Page 31 of Until We Meet Again

With a gentle touch, she caresses her golden hair before resting her head on her hand. Leaning on her elbow, she stares back at me, her eyes filled with tenderness as if she needs me to experience the exact emotions she's just stirred inside me. The animalistic urge I have to take her in front of every single person in this fucking room begins to consume me.

I know I need to remove myself from even breathing the same air as her, and I need her out of my sight before I lose my damn mind. I drag my chair across the wooden floor before storming out of the room, not giving a shit about anything other than escaping her, and even though she's driving me fucking crazy, I can't stop my cock from hardening as every word she wrote penetrates my soul.

I rush into the empty hallway and lean against the window, taking a deep breath and pressing my palms firmly against the glass, doing everything I can to calm my body and mind.

Have you ever been so wildly attracted to someone that you can literally feel yourself going insane? Ever wanted to touch every single part of someone's body slowly, so damn slowly, yet all at once? I want to taste my name on her tongue and breathe it into her lungs until it becomes the only word she has left in her vocabulary.

Fuck.

I run my hands through my hair and try to get my shit together before returning to the classroom, but my mind is racing, and I feel like I've lost all control.

Chapter 14

Tessa

"Does everyone have their poems?"

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

"I'll collect them, and then you can just read Gatsby for the next twenty minutes."

"Oh shit, is he reading them now?" I overhear Ashlee's attempt at a whisper, sensing her panic, which is understandable given that she's written about being trapped in a forest, stripped bare, and taken in the grass. However, rather than voicing my own fear, I remain silent and feel an eruption of nerves in my stomach at the idea of him reading my words right in front of me.

He moves around the room, gathering everyone's work, and when he draws nearer, I hand him my paper. Our eyes meet, and a mix of greens, golds, and browns look down on me as if I were the only person in the room.

Eyes that are the color of spring and the memory of fall.

Once he's collected everyone's work, he strolls to his chair. Looking around the room, I see everyone immersed in their books, reading silently—everyone except me. Instead, I watch him closely, feeling my heart pound inside my chest, silently begging the universe to make it so class ends before he reaches mine.

I stare at him for the next few minutes, watching his body language and paying attention to everything he does. He reads through a few papers, some bringing a smile to his face, others making him laugh out loud, and then he eventually comes across one that causes him to tense up.

It's mine. I know it is.

His eyes eventually lift to mine, and his head subtly shakes. The impact my words have had on him is clear, but I keep staring at him, absorbing everything he's feeling. However, in a matter of seconds, he storms out of the room, leaving me and the rest of the class not knowing where the hell he went.

"Bro, what's his deal?" Jason mutters from behind me before releasing a gasp. "I bet he read Ashlee's work."

A few minutes later, he returns to the room, and I can feel the tension pouring out of him. "Class is over, everyone. See you next week."

"There's still like ten minutes left." Ashlee raises her voice and catches his attention. I watch his eyes snap to hers, cold and full of anger.

"I said it was over, Miss Johnson."

He holds her gaze, eyes narrowing, and she starts collecting her belongings, just like everyone else in the classroom, and I don't blame them—it's the first time we've seen this pissed-off side of him.

While everyone else leaves the room, he remains at his desk, eyes down, focusing on his laptop.

After the final person is gone, I close the door and rest my back against it to prevent anyone else from walking in. I need to understand why he’s so angry. I need to know which part of my poem was so terrible that it triggered such a strong reaction from him.

"Zane."

"Get out, Tessa." He closes his eyes, and it's clear how hard he's trying to hold himself together.He leans back in his chair, running his fingers through his dark hair, trying to ignore the fact that I'm still here.

"You can't be mad at me for what I wrote, Zane. You wanted something raw and true, and I did that."

He takes a deep breath, his frustration becoming even more obvious with each rise and fall of his chest. He kicks his chair out from under himself, instantly sending a surge of adrenaline rushing through my body.

In three powerful strides, he reaches me, asserting his dominance as he stands towering above me. His grip tightens around my throat, possessive and firm. He leans in, his forehead touching mine, finally forging the connection we've both been craving.

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