Page 60 of Until August

“Like I said, it was a long time ago,” August said, brushing it away like it wasn’t even worthy of discussion. “And in case you were wondering, I’m not into trauma porn.”

It was an abrupt subject change, and it took me a moment to understand his meaning. But then it hit me, and my cheeks flushed. I turned, giving him my back, and replaced the book on its shelf before facing him again. “I wasn’t.”

“Good. And as for wanting to kiss you….” He advanced into the room, and with each measured footstep, the beating of my heart amplified. It was so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if he heard it. “I want to do a hell of a lot more than just kiss you.”

“Oh?” I croaked, pressing my back against the shelves.

“Mmhmm. But…”

My stomach sank. There was always a but, wasn’t there? I held up my hand to stop him from naming all the reasons why this was a bad idea. “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

He tilted his head and studied my face. “What do you get?”

I swallowed, lowering my eyes. “It’s complicated. We’re complicated. And I’m sure plenty of women would be more than happy to….” I waved my hand in the air and tried to find the right word for what August could do with these fictional women.

Fuck them. Fall in love. Have beautiful babies together.

The possibilities were endless, and what he did with other women shouldn't matter to me. But just the thought of him with another woman turned my stomach.

“Hook up with you,” I settled on. His mouth curved into a half-smile, and I saw the amusement in his eyes but ignored it and forged on. “So yeah, it would be easier for you to find someone else. I mean, maybe you already have.” I shrugged as if I didn’t care one way or the other. “It’s none of my business.”

His lips twitched. “None of your business, huh? So you don’t care how many women I’ve been hooking up with. Good to know.”

He made it sound like it was not just one but multiple women. Not that I could blame him. Or them. August was gorgeous. And it was never so apparent as at this very moment when he stood in front of me, an arms-length away, close enough to touch yet so out of reach.

I curled my hands into fists and dug my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. “No. Like I said, we’re…”

“Complicated,” he finished.

“Yeah.”

“We are. And you’re right.” He ran his hand over the scruff on his jaw, his eyes narrowed in thought. “It would be a hell of a lot easier to hook up with someone else. Someone with no strings attached. Which is really all I want,” he added.

My stomach sank. Even though I knew that, hearing the words felt like a sucker punch. My imagination went into overdrive, and I conjured up images of August with other women. In my head, they all looked like Sasha. Petite. Blonde. Ethereal.

If this was an 80s movie, Sasha would be cast as the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

In other words, the opposite of me.

“In fact,” August continued. “If I made a list of pros and cons, there would be more reasons to stay away than to get closer.”

Contrary to his words, he took another step closer. The air was charged, buzzing with electricity, and the tension was so palpable I could almost taste it on my tongue.

“But the funny thing about me….” Another step and my breath hitched. “Easy has never been my style.”

With the next step, he was standing so close that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. When I breathed in his scent, it made me dizzy.

Our gazes locked and held. “What is your style?” My voice was no louder than a whisper.

“Apparently…” I was barely breathing while I waited for his response. “It’s you.”

He pinned me against the wall of books so his body was flush against mine, and I could feel his whole length. His hard chest pressed against my breasts. His erection pressed against my stomach.

“And it fucking pisses me off,” he growled.

“Why?” I rolled my hips just enough to taunt him and saw his eyes darken, but his jaw clenched like he was still trying to hold back.

“Because I don’twantto want you,” he gritted.