Three Little Words

By: Lauren Hawkeye

Chapter One-Two Years Ago


She was back.

I leaned back in the uncomfortable library chair in what I hoped was a casual manner. I stretched, something I actually needed to do after five hours hunched over my textbooks, but I was really just using the movement as an excuse to stare.

An excuse to stare at her.

After weeks of studying her in quick looks and hidden glances, there shouldn’t have been anything new to see, yet I found my gaze dragged to her anyway.

Her hair was long, a riot of silky waves that made my fingers itch to touch. Those waves were so red that they couldn’t have been natural, but it still suited her.

In contrast, her skin was pale, a creamy white that looked like it never saw the sun. Lots of it was visible, since she wore tight, low slung jeans and some skimpy little top with straps no wider than a piece of spaghetti. Yep, wide expanses of skin open to my hungry eyes.

Even more than the skin, I was fascinated by the ink that was etched onto it.

Brightly colored flowers sleeved her arms. I didn’t have a clue what kinds they were, but I knew that they suited her.

I wanted to run my fingers over them, to trace the brilliant, gem colored petals and stems. It was an urge that didn’t sit comfortably. No matter how hot she was, girls with tattoos weren’t my type.

I’d had ‘my type’ carved out for me since birth.

Tugging my stare away, I looked back at my textbook. The black print and yellow highlighter swam in front of my eyes. I blinked once, hard, and snuck another quick glance at her.

This time she was looking back. The expression on her face, in those insanely blue eyes was slightly mocking, daring me to say something, or even to just smile.

A jolt rocketed through me as I felt myself pulled into the intensity of that stare. I tried to open my mouth, to say something, but the words stuck in my throat.

Finally I tore my stare away, mortified. I felt my cheeks flush, not such a manly look for a dude.

I seriously had to get this... obsession, or whatever it was... under control, or I was going to have to find a new place to study. Though I still didn’t understand why she hung out here, in the law library.

She could have been prelaw, I supposed, but I’d certainly never seen her in any of my classes. I would have noticed. Not to mention that... well... she just didn’t look like law school was her big calling.

There were exceptions, true enough, but most of the people that I crammed into those massive lecture theatres with were a bit more on the conservative side than the redheaded goddess seated down the table.

More conservative... more like me.

Focus, I told myself, trying to shake her from my mind. It didn’t matter how much she fascinated me, nothing was ever going to happen in that direction. I wasn’t even sure that I wanted it to.

She was hot. I wanted her. But I couldn’t imagine us together. I had a preconceived notion of my life, a five year plan, and a sexy redhead with tattoos didn’t fit into it.

The scent hit me first. Wild and sweet, the perfume teased the insides of my nose, heated my gut.

I swallowed thickly, bracing myself, then looked up to find the gorgeous creature from my most prurient daydreams, sitting across the table from me.

“Hey,” she said, and her voice was exactly like I’d pictured it, smoky and full of sex.

“Hi.” My own voice sounded strangled. I took a deep breath, exhaled through my nose, and tried to calm the fuck down.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” She leaned over and drummed her fingers on the open page of my textbook. Those ropes of red hair brushed over the tops of her breasts as she did, and I had a sudden mental picture of that vivid scarlet against the heat of my cock.

Bad Mal. Focus.

“Well?” She repeated her question, and I blinked, struck dumb by the twilight zone of having the object of my affection actually talking to me.

And now that she was, she was going to think I was a total dumb ass.

“I have a lot of studying to do.” Man, that sounded lame. I settled back in my chair and raked a hand through my chestnut colored hair, which was likely sticking straight up after so many hours in the library. “Prelaw. You know.”

“I don’t, actually. I’m in nursing.” She tossed that long hair over her shoulder, and I watched, mesmerized, as the breasts revealed by that skimpy top jiggled with the movement. “I just like to study here.”

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