Page 71 of Give In

They fuckingkilled.

Filled with a giddy lightness that was far safer than sizzle or crackle, I copied his change. Starting at the top of his abs, I slowly ran my palm down to stop below his belly button—low enough that I grazed the waistband of his basketball short and the rough hair that tickled my palm. I only paused for a moment before returning.

His heavy breathing mixed with the even heavier pounding of his heart as we continued the same pattern. After a few more strokes, his path lengthened again, his hand rounding the curve of my ass.

Keeping with our game, I trailed my hand down and barely passed his waistband before freezing.

What the hell am I doing?

Shame and a surprising amount of guilt replaced the giddy lightness that’d filled me.

Just as I was about to move my hand back up, Brooks’ fingers lightly encircled my wrist. Removing my hand from him altogether, he rolled to face me. “My dick is gonna hate me for this, but you’re drunk. As much as I want this, we can’t.”

He was right.

Even if I was sober, taking things any further was a bad idea. My life was a mess, and that included my emotions when it came to a certain asshole professor. Brooks wasn’t a consolation prize.

He was a great guy…

He just wasn’tmygreat guy.

Knowing that and sleeping with him anyway would make me a selfish bitch. There were enough negative adjectives I called myself. I didn’t want to add to them.

“I think it might be better if I went home,” I whispered to his chest.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.”

“I’ll order an Uber.”

He shook his head as he released his hold on me. “I only had a couple beers before you got here.”

I thought back to the night and realized he was right. He hadn’t had a drink since I’d gotten there. I, however, had drunk enough for the both of us.

He stopped to take care of me.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he continued, “and have one of the guys follow in your car.”

“You don’t—”

He pulled his tee back on and shook his head. “I’m not letting you take an Uber in the middle of the night. I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

Involuntarily, the image of being bent over Professor Caine’s lap filled my head. Phantom pain radiated across my ass at the vivid memory.

One guy doesn’t want me hurt.

One wants to be the one to hurt me.

And I really want him to.

The admittance, even in my head, was enough to shake me. Sober me. It was the closest I’d gotten to peeking into the mental mirror I hadn’t wanted to face.

Ever.

*******

“Have a good night?”

A yelp escaped me as I whipped around.

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