at myself. I look fine. Turning, I reach over to his side of the bed. It’s cold.
“Dean…” I clear my voice hating how raspy it always sounds in the morning, but today… “Dean Powers?” I call out. God, Alex, you sound like an idiot. Bringing the white fluffy comforter to my chin, I almost scream at the large bloodstain on it.
“No.” I leap up, my legs instantly shaking. “What the fuck?” I twirl around, looking for, well, I don’t know what I’m really looking for, but my mind is racing.
“Breathe, Alex, and think.” I make myself take a breath, and another, as I try formulating a plan. It’s a simple one.
Run.
Run like the fucking wind. Drop the class, and if you see him in passing, pretend you don’t. Or dye your hair, get a facelift, anything but stay here only to be thrown out in the morning light.
Jesus, that’s why he’s gone. He’s letting me have the massive walk of shame, alone. Which then brings me to my other problem: where are my clothes?
“Alexandrea?” Brett’s voice makes me freeze.
“Shit,” I hiss. The sound of a door closing makes me jump and dart like the wind into what I’m hoping is his bathroom. It might be his closet, but that could work to my advantage. I can hide behind his clothes.
Thank God, it’s his bathroom. I have to pull myself together. Grabbing a towel off his dark wooden shelf, I wrap it around me and look at the large glass container next to it holding a bunch of bar soaps. Another one holds seashells, and is that a cactus?
“Alex?” The knock on the door cuts into my brain enough so that I stop admiring his meticulously clean bathroom, and face the fact that I have to speak. Either that or hide in the shower. What is wrong with me?
“Just a minute,” I croak out, looking myself over in the mirror, then down at the sink, where I notice a brand new toothbrush. I glance at the door, then at the toothbrush. Maybe he didn’t want me to leave? Or maybe he simply wants me to have clean teeth?
“Stop it,” I whisper, ripping open the back part to get the toothbrush out.
“You want coffee, baby?” And I freeze.
Baby. He just said baby. My stomach flips, and for a split second, I’m worried I might faint.
I clear my voice. “Um, yes, please,” I call out, turning on the water so I can frantically brush my teeth. When I glance back up at my appearance, I literally do a double take. Because my cheeks are flushed, my lips are red and puffy, and my chin is slightly pink from Brett’s kisses.
I lean down and spit, then rinse. My hair is wild since we took two showers last night and this morning, and I guess I slept on it wet. I look around for a brush.
“Whatever.” I try to run a hand through the curls, almost screaming when Brett taps on the door again.
“Stop hiding, Alex.”
Dammit, how does he know? I straighten my shoulders and try to look casual. Clutching his blue towel, I swing the door open.
Blue eyes, like the ocean, stare at me as he blocks the exit, leaning against the doorframe and holding a white mug with the purple and red crest of CAU on it.
“You okay?” He grins.
“Yes. Fine, why wouldn’t I be?” I bite my lower lip. Barefoot and dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt, he’s so incredibly hot, it’s not fair.
Bare feet. I almost groan because something is really sexy about barefoot guys.
“Black okay?”
“What?” My eyes dart up to his as he pushes off the frame and hands me the mug.
“The coffee?”
As if on autopilot, my hands automatically take it. Closing my eyes, I shake my head.
“Yes, I like it black… I’m sorry, I’m just… I didn’t know where my clothes were, and you were gone, so I thought I should leave, then—”
“You decided to hide?” He laughs, leaning over to give me a slow kiss, and my heart races. My brain screams danger because I need to remember he’s my professor, not someone I can fall in love with.
“How’s my peach pie feeling this morning?” He keeps smiling, and all thoughts of him being my dean fly out the window as I lean into him, waiting for him to kiss me again.