Trust in Me

Days had turned into weeks as summer finally slipped into the past and the leaves on all the oaks turned gold and red. The skies had started to grow darker each day a minute earlier, and the clouds that rolled in and the wind that came off the Potomac warned that winter was right around the corner.

I asked Avery out at least twice a week. Each time, she said no and each time, I became even more determined. At some point in the middle of astronomy, as she hastily took notes, and I sketched the Winchesters’ Chevy Impala, I recognized that the whole challenge aspect of this chase was no longer really in the equation.

Glancing over at her as she watched Drage float from one side of the raised platform to the other in his acid-wash jeans, a fond smile split my lips.

The more time I spent around Avery, the more I wanted to be around her, and all we ever did was talk. Hanging out with a chick, just chilling without any physical fun, was uncharted territory for me. While I’d be down for more, lots more, I was content just being with her. And that was so new to me.

Each Sunday I showed up at her apartment with eggs and a different type of baked goods, learning pretty quickly that anything chocolate was a win with her. The second time I went over, she was as happy to see me as she had been the first time, but she quickly dropped the act. And it was an act, because the way her brown eyes warmed when she saw me told me what she wasn’t willing to say vocally.

She was always wary, every single time we were together, but after a little while, she would begin to relax and that was when the real Avery poked her head out.

Professor Drage paused in his lecture and Shortcake stopped, twisting her right hand at the wrist like she was trying to work a kink out of it.

Dropping my pen in my lap, I didn’t think about what I was doing. When it came to Shortcake, I rarely did think. Maybe that was a problem.

Shortcake gasped as I snatched the pen from between her fingers and placed it on her notebook. Her head swung sharply toward me, brows raised. “What are you doing?” she asked in a low voice.

“Nothing,” I murmured, shifting toward her.

Avery’s chest rose as I curved my hands around her right one. “You’re doing something.”

“Shh.” I pressed my thumbs into her hand, gently running them up the side, over her pinky finger and between.

Her eyes widened as they darted from our hands to my face. “What . . . what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” I whispered, moving my thumbs to her ring finger and then the middle, following the path of delicate bones. “Your hand looked like it was cramped. I’m doing my good deed of the day.”

“But—”

“Shush it.” My finger slipped into the fleshy part between her pointer and thumb, and Avery gasped. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

A pink stain bled across her cheeks. “You’re the one touching me.”

“And you’re the one making noise.”

She snapped her mouth shut as I turned her hand over, working her palm. She took a deep breath and then eased back in the seat, her arm and body not so rigid. I watched her from under my lashes and when she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, the action sent a jolt straight through me. My cock jumped, and I suddenly realized what I was doing wasn’t a very good idea. Nothing more awkward than having a hard-on during class.

But her skin warmed under mine, smooth and soft as satin, and David Beckham could kick a soccer ball off the side of my head, and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

My hands wandered up to her wrist, slipping under the sleeve of her light sweater. Her skin was even softer there, the thin blue vein forming a delicate line I wanted to trace with my lips and then my tongue.

God, I wanted to taste her skin. My jeans felt like they had shrunk about three sizes in the crotch. There was no mistaking that I was attracted to her, but sometimes, like right now, it was almost painful. I wondered if I could kiss her—if anyone would notice if I brought her hand to my lips? We were far enough in the back that Drage would have no clue what we were doing, even if I did kiss her . . . or slipped a hand between those pretty thighs.

But something . . . that fucking prickling sensation along the nape of my neck held me back. Having no idea where I developed this level of self-control, I made myself put her hand down and lean back before I did anything stupid. And right now, I was capable of a whole lot of stupid. Several seconds passed as I forced my breathing to slow and before I could look at her.

Shortcake was staring at me, her eyes a wealth of secrets. Our gazes locked and something infinite passed between us, a spark I swore I could almost see with my eyes.

God, I sounded like a vagina.

“Thank you,” she said, a bit breathlessly as she picked up her pen.

Sliding down in my seat, I spread my thighs, hoping to ease the ache, but I imagined I’d be walking over to the Butcher Center with a major hard-on. “Avery?” I whispered.

“Cam?” she responded back, equally low.

“Go out with me.”

Her throat worked on a swallow and her lips twitched into a small smile. “No.”