The Classmate – Steamy Shorts Read Online Lena Little

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
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“Hmm. I can make you another but…”

“But what?”

“My place is small.”

The words hang heavy. I know what he means. I can blame it on the alcohol or my residual anger from my “birthday party”, but I really just want to spend time with him. I’ve already spent months glancing at him when I think no one’s looking.

In fact, I started my senior year with grades that barely passed. I just didn’t care anymore. Then, I met Theo. He sat behind me in class, head down, earphones in, not paying any attention to anyone. His hair was still cropped close to his scalp. He even had a tattoo peeking from his collarbone.

He intrigued me, so I kept staring. When he looked up, everything faded into the background. My heart rate picked up, sweat beading between my breasts, and I couldn’t breathe.

His eyes were intense. He had a huge scar on his left cheek, but that wasn’t what drew me to him. It was his pull on me that I didn’t understand. I’d never felt anything that strong before.

When I found out he was smart as hell, I doubled my efforts in class. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was nothing more than a stupid rich girl.

If someone told me months ago I’d end up in Theo’s house for my 21st birthday, I would’ve laughed.

It’s not so funny now because all I can think of is it’s just him and me.

I pinch my palm, trying to make sure this isn’t a dream. “I don’t care. Take me there, Theo.”

Good thing my voice doesn’t shake, but I’m nervous—as nervous as the day one of the professors called me in class.

“You sure? You don’t even know me that well, Tess.”

“Theo, I’m not in the habit of getting into strangers’ cars and going to their houses. I’m here because I know you and I know you won’t take advantage of me, hurt me, or intentionally put me in danger.”

“Never,” he says with a steely determination that surprises me.

“Then, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Theo wasn’t kidding when he said his place was small.

He lives on the basement floor of a four-story brownstone. It’s a studio type, with no bedroom, one bathroom, and plenty of liquor.

With my hands clasped behind my back, I eye the shelves full of half-empty bottles. “You drink a lot?”

“No, but Viktor does. He enjoys a glass or two when he’s here. I like to experiment with mixing drinks, so he’s my unofficial taste tester.”

“Hmm.”

I’m still trying to read the labels in the bottles when Theo calls from his kitchen island. “What do you want to eat? I can throw in some grilled cheese to pair with the tomato soup.”

I swivel and beam. “My favorite comfort foods.”

He stares at me for a bit and sweeps his tongue across his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth. Oh, Lord. He might as well have sucked the oxygen in the room.

It’s stifling hot despite the air conditioner droning behind me. I should’ve expected this. I mean, I get turned on just watching him from afar. Of course, that’s going to be ten times worse when I’m alone with him. All those dreams of being with him have nothing on this.

Theo has this raw, undiluted sex appeal. I don’t know if he’s aware, but the air changes when he’s around, which is why I always know when he’s in the classroom.

I change course and head to a wooden bookshelf separating his bed and two-seater orange leather couch. He mostly has textbooks, some magazines about craft cocktail drinks and new techniques to mix them, and notebooks. I go to sit on the couch when something catches my eye.

No way. No freaking way.

On the third shelf, above his copy of Freakonomics, is a silk rainbow scrunchie.

My scrunchie.

The scrunchie I thought I lost at the gym.

I take it and run my fingers along the cool, smooth fabric. With my heart in my throat, I turn to him.

Theo dips a wooden spoon in the pan and scoops a bit of tomato soup, bringing it to his mouth for a taste. He seems satisfied because he turns off the stove and grabs a bowl from the overhead cabinets.

“Theo?”

He throws a cursory glance at me over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Why do you have this?”

He faces me fully and raises a brow. With a sigh, I lift my hand and dangle the scrunchie.

In the span of ten seconds, Theo goes from horror to anxiety to discomfort and finally, acceptance.

He leans against the sink, takes off his glasses, and pinches the bridge of his nose. This makes me realize that Theo isn’t the unfeeling guy some of our classmates think he is.

No, he’s just guarded.

Him letting that guard down around me is … well, it makes fuzzy feelings erupt in my chest.


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