Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set)

by Edwards, Scarlett

  “Well, maybe now’s a good time to change that,” Summer whispers, and settles back in her seat.

  Never, I think.

  I keep my lips sealed.

  ***

  James caps off lecture by announcing an impromptu exam set for next class. Just like that, totally out of the blue. He said he’s changed the syllabus to make the test account for nearly a third of our grade.

  “Okay, now you have to talk to him,” Summer says on our way out. “An exam worth thirty percent? What the fuck is that? How is that fair? We have other classes, doesn’t he know, and that only gives us two days to prep!”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say. “But I’m not making any promises. Wouldn’t you have a better shot anyway? You’re one of his TAs.”

  “Nah,” she shakes her head. “It’s not as glamorous as I expected. He just treats us as dancing monkeys for his bullshit undergrad course.”

  ***

  Instead of mustering up the courage to speak to James, I bury my head in the material and focus on learning all of it in and out.

  If he’s using the exam as a way to get me to cave and see him, I’ll prove him wrong. In fact, just out of spite, I’ll kill it and get the highest fucking mark in the class.

  I have two days. I ask Summer for a Ritalin or two, pop them, then zone out and study.

  On the day of the test, I am eager and ready to go. I hear complaints all around me as I settle into my seat.

  James comes in and hands out the tests. He gives a stack to each row. We take one copy and pass it on.

  His eyes glaze over me. For the first time since I’ve known him, he’s made me feel invisible.

  He comes to the front of the hall, writes the current time on the board, and announces, “Begin.”

  We get two hours.

  The test consists of a brutal multiple choice section, which I blaze through. Then come three essay questions. We’re supposed to pick one and answer in full.

  All three feel relatively easy to me. I know how to answer each. My choice comes down to which one I think is meant to be hardest… and set about answering it.

  ***

  The timer goes just seconds after I finish my final sentence. I look up. There’s a mad scramble all around me as everyone else tries to wrap up their thoughts.

  I feel an immense sense of satisfaction. I know, deep down, that I aced it.

  “Whew,” Summer complains in the aftermath. “Jesus, how did he expect us to get this thing done in two hours? I barely got halfway through my essay before I looked up and saw we had fifteen minutes left. I had to finish with some shitty conclusion. There’s no way he can make it worth thirty percent. Just no way!”

  I commiserate, but inwardly, I’m smiling. I thought two hours was the perfect amount of time. I’m going to prove to James that even though I lived with him… slept with him… got to know him as the man and not the professor… I respected his intellect enough to pay attention in class.

  Summer looks at her phone and groans. “And now look! We’ve already missed a quarter of our next lecture.” She looks at me with mischief in her eyes. “Come on. Fuck all this shit. We got out of that test alive. We have to celebrate!”

  2.

  “Celebrating” consists of us getting an enormous bottle of red wine and getting drunk in our room.

  Well, Summer gets drunk. I hold back. I already have a queasy stomach and absent appetite. Too much alcohol would just make me puke.

  Still, we have fun. A few drinks in, and Summer lets loose. She turns the music on and starts dancing in the middle of the room, pulling me up to join her.

  It’s good to act normal for a change.

  Halfway through, I remember our neighbor from downstairs. I ask about her.

  Summer says she died.

  Ironic, I think.

  By the time it’s dark outside, I’ve had enough wine to feel tipsy. Summer retreats to her room. A few minutes later she bursts out in a black miniskirt and a white tank so tight it’s like a second skin and announces she’s going to see Alfred. She throws a leather jacket on and leaves me on my own.

  I sink into the couch and close my eyes, floating on the rhythm of the song. It’s Gorgon City’s Lover Like You.

  The lyrics remind me of James:

  Too many times I played the fool

  But I know what I deserve

  Deep down I hurt but played it cool.

  But I know what I deserve

  For once I swear, I know the words

  I know you know, know what I deserve

  A lover like you… A lover like you…

  It’s late, I’m tipsy, I’m alone, and I’m horny.

  I dig out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I land on his name. God, I yearn for him. Just seeing his name makes this undeniable need flare to life between my legs.

  I’ve held out this long… but I can’t anymore. Summer’s gone. The opportunity is ripe for a fucking.

  I hit “call.”

  He picks up immediately. “Celeste.”

  My hearts starts fluttering. I’m breathless. I’ve missed the way he says my name.

  “James,” I manage. I hear his breathing. I sigh and let the beautiful sound envelope me.

  “Are you there?” he asks after a moment. “You called me. Is there something you want?”

  “Yes,” I say. My voice is heavy and I know I’m slurring the words. “You. I want you, James. I’m all alone. All alone and horny. I need you, lover.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Celeste…”

  “Come over,” I purr. “Get in that sexy black Porsche of yours, and come to me. Come fuck me. I crave you, James. I crave your cock. I need you inside me.” I run a hand up my body, squeezing my breasts together as I do. “Come fuck me, baby. I’m all alone on the couch. My legs are wide open… waiting for you.”

  And then, without waiting for his reply, I end the call. Just so he can’t reach me, I turn my phone off and toss it away.

  Will he come or won’t he come? I don’t know.

  The uncertainty excites me.

  I do know I need to get drunker. I look around the room. I can’t find the bottle. What did Summer do with it?

  I wander over to the fridge and throw it open. The strangest sight greets me.

  Every shelf is overflowing with packages of baloney.

  “What the hell?” I wonder. Looks like Summer’s changed her culinary tastes while I was gone!

  But my curiosity disappears when I spot the wine bottle. I smile and pop it open. I pour myself another glass. I sip it slowly, taking stock of my stomach. I don’t feel overly nauseous or queasy or anything. I’m okay.

  Besides. With the tiny amounts I’ve been eating recently, it won’t take much to get my blood alcohol level up.

  So I down one glass. Then two. I start on three.

  I hear a sudden, urgent knocking on the door.

  My heart stops. Is that him? Already?

  I run toward the sound. I miss a step, stumble, catch myself against the wall.

  It’s just the wine, I tell myself. Nothing to get anxious about.

  The knock comes again. Loud, angry, and urgent.

  I push off and go to the door. I look through the peephole.

  It’s James!

  Butterflies explode in my stomach. I didn’t think he’d actually come!

  Shit. Suddenly, I have second thoughts. Was inviting him over such a good idea? Especially considering Summer might be back at any moment!

  Well. Better let him in before Summer sees him standing outside.

  I throw the door open. The sight of him is so… so wonderful, so magnificent, such a relief… that for a moment I feel faint.

  He wasn’t a dream. What we had was real. And he looks so handsome here, that familiar scowl ruining his otherwise perfect face…

  Wait. He’s scowling? Why?

  He takes one look at me. “You’re drunk,” he says, without preamble.

  “Drinking,” I
correct him. I throw my hair over my shoulder. “On my way toward getting drunk.”

  “No.” He pushes through the door and closes it firmly. “You are drunk. I can tell by your speech.”

  “My speech is very, very good, thank you very much, Mr. Handsome.”

  He smirks. “Mr. Handsome? Is that your new nickname for me?”

  My hands fly over my mouth. Did I really just say that out loud?

  “Well,” he says. “It’s infinitely preferable to the alternative, at least.”

  “What alternative would that be?”

  “If you thought me ugly.” Another provocative smile. “Or if you never called.”

  “Trust me, this is a one-time thing, Professor Landon,” I say, swaying into him. My body lands against his. My hand cups his cock. I start to rub him through his trousers.

  “Celeste…”

  “No. No. Sh, sh, sh,” I say, bringing one finger to his lips. “No talky. More fucky.”

  He growls. “I won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk.”

  I give an exasperated grunt. “I’m not drunk! I’m drinking.”

  “On your way to getting there, yeah?” His beautiful mouth, with those full, luscious lips, quirks up. “You’ve already said that.”

  “And it’s true.” My head cocks side-to-side. I feel weary and fuzzy and floaty and damn horny! “Come on, James. Come fuck your lover like she needs to be fucked. Come show me that big dick of yours.”

  That finally pushes him over the edge. His mouth crashes into mine.

  I kiss him hungrily. Sloppily. Greedily. I need to taste every inch of him, need to devour and consume every last bit.

  I think, but I’m not sure, that I pretty much eat his face.

  When I let go, the lust is coursing through me, and my body is on fire. Damn! I didn’t know how much I’ve missed him.

  “This way,” I say, taking his hand and leading him to my room. “Come with me, quick.”

  James follows, although I do sense a certain hesitation on his part. I open the door and slam it shut. I lock it, then I turn to him… and instantly drop to my knees.

  “I’ve been fantasizing about this for a very long time,” I purr, rubbing my hands up and down his strong legs. I nuzzle my face against his crotch. “I’ve dreamt about taking you in my mouth every single night we were apart.” I pull on his pants. They don’t drop as easily as I’d assumed.

  Then I giggle. I forgot the belt!

  I start working on it, fumbling to undo it with clumsy fingers. Man, I am drunk, I think to myself.

  James makes a sound deep in his throat… and then steps away.

  I nearly fall flat on my face.

  “You’ve had way too much to drink,” he says. His words are short and clipped. “We can’t do this now. Not tonight.”

  I glare at him from the floor. “What the hell do you mean? I’m not drunk, dammit! I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  I try to get to my feet. The room spins, and I plop back down on my ass. “I’m not drunk,” I repeat, stubborn, pouty.

  “You are,” James says. He looks around the dark room. “Is that your bed? Let’s get you to it.”

  “I’m not drunk,” I protest again. But I don’t offer much resistance as he picks me up and walks me over. “I’m not…” James lowers me to the soft mattress, “drunk.”

  He smiles sweetly. “You’re adorable,” he says.

  “I don’t want to be adorable. I want to be hot!” I press my boobs together and offer them up to his face. “You like these, don’t you, James? You can have them. You can have all of me…” I fling my arm back and fall to the pillows. “All of me, all of my body, I’m here, baby. I’m waiting for you.”

  “Let’s get you undressed, first, hmm?” he says.

  “Yes!” I gasp. “Good Lord, yes. Finally you’re talking sense.” I reach out and grab him. “But we also need to do the same to you.”

  Grunting, he pushes my hands away from his shirt. “No, no,” he murmurs. “You first.”

  “Fine,” I say. I lie back again and spread my arms. “Strip me, James. Rid me of all these awful, constricting clothes. Come here and devour my body.”

  “Heh,” he says. “Let’s just start with the clothes first. Come on.” He tugs on my jeans. “Lift your hips. Let’s get these off your legs.”

  I comply eagerly. James is gentle as he pulls the denim off.

  I bring one hand down and start rubbing myself. I’m surprised when I feel the fabric beneath my fingers. He’s left my panties on?

  “None of that,” he says, despite sounding husky and aroused.

  “Why?” I ask, slipping one finger through and playing with my clit. “Are you jealous, James?”

  “Very,” he growls.

  “Then come have me, big boy. I want to feel your glorious lips on my pussy. I want your tongue to lick me up and down as you make me come…”

  At least that’s what I mean to say.

  Most of the words come out as indistinct slurs.

  James positions himself closer to me. He lifts my shirt up and over my breasts. I’m not wearing a bra.

  The sudden exposure makes me feel very vulnerable.

  I shiver. It’s also cold.

  James turns away and does something I don’t catch. Then he looks at me again, and I swear to God, his eyes are so bright they shine in the night.

  He lowers himself to my side. “Here,” he whispers. I see some type of fabric. It takes a second for me to recognize it as a feather down.

  He drapes it over me. “Comfortable?” he asks.

  “Mmm,” I answer. I feel the lull of sleep.

  “Roll over,” he says. I do and he eases the blanket out from under me. He tucks me in, then sits by my side and strokes my hair.

  We don’t speak. We don’t need to. His caring expression says everything it needs to.

  Suddenly, I’m assaulted by a horrendous sense of doubt. I called James here to fuck. And he won’t. So why would he stay?

  My eyes get watery. I blink rapidly and turn my head away.

  “Celeste?” his voice is a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I reply. But the words come out as a choked sob.

  “Celeste.” I feel James shift on the bed. “Look at me, baby. Tell me what’s happening.”

  I cringe, unwillingly to show him my weakness.

  “Please,” he adds.

  The sincerity in his plea kills me. I’ve never had a man be sincere with me other than Brad. And when I opened up to him in kind… he cleaved my heart in two.

  “Please,” he whispers.

  I can’t resist. I turn to him, and say, in a very small, very scared voice,

  “I’m afraid I might lose you.”

  He brushes my hair aside. He stares me deep in the eyes. “You don’t have to,” he says, softly. “And as long as I’m around, you never will. I gave you space after you left, Celeste. But it nearly ruined me. Fuck what I said before. I’m never going to stop fighting. I won’t stop chasing you.” He takes my hand and holds it tight. “No matter how you resist, I’ll keep going. You are never going to lose me, precious girl. Not while I’m still standing.”

  I sigh and look up at him. “Really?” I ask.

  “Really, really,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

  “K,” I murmur. I close my eyes. James leans in and kisses my crown.

  I drift away.

  3.

  I wake up to a bright, sunlit room.

  “Ugh,” I groan. I feel groggy, tired, and hungover.

  I sit up in bed and bring a hand to my eyes. I rub away the sleep and start to rise—

  And discover James Landon slumbering on the floor.

  Alarm rips through me.

  Holy shit!

  I try desperately to remember what the fuck happened to bring him here. But everything is a blur. I think I called him. Did I? Would I really invite him over?

  Then I blink again, and in a rush o
f clarity, remember everything:

  James arriving at the door. My desperate attempt to seduce him. His reluctance.

  “Oh God.” I feel gross. Had I really been so desperate last night? Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! And now James is here, sleeping on the floor.

  A queasy feeling overtakes me. It’s almost like morning sickness. I fight down the urge to vomit—

  James opens his eyes. He spots me right away. A lazy smile spreads across his face.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he says.

  —I can’t do it. My stomach lurches. I jump out of bed, run by him, run through the hall, and lock myself in the bathroom.

  I don’t make it all the way to the toilet. I vomit on the floor.

  James starts banging on the door. “Celeste!”

  “Give me a minute!” I call out. I throw up again. The knocking intensifies. “Wait, James!”

  He goes silent. I steady myself against the bowl. I see the mess I made on the floor. Oh God, oh God, oh God…

  The convulsions ease up. I do a slow count to thirty. No more nausea comes.

  Carefully, I stand up. I edge around the puddle of throw up and lean against the sink. I rinse my mouth, wash my face, then consider my reflection in the mirror.

  Is this just the chemo? I wonder. Or is it something worse?

  God, I hope not. I part my hair down the middle. It’s getting thinner. I can see my scalp in places.

  I sigh. My cheeks look hollow and drawn. There are dark circles under my eyes. My head doesn’t feel quite right.

  But I can’t do anything about it. Even worrying over it is counter-productive.

  Right now, I have to deal with the elephant in the room:

  James.

  I walk out and see him leaning against the hallway wall. He looks cross.

  “You locked me out—”

  “Don’t you dare start,” I warn, shoving a finger in his face.

  His expression darkens.

  “You need to get out, James. Summer’s going to come home and see you.”

  “Oh, we’ve already said hi.” He flashes a vicious smile.