Read Online All Broke Down (Rusk University #2) by Cora Carmack - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cora Carmack
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Her heart is racing, blood pulsing fast beneath my finger, and she’s taking these tiny sharp breaths. It turns me on in a way I don’t even understand. Normally, the skittish, inexperienced types send me running. But the thought of teaching her anything makes my jeans feel too tight. I want her on her back in my bed, legs spread wide, eyes big and blue, lips parted, mouth babbling that nervous nonsense until I make her forget what she’s saying, forget how to talk altogether.
I want to forget myself in her, too, steal some of her sunshine, and give this pristine, perfect girl a taste of what it’s like to get a little dirty.
“Deal,” I tell her. “But you’ll have to come upstairs. All my first-aid stuff is in the bathroom up there.”
She swallows, and I watch her long, delicate neck move.
Damn. Is there anything about this girl that doesn’t turn me on?
I watch her think about it, and when she finally fixes her eyes on me and says, “Okay,” I get the feeling that she’s come to a bigger decision than just this.
I help her down, and on the way out of the kitchen, she stops to say something to Matt. He gives her a blissed-out smile, and takes another hit.
We exit the kitchen into the front entryway and cross over to the stairs that lead up to a meager second floor that only really consists of my bedroom and a bathroom. I feel a little like the big bad wolf as I follow her up the stairs, but when she reaches the top of the landing, she shoots me a look over her shoulder that makes me pretty certain that I’m not in any hurry to rejoin the party downstairs.
“Which door is the bathroom?”
“This one.”
I twist the doorknob and open up the small room on my right. I let her go in first, mostly so I can get another look at her ass in those shorts.
“Medicine in here?” She’s already reaching for the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, and when she pulls the latch open, a box of condoms falls out.
She mumbles, “Oh crap,” under her breath, and rushes to replace the box, but it landed top down and when she picks it up, all the foil packets dump out.
She starts shoving them back in as she utters an apology. Or four.
Barely biting back a laugh, I decide not to help her and instead enjoy her flustered rush to throw the condoms back inside the box. When she’s done, she returns it to an open shelf in the cabinet, closes the door, and then steps away from the sink until her back meets the wall.
She says, “I should let you find the first-aid stuff. It’s your bathroom after all.”
I step in front of her, not bothering to open the cabinet. I turn on the tap and let the cool water run over my hands. The water runs a little pink, mostly from the dried blood, and I rub at my skin with my fingers until the water runs clear again. I turn off the tap and shake out my hands a few times before presenting them to her. Still red and raw, but clean.
“See? We’re all good. Now, let’s go show you some fun.”
I turn to go and she grabs my bicep.
“You’re not going to bandage them?”
“Bandages would just be a nuisance. They’ll heal up fine as long as I keep them clean.”
She looks around the bathroom, and I can imagine she’s thinking about the fact that college guys live here alone. How clean can things really be?
“At least put something over the worst scrapes.”
“I think you’re trying to stall.”
“I am not. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to not put anything on it. Besides, our deal was that I clean up your hands, which means I decide how to treat them.”
There she goes being bossy again.
“I’m going to leave this room with my whole hands covered in gauze, aren’t I?”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “Possibly. Now give me your hands.”
I lay them on top of hers, our palms touching, and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrow. “Can’t you ever just call me Dylan?”
I’ll call her that when I’m inside her. When she’s in my
I want to forget myself in her, too, steal some of her sunshine, and give this pristine, perfect girl a taste of what it’s like to get a little dirty.
“Deal,” I tell her. “But you’ll have to come upstairs. All my first-aid stuff is in the bathroom up there.”
She swallows, and I watch her long, delicate neck move.
Damn. Is there anything about this girl that doesn’t turn me on?
I watch her think about it, and when she finally fixes her eyes on me and says, “Okay,” I get the feeling that she’s come to a bigger decision than just this.
I help her down, and on the way out of the kitchen, she stops to say something to Matt. He gives her a blissed-out smile, and takes another hit.
We exit the kitchen into the front entryway and cross over to the stairs that lead up to a meager second floor that only really consists of my bedroom and a bathroom. I feel a little like the big bad wolf as I follow her up the stairs, but when she reaches the top of the landing, she shoots me a look over her shoulder that makes me pretty certain that I’m not in any hurry to rejoin the party downstairs.
“Which door is the bathroom?”
“This one.”
I twist the doorknob and open up the small room on my right. I let her go in first, mostly so I can get another look at her ass in those shorts.
“Medicine in here?” She’s already reaching for the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, and when she pulls the latch open, a box of condoms falls out.
She mumbles, “Oh crap,” under her breath, and rushes to replace the box, but it landed top down and when she picks it up, all the foil packets dump out.
She starts shoving them back in as she utters an apology. Or four.
Barely biting back a laugh, I decide not to help her and instead enjoy her flustered rush to throw the condoms back inside the box. When she’s done, she returns it to an open shelf in the cabinet, closes the door, and then steps away from the sink until her back meets the wall.
She says, “I should let you find the first-aid stuff. It’s your bathroom after all.”
I step in front of her, not bothering to open the cabinet. I turn on the tap and let the cool water run over my hands. The water runs a little pink, mostly from the dried blood, and I rub at my skin with my fingers until the water runs clear again. I turn off the tap and shake out my hands a few times before presenting them to her. Still red and raw, but clean.
“See? We’re all good. Now, let’s go show you some fun.”
I turn to go and she grabs my bicep.
“You’re not going to bandage them?”
“Bandages would just be a nuisance. They’ll heal up fine as long as I keep them clean.”
She looks around the bathroom, and I can imagine she’s thinking about the fact that college guys live here alone. How clean can things really be?
“At least put something over the worst scrapes.”
“I think you’re trying to stall.”
“I am not. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to not put anything on it. Besides, our deal was that I clean up your hands, which means I decide how to treat them.”
There she goes being bossy again.
“I’m going to leave this room with my whole hands covered in gauze, aren’t I?”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “Possibly. Now give me your hands.”
I lay them on top of hers, our palms touching, and say, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrow. “Can’t you ever just call me Dylan?”
I’ll call her that when I’m inside her. When she’s in my
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