Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
She nods, rises, grabs my plate and soup bowl, and takes them to the counter.
I follow her, stand behind her, only inches separating us.
My dick is hard and pulsating inside my jeans.
“Angie,” I say, my voice gruff.
She turns with a light gasp, faces me.
“Yes?” she says, her voice cracking.
I don’t reply.
I simply crush my mouth to hers.
Chapter Seventeen
Angie
His mouth is on mine before I can react. His kiss is intense, desperate, and starving. It’s a hunger I feel myself, throbbing in every cell of my body. Yet it scares me. Not in a creepy, aggressive way, but in an overwhelming passion that threatens to consume me.
I gasp into his mouth. My knees weaken, but he steadies me with his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
He tastes like wine and sadness and a hidden fire that he’s only just letting out. It’s intoxicating. And terrifying.
I clutch on to his shirt, the fabric crumpling beneath my grip. A strange fluttering blooms in my stomach, fueled by his sudden intensity and the taste of his lips against mine.
I recognize his kiss, but this time it’s different.
It’s not only sadness I sense but anger.
Rage even.
But beneath all of that, I sense something tender. Something faint and almost fragile.
Longing. Need. Hope.
He deepens the kiss, and I throw inhibition to the wind. It’s not as if Ralph can see us now. My heart beats wildly as I kiss him back. His tongue is both harsh and smooth. He tastes of tomatoes and wine, of lust and savagery. Of…Jason.
He presses our bodies together. A low groan escapes him, vibrating through me and making me quake.
But then he breaks the kiss, his breath ragged. He pulls away slightly. His green gaze is intense, almost pained. Emotions flicker across his face, all unreadable.
He swallows hard, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Then without a word, he turns away abruptly and strides toward the door.
Without thinking, I follow him. Grab his arm. Jerk him back toward me. “Don’t go, Jason. Please.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says.
I widen my eyes. “I’m not asking for anything. You can’t leave.” I run my fingers up and down his arm. “Something’s bothering you. Let me help.”
“Help?” He laughs. “You psychiatrists are all the same.”
I tilt my head. “I’m a first-year medical student, Jason. I’m far from a psychiatrist. I just want to help you.”
His green eyes darken. “There’s only one thing you can do to help me right now, Angie, and it’s not talking.”
I bite my lower lip, swallowing. “Then let me. I want to help you in any way I can.”
His lips are on mine once more, his tongue devouring me, until he breaks the kiss again with a smack. “Be sure,” he says, his voice rough. “Be fucking sure, because once we start this, we’re not stopping.”
“I—”
“I don’t care that you’re my student. I don’t care that I’m your teacher. I don’t care about any of it. So be fucking sure.”
I’m not sure. Not even slightly.
Except that I am.
I want this.
I want him.
And damn the consequences.
“Kiss me,” I say. “Kiss me, Jason, and let me show you how sure I am.”
His eyes flicker with something like relief before he pulls me against him, his hands rugged and rough. His lips collide with mine, a storm of passion and unspoken promises. He touches my cheeks, my shoulders, my arms. My heart drums out erratic beats that thump all the way through me.
He pulls slightly away and stares at me with those intense eyes clouded with desire yet still carrying a hint of vulnerability.
And I see him.
I see Jason.
He’s strong yet broken. Guarded yet yearning for something more.
Does he see me?
Does he see that I’m not untried but still pretty innocent? That I’m imperfect too?
“Are you scared?” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
“A little,” I say in truth. “But not enough to stop.”
A ghost of a smile flits across his face before being replaced by a look of raw desire. “Then don’t.”
In the dim lighting of the kitchen, I see him again. All of him. The beauty and the pain, the strength and the vulnerability. His eyes speak volumes—stories of hurt, betrayal, solitude, yearning—and it draws me in like a moth to flame.
I want to help him. Give him what he needs in this moment. And if it’s not talking? I’m good with that.
He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. His lips descend onto mine once again. The kiss is demanding and intense—a kiss that stirs up feelings inside me that I never knew existed.
He moves from my mouth to my ear. “I need you,” he whispers.
And I realize with a jolt of surprise—and maybe a bit of fear—that I need him too.
He pulls back, his gaze locked with mine, those piercing eyes looking for some sign of resistance, some hint that I want him to stop. But there’s none. Because right now, in this moment, all I want is him.