This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,12

too late to turn in that English paper, even though Saint Clary’s has been really good about allowing me time after Dickie’s death. I might even be able to turn that essay in and still get credit for it.

I flop back on the soft bed, narrowly avoiding the box, and spread my arms out wide. I’d forgotten how wonderful this mattress was. Actually, that’s half a lie. I tried to forget this amazing mattress because I’m pretty sure it only made sleeping on that shitty Saint Clary’s one worse.

A knock sounds on my door. The shades are lowered, so I can’t see who it is. When no one enters right away, I assume it’s Lucas and tell him to come in.

He opens the glass door, giving me a small smile when he sees my position. “God, I fucking missed you.” He closes the door behind him, leaning against it to stare at me. His eyes are hooded, his stare eating me up like I’m a steak on a grill and he’s the world’s hungriest carnivore. “Wild Girl,” he says, that alluring tenor in his voice making me salivate.

He prowls toward me. Not stopping at the edge of the bed, he crawls directly over me, pushing the laptop and cell phone aside. My body reacts to his, suddenly on high alert like it’s waiting to be touched. Like an old friend who’s finally come home, I can’t wait to be surrounded by him.

A nervous jitter skates over my skin at the avalanche of feelings barreling through me. I could suffocate in his embrace and die happy.

“Don’t look so scared. I’m not going to push you into anything, but I’m not letting up either.” He takes my hand and moves it up by my head where he pins it to the bed. “We were so good together.” He does the same with my other hand, my knuckle scraping against the laptop box, until he has me right where he wants me—completely in his control. “I meant what I said before. Be mad at Stone all you want, but don’t take it out on me. I’m not going to let you. I refuse. Do you hear me, Wild Girl?”

I nod, not trusting my voice right now because my body is begging to let out a moan.

I missed being touched.

I missed Lucas.

I fucking missed all of this.

He trails his nose up my neck, leaving a wake of air that licks all the way to my core. “When you let me back in, I’m taking my time with you. I’m going to prove everything I’ve been saying. I’m going to show you what it’s like to live.”

He pulls away to sear a haunting gaze right into my irises. I’m marked forever now. Slowly, he releases his hold on me. He takes his time, unwrapping each individual finger, then lifts himself inch by agonizing inch. Slinking backward, the tortured look he gives me threatens to make me throw caution to the wind. It would be so easy to let him worship me, horde that pleasure for myself and store it away, but I’m not ready yet.

We haven’t discussed that night at all. I know that’s my fault, but I can’t give in to my fantasies before we do.

He stands, shoving his hands into his pockets like he’s trying to trap them away for fear they’ll move on their own. I wish they would. It would only take one touch to find me spread for him, begging him to make good on his promises.

He takes a deep breath. “If you need help with the laptop or the phone, come find me. Or, you know, for anything else.”

He reaches behind him to open the door, then backs out. When he shuts it, he takes all the oxygen in the room with him. I gulp in the air I’ve been missing and throw my head back on the bed. Jesus. That boy is going to kill me. Stone makes me want to murder him, and Lucas makes me want to die slowly of his perfect torture. Wyatt, I haven’t quite figured out yet, other than that mystery surrounding him.

Fuck. Back in the house for less than an hour, and I’m already contemplating murder and death and sexy romps with a cowboy.

For the next couple of hours, I set my new laptop and phone up. Originally, I was going to ask one of the guys to help me with the phone, but I knuckled down and did it myself. The