Read Online Out of Her League by Samantha Wayland - Free Book Online Page B

feet.
    Michaela stood more slowly, looking at him
like he was a complete stranger, or possibly crazy. It was, sadly, a familiar
look.
    “You still want to go to breakfast with
me?” she asked, as if she didn’t understand.
    It was a fairly straightforward proposition,
he thought. “Of course. What did you think, that I’d just ditch you?” he asked,
half joking.
    Her brows drew together. “Well, yes .”
    “Geez.” Lachlan’s shoulders slumped. “I know
I have shitty social skills, but give me some credit.”
    “No! That’s not what I meant,” she said
with a whap against his arm, which he guessed meant he was being funny? She
still looked serious, though. “I just figured you must hate to be in the
spotlight. And this is my fault. I’m a terrible person for you to be friends
with, Lachlan. The worst. I would totally understand if you’d rather I just
stayed away from you.”
    “You’re not a terrible friend, and I
don’t want you to stay away from me,” Lachlan said, more forcefully than maybe he’d
intended.
    Michaela stared at him, eyes wide. “Okay.”
    “Okay,” he said with a decisive nod,
willing himself not to blush—which had never worked before and didn’t this time,
either.
    He put a hand on her back in an attempt to nudge
her gently toward the door, but she didn’t move. He wondered what else he could
say and if there was any way he could do it without looking directly at her.
    He snuck a peak at her face then froze, his
heart jumping stupidly as panic and something else he didn’t want to examine
too closely burst to life in his chest. She was smiling at up at him, the kind
of smile that always fucked him up, but this time it was worse . This
time she had tears in her eyes.
    Lachlan barely resisted the urge to throw
his hands in the air, because what the fuck was that? And what was he
supposed to do now? Was she happy or was she crying? How was he supposed to
figure this shit out?
    Completely flummoxed, he did the only thing
that had ever worked when his sister was being equally confusing.
    He hugged her.
    Michaela’s eyes widened comically, and she
made an almost wounded sound as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her
close. Their chests bumped together, her chin glancing off his shoulder, while
she remained absolutely rigid in his arms.
    So, once again, he’d probably done the
wrong thing here. And, to top it all off, Michaela Price was definitely not his sister. In so many ways, she was nothing like his sister .
    Shit .
    He tried to step back, but her hands suddenly
jerked up and curled into the back of his shirt, holding him close. Then the
confounding woman went utterly limp against him. He held on tighter by instinct
alone. It seemed like a better idea than letting her slither to the floor.
    “Thank you,” she said, her voice even
smokier than usual.
    What the hell was she thanking him for? “For
breakfast?” he guessed wildly.
    She shook in his arms, her face pressed to
his shoulder. He had a moment of sheer, unadulterated terror when he thought
she was crying for real, then he realized she was laughing.
    “What?” he asked, utterly exasperated. He
was pretty sure he’d just broken his own record for most awkwardness in a five minute
period.
    She shook her head, rolling her face
against his shoulder, but didn’t let go. He was trying very hard to ignore his
increasing awareness of the press of her body, the strength and tone of her
torso and in her arms, her long, long, fucking long legs tangled with
his.
    “No one has touched me in almost six weeks.”
    The confession was muffled against his
shirt, but he heard it. His first instinct was to tell her he hadn’t gotten
laid in months, either, but figured maybe that wasn’t what she was talking
about. He silently congratulated himself on keeping that thought in.
    But she couldn’t mean she hadn’t been
touched at all, could she?
    He tightened his hold and she snuggled in
closer, which he hadn’t thought was