Page 21 of Deceit & Destruction

Her petite frame and shapely ass is another.

She smiles at me, and I pat the space on the couch next to me. Did I mention she’s got a great smile too? Or that I like when she sits next to me because it gives me a prime view of the forty-three freckles on her nose.

Yes, I counted.

Yes, I plan on counting the ones on her cheeks too.

She rounds the couch and takes a seat next to me. Alex drains the rest of his beer, setting the empty bottle on the table. He slaps his palms to his thighs and stares at me.

“I take it back.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Two months.”

* * *

“Okay,so for this assignment you need to write a paper on Shakespeare’s life, not his works,” Cassie says as she licks spaghetti sauce from her thumb.

In the two weeks since she’s moved into Alex’s old room her morning sickness has decided to take a hiatus and the girl is making up for the five months she spent throwing up. The fuck of it is, so am I. Some people have a designated driver, Cassie has a designated eating partner and I’m it.

She spins around in my desk chair, her copper her hair flying over her shoulder as she does, and stares at me expectantly.

“What?” I say, grabbing another garlic knot from the pizza box on my bed. “Did you try one of these yet?”

She glances at the garlic knot, then shakes her head.

“No, garlic gives me heart burn.” She brings her eyes back to me. “Did you hear what I said? We need to get started on this paper, it’s due next week and you haven’t even started to research the text.”

A frown ticks the corners of her lips and I pop the rest of the garlic knot into my mouth. Cassie is a no-nonsense kind of tutor. All work and no play.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk toward the desk. Leaning over her, I use my good hand to maneuver the mouse and bring up my Google drive. The scent of her shampoo wafts past my nose and I suppress a growl.

Taking a shower with a cast is an obstacle. I have to cover it with a plastic bag and make sure I don’t get it wet, all while trying to wash myself with one hand—not fun. Usually, I line up all my soap and shit, making sure the tops are open so I can easily pour whatever I need. Last night I forgot to open my shampoo, but Cassie’s was open—so I improvised.

Bad fucking move because after I was done, I hit my bed and my pillow smelled just like her. I couldn’t sleep and soon my head went down a dark path. I imagined her in my bed.

Next to me.

Under me.

On top of me.

All those freckles on display.

I wrapped my hand around my dick and went to town. When I was about to come, I rolled onto my side, buried my face in the pillow that smelled like her, and let loose.

You know what is even more challenging than taking a one-handed shower? Changing the sheets on a bed one-handed. That shit is whack as fuck.

It took five minutes of cursing and me nearly breaking my neck before Cassie walked into my room to see what all the commotion was about. There she stood, in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top—no bra, and instead of staring at her hard nipples, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her stomach. The sick thing is, I got fucking hard again.

If there was ever a sign that told me I needed to get laid, it was that.

I threw her out of my room after that, and she gave me the cold shoulder all day. That’s why this morning, I sat down and forced myself to get a jump start on the paper. If there’s one way to win over Cassie Phillips, it’s being a good student.

The girl gets off on grades and I get off on watching her body adapt to pregnancy.

We’re some fucking pair.

---