Never Sweeter(47)

That everything inside her was so mixed up she couldn’t tell an affectionate hand being placed on her shoulder from a kitchen knife in a slasher movie. It made contact and she reacted like someone stabbed her, standing up too fast and knocking things over as she went. One hand already slapping his away so she could get to the wound. She was bleeding, couldn’t he see that she was bleeding?

Judging by his expression: no, he could not.

He looked like a little kid who just put his hand in a fire because the fire seemed nice. He jolted all over, hand snapping back almost as fast as she had stood up. And the confusion on his face…it was so raw and honest. The image she had of himthat sure and confident imagedissolved almost instantly in the face of it. This was the real him, she realized. This baffled, affectionate creature who didn’t understand why his tender gesture was being rebuffed.

But she couldn’t help him.

She didn’t understand, either.

And nor did Lydia.

“You okay, sis?”

Her watchful gaze flicked between the two of themsearching for some sign of his transgression, Letty knew. That one wonderful little word, sis, told her that much. It was a bubble of protectiveness briefly surrounding her, before she answered the only way she could.

“Yeah. I just…thought I saw a spider.”

“You positive about that?”

“I promise,” she said.

Even though she knew what would happen next.

“So, Letty,” he said. “You coming?”





Chapter 15


He suggested they go back to his place after class, which seemed like a good idea. Nothing had happened there, after all. And his bed was definitely bigger than her bed. It meant she could sit by the headboard with her feet pointing down, leaving no space for him to sit beside her. If he wanted to share, he would have to take the opposite end. The only thing that could possibly touch was their toes.

Or so she thought.

Until he went to shut the window behind her.

He put one knee on the mattress to get to itand that was fine. But what seemed less fine was the way he leaned over her, those T-shirt-skimmed abs nearly brushing her face. Thighs almost straddling hers briefly, followed by a great wash of that almondy, her-perfume smell.

And then he decided to sit right next to her.

She had no idea how he did it. He shouldn’t have been able to fit. There was a space the size of a thimble beside her, and she was sure she didn’t move to accommodate him. Yet he wedged his way in here anyway. Suddenly his chest was her pillow and his arm was nearly around her shoulders, like they’d somehow become a cute couple who cuddled in bed while watching movies.

Without anyone actually agreeing to this.

She definitely hadn’t. She wasn’t even sure how she would broach such a topic. “Hey, I know you found me really gross in high school, but could we possibly date now?” And the possibility of him broaching it was just beyond the back of insanity. He would never want to. He found her repulsive.

No, this was all just a misunderstanding, brought on by the movie.

The movie that was nowhere near as sexy as the one he then suggested.

“What do you think about Nine and a Half Weeks?”

I think I would sooner eat a dead rat than watch it while lying in your arms.

“That sounds okay, I guess. Though you know we should really probably focus on more mainstream movies. I mean, Nine and a Half Weeks is a little soft porn, don’t you think?”

“Maybe we should try Y Tu Mamá Tambié”

“No!”

She cut him off so sharply and so loudly that he did that little jolt thing again, like in the cafeteria. But she just couldn’t help it. She had seen that movie. She knew what happened in it. The two main characters masturbated together, in the most graphic way she could ever have imagined.

Prior to her sitting next to a masturbating Tate Sullivan. Watching it would be intolerable, with that lodged between them like a psychic splinter.

“I’m not…really in the mood for subtitles. Nine and a Half Weeks will do.”

“You sure? You sound a little…”

“Not at all. I’m fine,” she said.

And she was. It was easy to be when watching most of the movie with her eyes closed. Whenever something super sexy happened she simply shut them, angling her head so he would never see.

Not that he was paying any attention. Whenever she spied him in the darkened laptop screen, he looked 100 percent focused on the movie. His eyelids were heavy and his lips were parted, but then anyone’s would be watching total hotties writhe around the screen. And if his breathing was a little unsteady, so what? Hers probably would be, if she didn’t keep covering her eyes with one hand.

It was bad enough just hearing Mickey Rourke saying things like give it up.