Only With You (Knights #2)

18

JULIANNA

“I still can’t believe this has been going on for two weeks.” El gapes, astonished, but it’s quickly replaced with a giddy smile. “How does it feel? Tell me everything.”

My fingers hover over the keys of my laptop briefly before I resume typing. The last thing I want to do is talk about Landon now or ever, unless it involves me physically talking to him when we’re studying. Even then I don’t like talking to him, but it’s not because I can’t stand him. It’s because of the weird feeling that takes place in my stomach anytime I do.

It dips and oddly tumbles. I can’t explain it, but I’m just going to pretend it’s not real because whatever is going on is definitely not real .

“There’s nothing to say. I don’t feel anything.” I don’t. I really don’t. “We study.” That’s the truth. “And that’s it.” That’s the partial truth.

We still argue, but that’s something that won’t change, but it’s not as bad as it used to be. Well…maybe it’s still bad, but the arguing isn’t constant because we’ll pause, add a bit of conversation while we cook, and go back to doing what we do best. Argue.

Granted, whenever we talk, it’s short, and it’s never anything about each other.

Usually, it’s him making fun of my favorite YouTuber and me telling him he’s jealous. Or how we like to cook our meals. He also recently found out I have a mug obsession and likes to make a joke here and there, but it’s never mean.

It’s kind of strange, but I’m still keeping my guard up. With Landon, there’s no telling what’ll come out of his mouth or what he’s thinking. He always looks so detached, so cold.

Sometimes I wonder what goes through his mind. I feel like there’s more to him. It feels wrong wanting to know more, but I do.

She slumps in her chair, blowing out a breath through her nose. “Two weeks and that’s all you have to say?”

I suppress my smile and lift my brow at the disappointment laced on her face. “What did you expect to happen? It’s tutoring.”

El sits up, closing her laptop, and slides it away from her. We’re in one of the study rooms in the library, working on our assignments but also hanging out. She’s been busy with work and I’ve been busy with tutoring that we’ve hardly seen each other. So this is the only way we could be together.

Though we’ve hardly done anything, because she keeps talking and I keep entertaining whatever comes out of her mouth. I can’t help it. I’ve missed her and her rambunctious self.

Aside from tutoring, I’ve been busy with the sorority. I wish I weren’t because things feel weird after my conversation with Sienna two weeks ago. None of the girls have said anything to me, but her closest friends look at me like they know something.

Because they adore Sienna, they’ll believe anything she says. So I wouldn’t put it past her to tell them I tried to take Landon away from her. I’m not sure how that’s possible when he has never been hers to begin with, but I digress.

I can’t begin to imagine what Sienna will think if she finds out Landon is tutoring me. That’s why I haven’t said anything to anyone but El. I hate drama and the last thing I want or need is more of it.

“If this were anyone else, I would believe it’s just tutoring, but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Landon fucking Taylor.” She practically melts in her chair, sighing dreamily.

“Ewh, don’t say it like that.” I scrunch my nose, but the desired effect isn’t there like it usually is.

She gives me a you’re full of shit look. “Oh, come on, don’t pretend like you don’t see it. He’s fine as hell with beautiful hair. I know it. Everyone knows it. And you know it, too. He’s got this I’ll fuck you up and you’ll like it, too look.”

I keep my expression neutral, because the last thing I’ll ever admit to her or anyone out loud is that he’s fine as hell. As El so thoughtfully put it.

“Looks aren’t everything. He’s still an asshole,” I point out.

“A fine -looking asshole.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re in denial,” she quips.

I roll my eyes at that, but I don’t add anything else. Not that I have to, because El carries on, replying to my question I had hoped she would have forgotten.

“And I just thought you guys would have finally caved into your hatred and fucked it out of your systems.”

I almost laugh, because the probability of that ever happening is slim to none. We’ve managed to act like civilized adults when my roommates or his best friend are around. But it never lasts long. We’re not down each other’s throats as bad as we used to be, but we’re not singing each other’s praises either.

“El, this isn’t porn. Or whatever it is you think this is.”

“Never said it was, but…” A Cheshire grin grows on her face. “It very much could be. Hear me out.” She holds her palms out for me not to interrupt her. “Just imagine, you’re sitting there next to him, and he’s teaching you something, but you’re distracted by his large hands and how they’d feel on you. He realizes you’re not paying attention and decides to punish you for it. He bends you over the table, lifts your skirt, and makes you?—”

“That’s oddly descriptive.” An unbearable heat touches my cheeks. The scenario plays vividly in my head, and before I can shake it off, I imagine what happens next. Oh . “What have you been watching?”

“Nothing, anymore,” she huffs, propping her elbow on the table, laying her chin on her palm. “It’s been a while, don’t judge me.”

“No judgment here. It’s been a while for me too. Nothing really works anymore.”

Her face alights.

“No. It’s not going to happen.” I shut her down.

“I know. I’m just messing this time. So, now that it’s been two weeks, are you keeping him or kicking him to the curb?” She stands two fingers on the table, and with her other hand flicks them. Her fingers go flopping in the air until she smacks them against the table.

I chuckle at her demonstration. “No, I’m not kicking him to the curb. I don’t know how he does it, but it all just makes sense with him.”

I anticipated for this to end horribly and waited for it to all blow up in my face. I expected him to make fun of my lack of understanding for letters and numbers, but the insults never came. He didn’t make fun or get frustrated with me when I didn’t get it the first or third time.

“There’s no confusion with him. He’s straightforward, but not in a douchebag kind of way that makes me feel stupid. He slows down, takes his time, and finds a way for me to get it. You should see the look on his face, like he’s determined and refuses to give up on me.”

I don’t tell her that he works over and doesn’t care that I pay him extra. Which I do because I feel bad that he leaves so late, considering everything he has going on.

She smiles.

“What?”

El shakes her head. “Nothing. I just thought of something, but I’m happy you’re getting it. Before you know it, your grade will be an A and the tutoring will finally be over.”

“Yeah…finally.”

I just did something unfathomable.

That was so wrong. It was so wrong.

What the hell was I thinking?

I stop pacing, groan, squeeze my eyes shut, only to open them back up as images of what I just did during my shower play in my head.

I swear it wasn’t my intention. I swear I didn’t plan it. I swear I didn’t mean to come to the thought of Landon.

No, of course it’s not my fault. It’s all Eloise. She’s the one who planted the stupid picture in my head.

Covering my blistering face with my palms, I stand in the middle of my room, breathing raggedly, but feeling immensely sated.

I don’t know what came over me, but as I was about to shut the water off, a sick idea ran through my head. I was going to immediately shut it down until an ache in my core grew. Before I knew it, I was picturing El’s scene in my head.

I pictured the stupidly-hot veins on Landon’s hands and wondered what they’d feel like on me again. Then my thoughts got out of control. He had me bent over on the table, with my skirt above my ass, fucking me. But that wasn’t what set me off. What sent me over the edge was the sound of his voice and the words I’d imagined him saying to me.

Such a good, needy slut. Letting me use your body to pay for your tutoring.

It sounds so degrading and wrong on so many levels, but it’s the reason I had two fingers inside of me while I played with my nipples and came hard.

El didn’t add that last bit, but something inside my head took over and I went with it. Now, it’s consuming me and I’m getting turned on again.

My thoughts come to an abrupt halt and my breath hitches as three knocks come from the living room.

With heavy steps, I trudge down the hallway, and with a shaky breath, I open the front door.

I should’ve thought this through. I should’ve canceled. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to succumb to my traitorous, horny thoughts.

Landon stands on the other side of the door, face blank and lips flat, but not dry. I’ve never seen him use it, but something tells me he uses the Aquaphor Lip Repair I gave him.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to let me in?” Irritation marks his face, but then his eyes narrow and inspect my face. “Don’t tell me you’re not feeling well? The last thing I need is to get sick.”

Thank God he’s an asshole because I was getting carried away.

I give him a tight— fuck you —smile, leave the door open, and take my usual seat at the dining table. I wish I could say I walked away because of his shitty attitude, but really, it’s because I can’t breathe.

It’s like he sucked up all of the oxygen. My throat feels dry, my body feels sickeningly hot, and the spot between my thighs pulses with an uncontrollable need. I’m still too consumed in my degrading fantasy, and now he’s here, and it doesn’t help.

“I’m not in the mood for your childish games, Hollywood. Are you sick?”

I’ve been too caught up in my thoughts and hadn’t realized he was still standing by the door.

What’s wrong with me?

Grabbing my thoughts, I bury them as deep as I can and pretend like nothing ever happened.

“I’m not sick, but thanks for expressing your concern. So glad to hear that you’re worried for my well-being.” Shit, is my face still red?

He comes in hesitantly and sits next to me. His eyes track my movements, watching me with skepticism.

“I’m not sick, so stop looking at me like I’m the bubonic plague .” He called me that on New Year’s Eve. “I wouldn’t purposely let you come over to get you sick. I promise I’m not that big of a bitch, but if you’re not comfortable being around me, you can leave.”

“You’re not a bitch.” His soft voice has me almost falling out of my chair.

I force myself to breathe when my lungs burn and beg for air.

It’s dramatic, but his disdain for me is so strong. He’s called me a bitch once, and out of all the things he’s ever said, that one word always stuck to me.

So that word should be the center of my attention, but really, it’s the way his tongue pokes out and glides across his lips.

“Where’s your Aquaphor?” I ask instead, because my mind is all over the place and I think I’m losing it.

He slips his palm in the front pocket of his shorts and sets the tube on the table. “Happy?”

There’s that odd dip and tumble again.

“You actually use it?” I inquire, staring keenly at it.

“How could I not? You were so concerned for my lips,” he says smugly.

“Not concerned. I just hate chapped lips.”

“ Not concerned , yet you spent the entire time we were together obsessing over me licking them.”

“I wasn’t. Get over yourself.”

He clicks his tongue all condescending-like and I can hear his stupid patronizing posh accent before he speaks. “I can’t. Not when you won’t look at me because you’re too embarrassed you got caught.”

I look up and regret it because I think he looks concerned and that oddly stirs something in me. Fuck my life. How did I go from finding him repulsive, to feeling…whatever it is I’m feeling.

Maybe I am getting sick.

“Get over yourself,” I repeat again with more finality and a bit of ice in my voice.

Satisfaction glints in his eyes and I realize I fell into his stupid little trap. He wanted me to look up at him, and I did just that.

But the gratifying look wavers and he searches my face. “You’re not sick.”

“I told you I wasn’t.” I’m hot because I just came to the thought of you.

“I know, but I just wanted to make sure.” Landon’s words are so sincere, so oddly soft. He pauses and repeats the four words from earlier. “You’re not a bitch.”

“You thought otherwise not too long ago.”

“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

This is the second time he’s said sorry to me. I touch my forehead with the back of my hand, wondering if maybe this is all a fever dream. That gets the corners of his lips to tug a fraction upward. It’s not enough to bear a smile, but enough that I know it’s one. In his own way.

“And I’m sorry I called you a piece of shit,” I earnestly say, because that’s what I said to him and earned him to call me one in return.

Our gazes collide and something shifts in the atmosphere.

“It’s been two weeks. Did I pass your trial?” It’s Landon who changes the subject like nothing happened. Like he doesn’t feel anything and that’s probably because he didn’t. He has to put up with me whether he likes it or not. After all, I’m paying him to tutor me.

This time, my stomach doesn’t tumble, but it does sink a little.

I dramatically sigh like it pains me to say this. “Yes, you passed, but if you’re going to gloat about it, at least do it when you’re not here. I don’t want to hear or see it.”

Opening my laptop back up, I glance just in time to see his cheek twitch, but his lips remain flat. Though my gaze falls to our legs as I feel his brush against mine.

“Problem?” His voice pulls my gaze up.

I shake my head, willing my stomach to stop tumbling. “No, we should get started.”