Who Falls Hardest (Clearwater University)

I let out a low noise as I head into the kitchen, running a hand through my hair before scrubbing my palm down my face.

Fuck, I need coffee.

After the shitty night of sleep I had, I feel like the damn walking dead, and that won’t cut it. Emma obviously isn’t safe from Leslie like we thought she was—none of us are—and I want to get moving on figuring that shit out. From the way things ended at the police station last night, it seems to me the cops will probably be pretty fucking useless.

Local police aren’t really equipped to deal with a hacker working at the level Leslie is. My guess is she could run circles around them all day, which means we can’t count on them to sort this mess out.

We need to do it ourselves.

And if that’s what it takes to keep Emma safe from this crazy bitch, I’ll gladly take things into my own hands, starting with figuring out how the fuck Leslie managed to hack all of us from a facility where she has either limited or no access to computers.

My mind keeps tossing that puzzle around as I fill the coffee pot and pour some grounds into the filter. I’m up earlier than usual since I got sick of staring at the damn ceiling trying to fall back asleep. Trent, Reese, and I all have class today, but none of us have early classes on our schedule, so I don’t expect to see them up for a while.

But as the coffee starts brewing, I hear a soft noise behind me. I turn around to find Emma slowly backing out of the kitchen, as if she’s trying to escape without getting caught.

Oh, hell no.

I have a feeling she’s a little freaked out after last night, but there’s no fucking way I’m letting her pull back now.

Things have changed between us—after that day we fucked in the kitchen, I could feel that something had shifted. I’d told her I wouldn’t fuck her until I was sure she believed that I wanted to make things better, to make amends for what I did in high school. And that day, I saw it in her eyes. She did believe me.

And I’m not about to let all of that go.

Abandoning the coffee, I cross the kitchen in a few strides, catching her wrist before she can flee the room. I tug her back toward me, and although something like panic flares in her eyes, she melts against me when I wrap my arms around her.

Jesus. She’s so fucking perfect. She fits into my embrace like she was born to be here, and her chocolate brown eyes are wide as she looks up to meet my gaze.

“Where are you sneaking off too?” I ask. My tone is teasing, but there’s a bit of a growl in my words too, and I feel the shiver that goes through her.

My cock twitches, stiffening a little, and I’m sure she can feel that too. But damn. The way she reacts to me makes it hard as hell not to pick her up, throw her sexy ass on the counter again, and fuck her so hard she’ll never forget the feel of me between her legs.

Unlike last time we fucked in the kitchen, I know Trent and Reese are home this time, and part of me likes the idea of waking them up to the sound of Emma screaming my name.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Emma murmurs, her voice low. She’s wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, and both things leave way too little to the imagination as she shifts slightly against me. “I just didn’t want to wake anyone up. My alarm went off early and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Well, you didn’t wake me. Come on, I’ll get you a coffee.”

I release her reluctantly and grab two mugs from the cabinet, pouring coffee into each. She leans against the counter and watches me as I pour cream and a little sugar into hers. Her eyebrows drift upward a little, and I think maybe she’s surprised I know how she takes her coffee.

I know a hell of a lot more than that, and I wish I was better with words like Trent and Reese are.

But I’m not. I wasn’t raised to talk shit out. Hell, in my house it was always better to just keep your head down and your mouth shut if you wanted to avoid a belt or a fist.

So yeah, I’m not great at talking about my feelings or spinning a load of flowery bullshit.

But what I can do is show Emma how I feel about her. And I plan to do that in every way possible.

“Thanks,” she murmurs when I bring the coffee over to he

r. She wraps her small hands around the mug as she accepts it from me, and her fingertips graze mine.

Maybe this makes me sound like a fucking pussy, but just that small touch makes my blood heat up like it’s caught fire. I want this girl so fucking much that it barely takes anything to get me going.

And, thank fuck, I’m not the only one.

Emma lets out a small gasp, her mouth dropping open just a little. Her gaze flies up to meet mine, and whatever she sees in my expression makes her blush.

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips as something gathers in the air between us.