Blind Spot - Katana Collins Page 0,60

moment this time as I brushed my hands through her hair. It was progress. Did she even realize it? That she was letting me touch her hair?

She let me hold her there for a hot second before she pushed away, shoving her arms into the tank top and hopping back into her yoga pants.

“I, um, I should really go,” she muttered, head down, avoiding eye contact.

“Shelby, wait—”

She didn’t slow down, and instead rushed around my living room, gathering her things. This was her MO, how she handled stress—she fled from it.

“Shelby,” I said again, this time loud enough to stop her. Our eyes collided, and a spray of pink flushed across her cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about this tonight,” I managed to say. I got up and moved to her slowly, slipping my palm to her hip. “It’s even okay if you don’t want to talk about it tomorrow or the next day.” Cupping my other hand around her jaw, I dipped my forehead to hers, and our noses brushed.

She swallowed hard. “This whole thing is humiliating,” she whispered.

Humiliating. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Tell her it was okay? Shit, I didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe she wasn’t okay. Was it a health thing? Just the thought of that caused my stomach to hollow out. “You never have to feel embarrassed around me. Ever. I mean it.”

She pushed onto her toes, pressing her mouth gently to mine, her hands lingering at my jaw.

“Please tell me that’s not a good-bye kiss,” I said.

That earned me a small smile. “It’s not a good-bye kiss,” she said.

“Good. Cause I want to see you. Like, a lot more.”

That got me an even bigger smile. “Still? Even after tonight?”

God, what assholes had this girl been dating? Who the hell would break up with someone over this? But again, I couldn’t say that to her. I couldn’t downplay what happened and tell her it was no big deal.

It clearly was a big deal to her, even if it certainly wasn’t a deal breaker for me. Shit. This was hard. I felt like I was swimming through toxic waste with nowhere to go for safety. So instead, I just pulled her into my arms and held her in that hug an extra moment. “Yeah, I still want to see you. Even after tonight.” I brushed my lips across her forehead, lingering there a second longer. “Buddy and I will bring you croissants in the morning.”

Looking to the floor, she swept her knuckle under her eye, and I could have sworn that a tear stained her cheek.

“I’d like that,” she said.

As she got on the elevator, I felt a momentary jolt of unease. Before the elevator doors closed, she came running back out throwing her arms around my neck and kissed me once more good night. Hard. Her lips and tongue working mine in such a needy, intense way that she left me literally panting when she broke the kiss and ran back onto the elevator with a little wave.

“Night, Tate.”

“Night, Betty.” But the doors had already closed before I said it.

…

Long after Shelby left, I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling. I was used to sleepless nights. Had more than my fair share, actually.

I missed Shelby.

I wanted her here beside me. I wanted to smell the coconut and vanilla in her hair, and watermelon Chap Stick on her lips all night in my dreams.

Questions swarmed in my head, and I hated that she didn’t trust me enough to open up. What did most guys say to that kind of information? She must have told other boyfriends, right?

I flipped the sheets off of me, and a wave of cool air brushed over my bare chest. My dick was a fucking steel pipe, and my gym shorts tented as proof of how hot this damn girl made me. I was so turned on that it went beyond frustrating and dived right into the deep end of painful.

I slipped a hand beneath the band of my shorts, fisting my cock. Electricity shot through my veins. Masturbation used to be enough. It used to get me through each sleepless night. But it was as though Shelby flipped a switch in me. What had always sufficed now barely got my engine revved.

An image of Shelby appeared, her golden eyes simmering as she straddled me, lifting up and down against my dick. I groaned, stroking myself, and damn it felt good, fanning