Decker: A Standalone college romance: A Boys of HGU Novel by Victoria McFarlane

Author:Victoria McFarlane [McFarlane, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-16T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

I’m not fluffing my hair for any other reason than it’s looking a little flat. I’m not adding a gloss to my lips or changing into a pair of jeans and tight sweater because Vincent’s coming over. Not at all.

I’m set up in the bedroom, my laptop out on the bed but I wonder if that’s too much? Would he be more comfortable in the kitchen area?

I don’t have enough time to overthink it when there’s a gentle tap on the door. My heart lurches into my throat and my stomach flips like a pancake.

It’s fine. It’s completely fine. I’m fine.

The door swings open and Vincent stands there, freshly showered, his hair flopping over his forehead boyishly and he has a grin on his face, one definitely used to disarm anyone who looks his way. First, I’m stunned by just how freaking hot he is but then my eyes are snagging on the bruise on his face.

“Holy shit!” I exclaim.

Nerves gone, I grab his wrist and haul him into the dorm.

“What the hell happened?”

“On the field,” his eyes dart to the left.

He’s lying.

I straighten my spine, trying to stand taller as I gently tilt his face to the side so I can check the bruising more closely.

“It’s nothing,” he winces when my fingers brush over the deep shadow marring is beautiful face.

“Sure looks like nothing,” I mutter, dropping my hand and heading over to the medicine cabinet. I pull out the small box of supplies I keep in there, the pots of creams and boxes of medicine rattling together. I finally find the little bottle I came for, grab it and shove the box back in the cabinet.

Vincent is watching curiously, one brow cocked.

“You gonna nurse me back to health?” he teases, the side of his mouth edging up with a hint of a smile.

“Sit your ass on the bed,” I order, my mouth almost dropping open when he actually complies, heading towards my bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me.

I close the gap between us, pretending I don’t feel the heat of his gaze travelling over my body.

Nope I didn’t wear this for him. I didn’t wear it because I knew it hugged my hips just right or that the sweater followed the curve of my waist like a second skin and the neckline was low enough to tease the hint of cleavage without showing too much.

I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, feel the pulse in my neck fluttering wildly, like a trapped butterfly in a mason jar. This was him. All him. His presence. His body and face, his personality. His soul.

When I’m close enough he tilts his chin back, looking up at me, and slowly, so very slowly, he opens his knees so I can step between his thighs.

I swallow and his eyes dart to where my throat works before bouncing back up to meet my gaze.

“Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I add steel to my tone though I feel none of the confidence.

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