Boyfriend Material (Hawthorne University, #2)(52)

“Kiss me again?”

“Yeah,” I murmur.

She tilts her face up, and I taste her mouth with careful brushes of my lips, my hands roving down her spine in gentle motions as I keep my hands on the outside of her shirt.

Fire zings over me as I slant my mouth across her pillowy lips.

Need rushes through my veins like a waterfall.

I haven’t been with someone in so damn long.

Her arms curl around my neck and tug at my hair as if she wants more.

“Julia . . .” I groan.

“Don’t stop . . .”

Lips and skin collide.

Sometimes it’s chaste. Sometimes hungry. Our tongues entwine and dance, exploring this new thing between us. My pulse quickens at her breathy gasps and sighs. My hands palm her scalp, massaging into her thick hair.

Throwing insecurities to the wind, I give in wholeheartedly to that kiss, reveling in the intoxication. I put my feelings in it as our tongues caress.

How beautiful she is.

How strong I think she is.

How broken I felt when I hurt her at the arena.

She’s dazed as we pull back.

She nuzzles her face into my chest as we slowly wind down.

I stroke her back in lazy circles, telling her I’ll take care of her and her mom, that I’ll make sure everything works out.

Her arms slide around my waist, careful of my bruises. Eventually her breathing deepens and my throat prickles with emotion.

When’s the last time I just . . . held a girl as we slept?

I can’t recall.

I press my lips to her forehead and fall asleep.

I wake up when Julia’s alarm goes off at half past four. We only got a few hours of sleep, but whatever we’ve done here is worth a thousand nights of rest.

I hold her face in my hands and kiss her hairline. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

She stares at me for a few moments in wonder, then nods. “Thank you.”

She stops to knock on Taylor’s door and tells him that I’m taking her.

Hours pass as we sit in the waiting room. I run across the street and grab us a breakfast from Starbucks. She picks at her egg and sausage sandwich and I keep hounding her until she agrees to eat the whole thing. It’s three hours later when the doctor comes out.

He comes our way. “Everything went as well as can be expected. We stopped the bleeding, drained the hematoma, and removed the pressure in her skull. Right now, she’s asleep and resting. Later, we’ll assess the severity and what’s next.” He gives Julia a slight smile. “It’ll be a long recovery, but she’s stable. You can visit with her now.”

A long sigh of relief comes from Julia.

And I don’t have to ask if she wants me with her.

She squeezes my hand and we head to her mother’s room.





23





Julia





Eric isn’t just a miracle.

He’s vulnerable underneath, a man with kindness. He lashed out at me because he’s always had to prove himself to his parents.

I realize that as I’m sitting in his truck, watching him help an older woman, maybe in her seventies, take her wheelchair-bound husband to their car. He’s chatting with them, then helps him inside their car. She must ask for an autograph because she hands him a piece of paper from her car and he signs it.

I smile.

We’ve been at the hospital for hours, and he never left my side except to get food then stand guard as I forced it down.

My mom is resting. I sat by her bedside for the amount of time they let me, but now my body drags, and I need to take care of me so I can see her tomorrow.

“Back to your place?” Eric asks as he gets in the truck.

I need a change of scenery to take my mind off things.

“Can we go to your place?”

He looks over at me as he puts the car in reverse. “Alright.”

I nod, liking that he doesn’t ask questions on the why of it. I watch his strong hands as he steers us out of the parking lot. I take in the yellow and purple bruise around his eye, the cut on his forehead.

He’s done nothing but protect me, and not because he wanted something.

Emotions stir in my chest as I take his hand off the gearshift and put it on my leg. He considers this, rubbing my skin slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to touch me. I need touch.”

He finally gets the picture and his fingers skate up my leg then stroke back down.

It’s not sexual. His hands massage as if to soothe, and my eyes lower as tingles of pleasure course through my body.

We arrive at his house and pull in. When Sugar and Z dated, I was here a couple of times but avoided it as much as I could.

We walk inside. It’s messy with Chinese take-out boxes and beer cans. Hockey sticks and gear are piled up in the corner. It smells like sweat and men. I laugh. Just what I expected.

“Sorry. Um, the hockey guys had a little party last night. It was better than going back to Kappa.”

I take his hand and lead him toward the stairs. I have a mission. “Where’s your room?”

He points at a door.

I start to climb up the stairs then stop as I catch a pair of eyes watching from the top of the landing. “Oh, how cute!”