Her petite body is tense, electrified with rage. My attention is drawn to the hint of her pert nipples. Her shoulders are pulled back and her breasts strain against her cotton T-shirt with each heaving breath. Her face is flushed and her pouty lips are pursed. There’s fire dancing in those chocolate eyes. Damn. Elizabeth Wilde is sexy as hell when she’s pissed off.
I have a feeling this is a pattern, running away when she gets scared. Not this time. I cross the room to her slowly and confidently.
“There’s no need to be so dramatic,” I tell her as I pull the door out of her hand and close it again.
She crosses her arms and huffs at me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize where we were starting from,” I placate her, my voice soft.
“Now you know.”
I didn’t know so much sass could come in such a small package. She’s flipped a one-eighty from the apprehensive creature perched on the edge of the couch just a minute ago. She may not be comfortable with being sexy, but she sure knows how to be pissed.
“Now I know.” I encroach on her personal space, curious to see if she’ll switch back to the scared kitten from before if I turn up the heat. “I feel bad. If I’d realized that was your first kiss, I would’ve made it a better one. Can I get a do-over?”
I don’t wait for a response before I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her body against me. I glide my other hand behind her neck and snake my fingers into her hair. Her body goes rigid against mine, but I don’t let her pull away.
Ms. Feisty is reverting back to Dr. Timid as she deflates in my arms, the anger seeping out of her like a balloon.
I brush my lips against hers, teasing the sensitive skin. I wait for a minute, giving her the chance to tell me to stop. She doesn’t.
“You’re holding your breath,” I murmur against her lips. A deep, ragged moan is her only response. Having this effect on her is intoxicating. I press my lips against hers, tracing with my tongue and sucking her bottom lip into my mouth.
She doesn’t kiss me back. She doesn’t do anything.
Panic radiates off her. I pull back and take her in. She’s terrified. Her eyes are clenched shut and every muscle in her body’s got to be constricted, like this is electroshock therapy. It’s not sexy. Not the same ballpark as sexy.
“Relax,” I tell her. “Get out of your head.”
“I can’t!” she snaps back at me. She’s irritated but doesn’t pull away.
“Open your eyes,” I beckon, taking a step back and interlacing her fingers with mine at her side. Her face is a picture of angst and frustration, lips pouting, forehead furrowed, cheeks aflame.
What am I going to do with this girl? I need to get her to relax and calm down. It’s just a kiss, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re psyching yourself out. Shake it out, okay? Let go of all that tension.” I do a full-body shimmy, blowing out a deep breath as I do, showing her what I want her to do. She stares at me as if I’m insane. I do it again, shimmy and exhale, before motioning to her. She half-heartedly mimics me, giving me a sigh and a shrug.
“Again. Like you mean it this time,” I demand.
“This is stupid.”
“Yep. It’s stupid. And awkward. And embarrassing. That’s the point. Loosen up. This isn’t serious. Believe it or not, kissing is supposed to be fun.”
She rolls her eyes so hard she could star in The Exorcist.
“I want you to be my little loosey-goosey,” I taunt her. She lets out an annoyed groan but gives it another try, shimmying and sighing at me.
“Say it. Loosey-goosey.” I do another shimmy.
“Loosey-goosey,” she mumbles.
“Shout it out. LOOSEY-GOOSEY!” I want her to feel a bit ridiculous. I want her to know it’s okay to laugh at herself. I’m not going anywhere.
“Loosey-goosey…” she says in a mocking tone.
“Louder. LOOOOOSEY-GOOOOSEY!” I continue. We’re both doing near constant full-body tremors at this point. I’m sure I look like I’m having a seizure, but I couldn’t care less.
“LOOSEY-GOOSEY!” she shouts at me.
“Again! LOOOOOOSEY-GOOOOSEY!” I bellow. There’s a tinge of a smile on her lips and I know I’ve almost got her.
“LOOOOOOOSEY-GOOOOOOOOSEY!” she shouts at the top of her lungs with a full-body shake before she busts out laughing. It’s a light and joyful sound. Her laugh is contagious. I throw my head back and laugh with her. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this hard. It feels good. Really good.
“Listen, Goose,” I say as I get control of myself again. “Kissing is easy. It’s just a little give and take. Relax your jaw, soften your mouth, tilt your head and follow my lead. Okay?” I put her hands on my pecs.
“Sure thing, Maverick,” she chides with a playful smile.
I tilt my head and cock an eyebrow at her.
“You know…from the movie…Top Gun?” she mutters.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” I give her a playful smirk in approval of the nickname.
I step into her, pressing my chest against hers. I slip my hands into her hair and stroke her neck. Her body is stiff, muscles coiled, as I kiss her again. At first, she only responds by mimicking my movements robotically. She’s holding back, studying me. I decide to push her further.
“Open your lips,” I whisper and she does without question. She’s an obedient student. I tilt her head and slide my tongue into her mouth. It’s soft and warm.
She tastes delicious.
I kiss her long and hard, caressing her tongue with mine. The longer we go, the more confident she becomes, swirling her tongue against mine. She sinks into the kiss, finally getting lost in the sensation of my lips against hers. I have to say, for a first-timer, she’s damn good. When I’m satisfied she’s had an adequate first kiss, I pull away. She doesn’t resist.
“Not bad for a first kiss?” I ask with a smile. She rolls her eyes in response. I take her hand and pull her toward the couch. “Come on, let’s watch this movie.”
I’m not much for cuddling, a little too intimate for my taste. But it might be necessary for this job. I’m sure as shit not going to let her run away to the nether reaches of the couch again. She needs to get used to having her body pressed against mine. I pull her down into my lap and hold her there.
“Cozy?”
“Not really,” she answers. I don’t put much stock in her words. Actions speak louder. People show their true selves eventually. Instead of pulling away she shuffles her body around in my lap before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over us.
“Good.” I reach forward, grab the remote and press Play.
Chapter Four
Elizabeth
The rhythm of Austin’s steady heartbeat is relaxing, like listening to ceaseless waves gently crashing ashore. Bum-bump. Bum-bump. Bum-bump. There is comfort in the consistency. I don’t know if I’ve ever been cozier than I am tucked into his hard chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath. I want to lose myself, to live here in the safety of his arms.
But I can’t.
Sitting in Austin’s lap is as unnerving as it is delightful. Casablanca is one of my favorite movies, but I’m completely incapable of focusing on it. I spend two hours chasing the thoughts running through my head, my brain preoccupied with calculating my next move. I’m so far out of my element I’m not on the periodic table anymore.
Maybe I’m too heavy. His legs must have fallen asleep by now.
Is he comfortable?
Is he just being nice when he really wants to shove me off into the other corner of the couch?
Was I supposed to move on my own?
Should I move now?
He doesn’t seem to want me to move. He keeps me wrapped tightly in his arms. Maybe I’m supposed to make some sort of move. I wouldn’t mind kissing him again.
Or forever.
He knows in excruciating detail how inexperienced I am now. I can’t believe I told him I’ve
never been kissed before. I should’ve taken that secret to my grave. He can’t seriously expect me to put the moves on him. That’s the whole point of this stupid deal. I have no idea how to do this. I can’t relax. As good as it feels to be cradled against his warm body, my muscles are tense and my heart is racing.
I’m terrified.
These two hours are serene torture.
As the credits roll, my body goes stiff. I’m frozen in place, scared of making the wrong move. Austin doesn’t seem to notice as he easily moves me off his lap and stands up.
I mourn the loss of his arms around me.
“What time is it?” he asks as he stretches and yawns. I drag my eyes from the tan abs he exposes to check my watch.
“Quarter past ten.” I stare straight at the TV screen as if I find the movie credits riveting. I’m waiting for him to decide what’s next.
“I’ve got to be in the gym early tomorrow. I should get going,” he says as he holds his hand out to me.
I take it and he pulls me up into him. He tilts his head to the side and my eyes are instantly drawn to his lips. He’s going to kiss me again. The corner of my mouth curves up in a nervous smile. Our chests are touching, an almost imperceptible graze. The connection is electrifying.
He hasn’t let go of my hand.
I’m both petrified and thrilled. He parts his mouth and glides his tongue across his lips. I want to feel those lips on mine again. I wait for it, seconds dragging out into eternity. But he doesn’t move. I drag my eyes up to meet his. They are sparkling with a mischievous challenge as he stares down at me. He’s daring me to do something.
Kiss him!
I want to. More than anything. But I can’t.
Not cute. Not tall. Not confident. Not brave. Not sexy. Not friendly.
Not happy.
“Okay then,” he says finally with a light chuckle. He drops my hand and steps away, leaving a pang of regret deep in my chest. That was a test and I failed. He grabs his bag off the ground and walks toward the door. I follow after him.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Halfway out of the door, he pauses for a minute, those deep blue eyes studying me. His examination makes me feel stark naked.
Nope, fully clothed.
I look down at myself, suddenly scared I have something in my teeth or toilet paper stuck to my shoe, or something else embarrassing and oh-so-Elizabeth. I use one hand to smooth down my wrinkled shirt and the other to pat down the flyaways in my hair. Yep. I’m a mess.
“What?” I ask, exasperated.
He licks his lips before plastering on a familiar smirk.
That smirk. Be still, my heart.
“Of all the libraries, in all the universities, in all the world, I’m glad you walked into mine,” he says before turning and walking away.
A wide, goofy smile spreads across my face. Warmth flushes over my entire body as I watch him strut down the long hallway to the elevators. I want to go after him, jump into his arms. Kiss him. Instead, I shut the door before he catches me ogling him. I manage to close it just before I swoon.
I literally swoon.
A tingle rushes down every one of my limbs before my body goes limp. I fall back against the door with a dramatic sigh. Sliding down to the ground, I let out a delirious madwoman cackle. I press my hands to my cheeks and they’re on fire.
You better watch yourself! This isn’t love. This is business.
My heart sinks at the realization. This feeling isn’t real. This connection can’t be real. I barely know him. And we’re polar opposites. I let myself get caught up in the moment. The feel of his arms. His lips. His words. His everything.
Get a hold of yourself.
I shove down the emotions and push myself off the floor. My knees are weak as I stumble to the kitchen on shaky legs. Relief washes over me as I spy the crusty spaghetti sauce on the pan he used to make us dinner. Sweet distraction. I try to focus on anything besides Austin’s lips as I scrub.
I dissect the night, studying it harder than my neuroanatomy notes, trying to think of all the things I need to remember. How he told me to open my mouth, how he tilted my head to kiss me deeper, how he arranged my body in his lap. I try to make a checklist of what to do next time.
Next time.
He’s going to be back in my house tomorrow and I’m not sure how to handle that.
I didn’t lie to Austin when he asked me why I chose him. I started with research on scoreyourscore.com. What I didn’t tell him is that he personally stars in all my X-rated fantasies. That I think he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
Who wouldn’t?
He’s six feet of chiseled, tan masculinity. He’s the poster boy for sex appeal. When I saw him in only his boxers, I about lost my mind. I knew he was in shape, but I hadn’t expected trim muscles to cover every inch of him.
I’m hoping desire is stronger than panic and the unbelievable attraction I have for him will get me out of my head. After tonight, I’m not so sure. Yeah, I want to jump Austin every second I see him, but he’s so intimidating I can’t seem to put a complete thought together. I can’t deny there’s something about him, something that makes me want to be with him. To keep him. I fall asleep wondering if I can go through with this.
Can I spend the next month getting close to Austin Jacobs?
Will I be able to walk away at the end of it?
I have no doubt he will.
* * * *
Since waking up on this uneventful Wednesday, my hours have been consumed with trying—and categorically failing—not to think about Austin. From the second I opened my eyes, I’ve had a mental clock ticking down in my head until I see him again.
Shower and finish breakfast, eight hours and six minutes until I see Austin.
Grab a coffee on my way to class, six hours and seventeen minutes until I see Austin.
I take my usual seat in the front row of the lecture hall for advanced biochem, five hours and fifty-seven minutes until I see Austin.
Get a hold of yourself!
I may be more distracted than usual, but I diligently take notes once the professor covers the new material. This class is a lot of painful memorization and excruciating hours poring over my notes before every test. I don’t do it because I love the subject. I do it because I know I’m going to need this stuff—and an A in this class—to get into med school. I won’t let daydreams of Austin distract me.
Too much.
I’m scribbling furiously, desperate to catch what Professor Haynes is saying about lipids and membranes, but her voice is washed out by the incessant giggling behind me.
What could possibly be funny about non-polar solvents?
It’s beyond aggravating. I want to be able to learn in peace. I don’t sit with friends, not that I really have any, other than Jackie. And she lives five hundred miles away. If I did have friends, I wouldn’t waste my time by joking around during lectures.
I want to turn around and admonish the peanut gallery. I want to rant about how they’re wasting their time and interfering with my education. I want to tell them to grow up. I want to scream at them to shut up. I don’t. I never will. Instead, I lean in farther and strain to hear Professor Haynes.
I keep my head down, do my work and study my ass off. So far it’s earned me the good grades I’ll need to get into my top choices for med school. If I could get my degree without ever having to come to class, without having to deal with the gigglers, I would.
“And now for the moment you’ve all been anxiously waiting for.” Professor Haynes pauses for effect before pulling a handful of papers out of her bag. “Returning your last exam. Some of you have shown improvement. Others have a lot of work ahead of you if you want to pass the cumulative final. And we had one unprecedented perfect score.”
Oh, God. Please, no.
I know immediately Professor Haynes is going to call my name. When our eyes meet, she’s smiling. I shake my head lightly, my eyes silently pleading with her not to do this. My J
edi mind trick fails.
“Ms. Wilde, well done.” She even gives me a quick applause. No one else claps. Every eye in the lecture hall turns to me. I lean forward in my chair, hang my head low and scribble gibberish in my notebook to avoid drawing any more attention.
Professor Haynes sets my exam down on my desk, a giant red 100% Nice job! clearly visible to the peanut gallery behind me that has now fallen silent.
There’s your silver lining to this shit cloud.
I snatch the exam and shove it haphazardly into my backpack. I’m proud of my grades. I’d happily celebrate them in private. Alone. By myself. I don’t need the sneers. The judgment. The sideways glances and rude comments.
Ass-kisser. Kiss-ass. Kiss-up. Suck-up. Lackey. Flunky. Bootlicker. Goody Two-shoes. Apple-polisher.
I’ve heard them all. My scholastic achievements have never earned me anything other than scorn from my fellow students.
As I’m packing up to make my escape, a guy’s voice calls out from behind me, “Hey, teacher’s pet.” A classic.
I ignore it. A quick getaway is my only desire in life right now.
“Teacher’s pet. Brown-noser.” His words are accompanied by a tapping on the back of my chair this time. I freeze, caught off guard by his proximity.
“Yeah, you.”
I turn slowly in my seat, taking in the sight of this massive guy. The row behind me is slightly elevated and he’s looming over me. He has broad shoulders and lean muscles. If we were standing up, I’m sure he’d tower over me. He leans forward, trying to be intimidating. It’s working.
“You know you and your little perfect score just fucked the rest of us, right?” he taunts.
His arms are crossed and there is a scowl on his otherwise delicate face. I stare at him. I don’t know how to get out of this, to get away from him. I want to run away, but I’m glued to this stupid plastic chair.
My blank stare and lack of response seem to irritate him further. His nostrils flare. “Haynes grades on a curve.”
So, That Got Weird Page 5