The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,72
he makes his approach. Anger courses through my veins and I march back out to the parking lot, heading straight for Jackson’s car. He climbs out of the driver’s side, his expression thunderous as he slams the door as loud as he can.
“You followed us? I knew it!”
“Why did you leave with him? Huh?” He throws his arms out, impressing me momentarily with his wingspan. Oh my God, if I could punch myself in the face right now, I so would. “You knew I was coming.”
“That’s the thing. I had no idea if you would show up or not. You never responded,” I remind him.
“I did respond. I was a little late, but damn it, I showed up. You gotta have more faith in me, El. Like I said, I will always be there for you,” he says.
“Why? Am I your charity case, Jackson? You always want to run to my rescue. My knight in shining armor. Your job isn’t to save me, I hope you know,” I retort, crossing my arms.
“I don’t think of it as a job. I always want to help you. What the hell is wrong with that? You’re making it into an accusation, like it’s a character flaw,” he says.
“It is! You want to be my hero, and I don’t need one. I just want you to be my friend,” I throw at him.
He stops short, his hands on his hips, his gaze dark. “Just my friend?”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip, releasing it quick when his gaze drops to my mouth. “Y-yeah.”
“You don’t sound too sure of that.” He takes a step toward me. Then another one. I’m frozen in place, my breaths coming too fast, my heart in my throat. He stops directly in front of me, so close he’s practically standing on top of my feet, but I keep my head bent. Too scared to look in his eyes. Or stare at his chest. It’s a fabulous chest. One I want to rest my head against so I can listen to his heartbeat. “That’s all you want from me?”
“What do you want from me?” I ask the ground, hating how shaky my voice is.
His fingers slip beneath my chin, tipping my face up. His eyes are blazing with a mixture of emotions, none of them familiar. His expression is pained. He seems tortured. Confused. Mad.
Hungry.
I feel all those same emotions as I wait for him to say something. Anything.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, dipping his head so his mouth hovers just above mine. “I know I want to kiss you so fucking bad right now. I want to sprawl you out on the hood of my car and strip you naked. I want to put my mouth on you and make you come. Make you forget that little asshole, once and for all.”
I’m speechless, my gaze ensnared in his. I can visualize everything he just described perfectly, and I want that.
All of it.
Every last little bit.
“Why do you do this to me?” he asks after I haven’t responded.
“Do what?” I whisper.
“Make me want things I shouldn’t.” He lightly strokes my chin with his fingers. “Tell me to go home.”
“Why?” I frown.
“If you invite me into your room, I might do something we’ll both regret,” he admits.
I cannot begin to imagine he’d do anything I’d ever regret. Not when it involves me with him.
God, he’s confusing.
“Maybe I want it,” I tell him, feeling bold.
He smiles. Kisses me. Far too quickly for my liking. “You don’t,” he whispers against my lips. “I’m in a bad mood. I might take it too far.”
A shiver slips down my spine at the promise in his voice. I have a feeling I’d like it when he takes things too far. “You don’t scare me, Jackson.”
“I should.” He takes a step backward, as if he needs the distance. “You should go to bed, Ellie.”
My heart rattles in my chest, as if it’s trying to escape its cage. I’m so turned on, I can barely think straight. “You’re coming with me?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” The disappointment is real. Slowly, I turn and start walking toward my apartment. I can feel Jackson’s heavy gaze on me the entire way, and it’s only when I’m actually at the door, my key in the deadbolt and turning it, that I glance up to find him still watching me.