Page 68 of Wicked Little Darling

Chewed on? For the first time, I noticed the marks on his neck. There were several red spots that looked almost painful, and my face flushed so hot I thought I would pass out.

I brought my hands up to my face and groaned. What waswrongwith me?

“I am so, so sorry, Dakota,” I said through my fingers.

“I’m not,” he said, getting off the bed.

I let my hands fall to my side and stared at him in bewilderment.

He just shrugged. “I’m not sorry, and you don’t have to be either. Honestly, I liked it. But I gotta know…” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step closer to me, his gaze intense and locked on mine. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, but my stupid face was burning and I knew the horrendous blush was giving everything away.

His lips twitched as he took another step. “You said that way too fast. Was it me? Are you embarrassed? You don’t have to be.” He moved closer and closer, and all I could do was stand there and watch him.

Unpredictable to the point that heshouldbe predictable now. Of course Dakota would love getting mauled by a sleeping person. Whywouldn’the?

The dean wanted me to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, but I was coming to understand that there was nothing—nothing at all—that was ordinary about Dakota Voss.

And I liked that.

Ilikedhis unpredictability. I liked that he was constantly surprising me in ways no one ever had. I liked how he was so transparent with what was happening in his head that I never really had to guess. He offered his inner workings to me at every opportunity.

And I liked that.

I wasterrifiedthat I liked that. I couldn’t like that.

But…

Dakota ran his hand through his hair and sighed. His eyes held mine for a long, long time, slowly moving back and forth. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I guessed he found it when he nodded and lowered his gaze. “Look, I’m pretty hungry so I’m gonna go grab some food. I’ll give you some time to yourself.”

As he walked to the door, I willed myself to call out to him, to tell him not to leave, that we weren’t done talking, that Iwas sorry and appalled and feeling way off-kilter because I was a goddamn mess and he just took it all in stride, as if I wasn’t falling apart right in front of him.

The door shut softly behind him, and I stood in the middle of the room for a long time before heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

At least he wasn’t here to see me cry again.

When Dakota returned halfan hour later, I was sitting on my bed, feet planted on the floor, twisting the stem of the flower between my fingers and trying to make sense of everything.

I was utterly failing.

But as soon as Dakota stepped through the door, a tense, anticipatory thrill flooded me. His eyes immediately locked onto mine, lowered to the flower, then raised slowly back to mine again as he started to smile.

“Do you like it?” he asked, shutting the door behind him. He was holding a plastic bag, which he set on his bed to rifle through.

“Why did you give me a flower?” I asked.

“Because it reminded me of you. It’s a tiger lily. Smells like you, too.”

His blunt words drew a hot flush across the entirety of my face. He always just…said exactly what he was thinking.

His straightforwardness was unsettling me in the strangest way.

When he turned around and held out something small wrapped in paper, I grabbed it just so I had something else to focus on.

It was a sandwich. I glanced up at him to find him staring at me, dark eyes devouring my face with an intensity that made my heart pound.

“Stop staring at me,” I mumbled, setting the flower on my pillow and unwrapping the sandwich. I tore the paper into pieces instead of eating it, though.