Page 11 of Almost Ravaged

“Hey. No. I’m not saying this can’t happen. Itishappening.” His tone is deep, serious. “We just have to be careful. Be patient with me. Once you’re moved into the dorms and Atty and I are up north, it’ll be different.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and let his words sink in. It’ll be different. In a matter of months, our realities will change in almost every way.

He grips my chin and uses his thumb to ease my mouth open, his hooded eyes locked on me.

My brain short-circuits, and I forget how to breathe. I’m suspended. Paralyzed by the intensity radiating from him.

I lick my lips, tracing the memory of our almost-kiss.

His eyes track the movement, hungry and possessive.

As if I’ve been dropped several stories, my insides flip.

But this is so much more than falling.

There’s a weight to it. A heft. It’s longing doused in need. It’s desire drenched in delayed gratification.

He wants me to be patient.

Yet I don’t know how I’ll survive the rest of this day, let alone the next few months, tightly wound like this, desperate to feel his hands on my body again.

“I’m going to spend the rest of the summer regretting not kissing you,” he murmurs.

The tension is unbearable, yet a hint of relief threads through me. There’s solace in knowing that the ache inside me also resides within him.

He slips his hand to the back of my neck in the most intimate, possessive hold and inches closer, the movement indiscernible to anyone but me.

Instinctively, I push up on my toes.

And then…

Nothing.

We hold back, silently recognizing the impasse we’ve reached.

We can’t. We’re in public. Atty’s already across the street, probably wondering what’s taking us so long.

Even so, the pull is all-consuming and overwhelming.

If the tension coiled between us is this potent already, how the hell are we going to resist while we live under the same roof?

Worry sweeps over me, and I sink, my feet flat on the concrete again.

“Ty…”

He huffs an aggravated sound. It’s followed by the saddest smile across his usual stoic face. “I know. I fucking know.”

He squeezes my neck, then lifts my hand to his lips. With a quick kiss on my knuckles, he releases me, moving out of the way so I can close the car door.

“Patience, mon ange.”

Patience. I can do this. Just a few more months. Then it’ll all be different.

Chapter five

Sawyer

Tytus holds the door to the ice cream shop open, and as I step inside, I’m engulfed in its familiar scent. It smells so strongly of warm, malty waffle cones that I can practically taste the sweetness when I inhale.