The Accidental Text - Page 20

“I know,” she murmurs, standing and walking over to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Or give you false hope. But that’s just the thing. I don’t think this hope is false. All the signs—”

“Could be pointing to a rich man who wants to do a poor woman a favor. It could easily just be that.”

“And comforting you outside the café? Holding you?”

I squeeze my hands together. It’s like hope is trying to surge through me, trying to twist its way through and take hold of me, filling my mind with dangerous delusions.

“I felt something,” I whisper. “I felt safe. I felt… home, somehow. But that doesn’t mean he felt the same.”

“He might’ve.”

“Sure, maybe. It’s not impossible. But… Can we just order pizza and start the movie? Thinking about this makes my head spin.”

She looks at me for a moment longer, and for a second I think she’s going to tell me no. But then she smiles. “Yeah, let’s do it. But I’m warning you… no pineapple, okay?”

I giggle. “Okay, deal.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Asher

“I won’t be too late, boy,” I say, kneeling next to Egil’s bed as I smooth my hand over his back. “It’s not a date. We’re just going to go over her essay. Hey, stop looking at me like that.”

He tilts his head, a little grin on his face, as though he sees right through my lies.

I say goodbye one last time and then walk down the hall. It’s been difficult trying not to rush over to her apartment.

Last night the pull was almost gravitational, willing me out of bed, urging me to surge across the city and find my woman. All-day, as I’ve worked on my manuscript – or tried to – I’ve been counting down the seconds until I get to see her again.

She sent over her answers about Declan, so there’s nothing for me to do on that front until I get the information back.

And then?

Maybe I’ll have a talk with the prick myself. Maybe I’ll tell him what will happen if he ever tries to hurt her again.

I calm myself as I approach the apartment… the apartment which must’ve broken some sort of record with how quickly I snapped it off the market. I had a quick look around, and then – when I was certain everything was perfect – signed the lease right there.

I’d do anything so my woman can be safe from that freak.

I slow my breathing and unclench my hands from the steering wheel, reminding myself this is about her essay. But the fact that we’re going to be alone isn’t lost on me.

The fact that there’s going to be a bed in the next room – a king-sized bed with silk sheets – doesn’t escape my notice.

I hunger for her, feeling like a beast battering the walls of my cage as I attempt to get myself under control. But there’s no such thing as control where my woman is concerned… even if I’ve managed to keep the more primal aspects of my hunger at bay, I know it’s only a matter of time before I unleash myself.

Pulling into the underground parking garage, I can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash through me as I reflect on her previous apartment, with the rundown exterior and the graffiti covering the walls of the property opposite.

I step from the car and then stride over to the entrance, waiting a moment before I press the intercom button.

It’s only been a day since I last saw her, but it feels like so much longer, as though I’ve been waiting years to lay eyes on her again… to touch her, to be with her, to claim her.

My hand trembles slightly as I push down on the button.

An observer might think I’m nervous. But it’s not that.

It’s this energy thundering through me, this animalistic urgency telling me to claim her, right this second, now.

“Hello?”

Even the way she says hello sends a rush of need right down to my base, my length hardening at the shyness in her voice, the innocent confusion. I can imagine her moaning in the exact same way, shocked by how much pleasure we’re sharing as I slip my finger inside of her, stroking, bringing her closer and closer to the edge…

“Hello?” she says again.

I silently curse myself. There’s no way I’m going to be able to resist her if I keep drifting off into carnal fantasies like this.

“It’s me,” I say, keeping my voice as casual as I possibly can.

“Awesome. I’ll buzz you up.”

The door opens and I take the stairs. Her apartment is on one of the higher floors and I could ride the elevator up, but I need this time to compose myself, to remind myself over and over that I’m here as a professor, a friend, a Good Samaritan at most.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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