One in a million.
Of course, he means I’m the world’s biggest dork, a one in a million loser.
And yet there’s a silly part of my soul that yearns for him to mean something else, for this alpha writer to see me as a one in a million partner.
I imagine him tearing off my clothes with primal urgency, tossing them to the floor, and then tossing me onto the bed just as roughly. In my mind, he collapses atop me in a rush of domination, pushing my legs apart and then driving deep inside of me, searing, a hot bolt of passion, striking, over and over as I gasp and beg for more.
And I know exactly how to please him, how to arch my hips, how to drive him to simmering release at the same time.
My sex gets hot and clammy and starts to tingle.
I swallow, forcing – trying to force – these unhelpful thoughts away.
“This it?” Tanner asks.
I turn, realizing we’ve stopped as my gaze moves over my apartment building. Sitting here with Tanner, it’s like I’m seeing it through his eyes. He must be used to penthouses and five star hotels, and I just know that he’s cringing inside at the sight of my graffiti covered building, the brickwork faded, the front door propped open with a brick because the wind keeps blowing it almost off its hinges.
“Yep,” I murmur. “Thanks for the ride.”
Gizmo makes a purring noise and climbs across the handbrake into Tanner’s lap, leaping up to put his forepaws on his belly and try to scramble closer to his face.
“Gizmo …”
“No, it’s okay,” Tanner says.
He reaches down and picks the little bundle up, letting Gizmo clamber onto his face and start licking his cheek. Warmth blossoms inside of me, and a crazy image of Tanner cradling a child – my child – stabs unfairly into my mind.
“You just want to say goodbye, too, don’t you?” Tanner says.
“He really likes you,” I murmur, watching as Tanner places Gizmo in his lap and strokes him idly. “He’s normally a little shy.”
“How old is he?”
“Just a year and a half,” I say. “I got him a few months ago from a rescue shelter. Can you believe someone actually left him in a dumpster? I mean, literally … they left him in a dumpster. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rant.”
“Tess, if you tell me you’re sorry one more time …”
He trails off, intense eyes roaming over me.
Outside pedestrians walk back and forth, most of them with their heads down, blocking out this neighborhood so they can pass through to somewhere less grimy. Others conduct drug deals out in the open, barely even trying to hide it. Music blares from my apartment building and yet, sitting here with Tanner, it’s like this car has become our own private universe.
“What?” I whisper, staring back at him.
“It’s just that you don’t need to tell me you’re sorry and definitely not for expressing yourself.”
“Right, you’re my creative writing teacher,” I murmur. “I guess expressing myself is sort of the point.”
His face tightens and I know I’ve said something else to bother him, but delving into my mind I emerge without an answer.
He is my writing teacher.
Anger flares inside of me.
What right does he have to grimace at me like that when all I’m doing is stating a freaking fact?
“I’m sorry that I watched you doing push-ups, okay?” I snap.
“What?”
“No,” I go on, voice rising despite myself. Another voice whispers in my mind, Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself. Temper-temper. I forge on. “I get it, Mr. Telford—”
“Call me Tanner—”
“I get it, Mr. Telford, I shouldn’t have watched you. But I was looking for class and, well, it’s a strange sight to see, somebody, doing push-ups in a lecture hall. I was curious. But I don’t see how I deserve to be …”
I trail off, panting, my words running out of steam.
“Deserve to be what?” he snarls.
Gizmo tilts his head at me, waiting for an answer just as much as Tanner is. Tanner’s face is even tighter now.
His jaw is clenched and his eyes are moving up and down my body, as though evaluating just how sickening he finds me. I feel my breasts bulging out of my bra, my belly bulging in my shirt, and everything seeming too big, too not what Tanner wants.
If I thought I’d come to terms with being the unwanted, not traditionally attractive girl, being scorched by Tanner’s dismissive gaze tells me just how wrong I am.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Listen, thanks for the ride. Come on, Giz.”
I reach across and scoop Gizmo into my arms, cradling him to my chest like a shield. He whines contentedly and starts curling up, as though getting ready for a nap.
“Wait,” Tanner growls, his tone the kind which isn’t to be ignored.
Or what?