Page 28 of Crash Course

No. Because now he’s filling my entire field of vision. His hair falls across his face and I’m not sure how I thought he looked like an angel because his expression is way too wicked.

“Did you decide yet?” he asks. “If you want me to withdraw my intentions.”

The hairs on my arms lift. No one should be this magnetic, it’s actually unfair.

“I’m giving it a lot of thought.”

Usually when his mouth curves, it’s quick. Reflexive.

This time, it’s slow. Every second has my stomach flipping over.

“Well, that’s something at least.”

I’m wondering again how talented his mouth is. The tingling between my thighs might be an answer.

A student I don’t recognize runs between us and the fire, bumping into us and breaking the spell.

I’m relieved and disappointed by the interruption.

“Tell me this.” Theo’s words are light, but there’s a seriousness about him that’s new. “If I win, will you be cheering in the front row?”

I nod to the clusters of students around the fire, the gazes that return to him over and over. “You already have a huge fan club.”

“The thing is, New Girl…” He bends toward my ear, my hands grabbing for his biceps to steady myself.

“I’d rather hear you shouting my name.”

9

Shay

Blond hair. Blue eyes. A cocky grin.

Theo Ashford’s hard body presses against me.

His shirt’s unbuttoned as always, no tee underneath. His body is ridged and muscled, and the sight of him has my throat drying.

He takes my face between his hands and I’m already breathing heavily. Those eyes cloud with longing. “I want you so fucking bad, New Girl.”

Before I can respond, his lips brush down my neck.

Pleasure lights me up, an ache that’s sweet and torturous at once.

I push his shirt off his shoulders, revealing hard muscles that bunch when he starts down my body. The heat of his mouth finds my shoulder, my collarbone, starts lower between my breasts.

I arch into him, my eyes closing on a sigh. Theo Ashford is already outdoing every guy I’ve ever been with and we haven’t even hooked up in real life.

A rhythmic shuffling sound cuts into my dream. Clunk. Clunk.

“Shay!”

I blink my eyes open and wipe my mouth. I’m curled up in the cab of my dad’s truck parked in our home garage.

“Shay? You out there?” Dad’s voice calls from outside.

I slam my textbook shut and stow it under the seat. A week into the semester, I have them littered all over the house in whatever hiding places I can find.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, appearing in the doorframe.