Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

“Do tell,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders since my legs felt unusually weak.

“It’s been a long two weeks. I think we need to move in together before we have to take exams next time,” he said, placing his lips right below my belly button.

“That ought to go over well with your mom,” I murmured, gripping his shoulders harder as his lips left a fiery trail across my abdomen.

“What do you mean?” he asked as I crawled on top of his lap to straddle him.

“Nothing.” I was pretty sure his mom wanted our earlier conversation to stay between us.

“Just think how nice it would be to do this in between studying,” Justin said, gripping my hips in his hands as he moved against me.

“It would definitely make math just a little easier to digest,” I said. I reached a hand down to stroke him through his jeans.

He moaned loudly, straining against my hand as his lips found mine.

“You’re right. Two weeks is way too long,” I said, pushing his shoulders back until we were both lying on his bed.

“Never again,” he answered, capturing my lips.

“Never,” I agreed as we removed the rest of our clothing. He flipped me over in one fluid movement until I was beneath him. I sighed with pleasure as I felt him seeking the wetness between my legs, bringing our bodies together.

21.

Present Day

3:11 PM

“Hit me.”

“Are you sure?” Justin asked in disbelief.

“Absolutely. Now, hit me,” I demanded.

“It’s your funeral,” he said, raising his hand.

I slammed my eyes shut, unable to look.

“Twenty-three,” he crowed loudly, making me groan with frustration.

Opening my eyes, I looked down at the three cards in front of me with dismay. Damn, he was right.

“You jinxed me,” I complained as he snatched up the peppermint candy I had bet.

“Not everyone can play blackjack like me,” he bragged, scooping up the cards.

“We’ll see about that. Let me deal,” I said, holding my hand out for the deck of cards.

“As long as you promise not to weep as I continue to rack up the wins.”

“I’m surprised this elevator is big enough for your ego,” I observed as he reached over to hand me the cards. My hand grazed his, making my heart stutter. For two years I’d willed myself to forget how his touch felt. I told myself that I’d romanticized it, that all we’d shared was a typical college fling. Now, as I looked down at our hands apprehensively touching, a flood of memories washed over me. There was a time when that same hand had skimmed over my body, cherishing it like a work of art.

I looked at Justin with confusion, wondering why he didn’t pull away. He’d once proclaimed for the world to hear that he would rather cut off his own hand and feed it to an alligator than touch me again. Without looking up, Justin moved his pinkie minutely to stroke mine. I sat without moving a muscle as the forgotten playing cards slowly cascaded from my hand. He laced his fingers through mine, looking as thunderstruck as I felt. My grip instinctively closed around his like a clam claiming a piece of sand.

“How could you do that to us?” Justin asked raggedly, finally meeting my eyes. “Why do I still want you after everything you did?” he added harshly, tightening his grip around my hand until it was almost painful.

I didn’t answer his question. I could not speak for him. I was having a hard enough time sorting through my own feelings.

“Why?” he repeated.