AS SOON AS that god-forsaken class ends, I beeline it out the door, down the hall, past the staircase, and immediately head for the student parking lot. If it wasn't bad enough that I had to see her at my own house, now I have to see her at school as well? Unbelievable.

The woman drives me mad. She was going to leave last night and go to a homeless shelter to escape me! Is she really that stubborn? Not to mention she was living off of sandwiches for a straight fucking week! She ate bread for a week! At what point did she reach out to Liam for help? Did she have no food in her stomach before she came here? God, the thought makes me sick.

And today in class, she was shivering from her clothes being soaked. We were seated right beneath the air vent, and it irked me to the core that she was fine sitting there like that while probably catching pneumonia.

So, since she walked here, does that mean she walks home at night, too? Absolutely not. Over my dead body. Downtown LA is not a place for a woman like her to walk around without protection. I highly doubt she carries pepper spray or a Taser.

The girl is too naive. She thinks she's incapable of getting hurt. It's my biggest pet peeve about her. Always positive, always looking on the bright side... She never wants to entertain the possibility that walking downtown at night alone isn't the best option.

Then again, it's not like she has another option. I'm surprised fucking Sam didn't offer her a ride. He seemed friendly enough with her. It's been three years since she and Liam ended things. She was bound to move on at some point.

Slamming the car door shut behind me, I grip the steering wheel of my BMW with white knuckles. There is no reason she should get to me like this. I shouldn't care this much. I shouldn't be thinking about getting her out of this situation. I shouldn't be going to the fucking grocery store between classes of mine to make sure she has food she likes at the house to eat, but here I am, driving to the nearest supermarket like a fool.

Liam's contact pops up on the car's screen monitor to let me know he's calling, so I accept it and heave a sigh. "I fucking hate you," I sneer. "So fucking much."

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea. None. Did you know she's been walking home from work at night? Downtown? She had to sell her grandma's car."

"Why do you think I pushed her to move in with you? She was seconds away from going to a homeless shelter. I couldn't let that happen. If I can't be there to watch over her, I trust that you will."

Goddammit. Yet another reason to piss me off today. A constant reminder that Liam will always love her. A reminder that Liam never did anything to hurt her. He was good to her, and I have no right to have dirty thoughts about his ex-girlfriend. Not when Liam is like a brother to me.

But what should I do when Emery comes to class in tight-ass leggings that hug her endless curves? She's never looked like the girls in Los Angeles who drink matcha and do pilates.

Emery, always concerned about her appearance, had driven me wild throughout high school. For whatever reason, the pudge she claimed to have in her stomach was a major turn-on for me. The number of times I've pictured her on her back, holding onto that section of skin she hates while I fucking rail her... Jesus Christ. And today, those damn leggings outlined that fucking area of her stomach. The area I have longed to get my hands on for as long as I can remember.

"I'll make sure she's safe," I vow as I pull into the parking lot. "Feel free to call me weekly to give me free counseling sessions since I'm going to lose it with her at some point mentally."

"Will do. Hey, I have to go. Class is starting. Call you later?" He hangs up before I can reply, and I spend the next half-hour grabbing her favorite food. Barbeque chips, strawberries, orange juice, chocolate ice cream... The list is endless. While at it, I grab the ingredients to make a chicken casserole and pile everything onto the belt, gritting my teeth the entire time.

I hate her for making me feel this way. I despise her for how much she gets to me. I loathe her for being the one girl I can't make a move on, no matter how much my body begs me to.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

When I finish putting the groceries away and head upstairs to do a load of laundry before leaving for my next class, I'm surprised when the door to the bathroom opens but even more surprised when Emery steps into the hallway wearing just a pair of pink cotton panties and a push-up bra. Her hair is wet, and water droplets are still dripping down her skin from the shower.

Holy

Fucking

Shit.

I'm a dead man.

"Jesus, Everett!" Her hands fly to cover her body, that section of her stomach jiggling from the movement. Fucking taunting me. Darting back into the bathroom, she wraps herself in a towel and steps out again. It makes no difference. Now that I've seen her, the image won't ever leave my head. "I thought you were still at school!"

"I don't have a class for another hour," I say, refusing to meet her eyes. My cock is hard, raging hard, and if I stand here another second longer, she's going to notice.

Without another word to her, I push past her into my room and slam the door shut behind me, my chest heaving up and down and my zipper coming undone to release my cock.

Bracing one hand on the wall, I barely get four strokes in before my hot, spurting seed erupts from my shaft and onto the hardwood floor of my room. There was no chance of holding it back. Not after finally seeing her in lingerie. Not when I'd been dreaming about what she'd looked like in it for years.

I hold back a moan and rest my forehead against the wall, giving the final strokes while I wait for my cock to stop twitching for her. Even after I've finished, it doesn't seem to get soft. For whatever reason, it wants her. Needs her. Craves her. And I refuse to do a damn thing about it.

"Everett?" Knocks on the door interrupt me, and I heave another sigh as I tug my jeans back up and wipe my hand on a dirty shirt of mine from the floor.

"I-I'm sorry about that." She thumbs over her shoulder toward the bathroom, fully clothed now. "I didn't think you were home. I got rained on this morning, and I needed to warm up and change into different clothes before my next class, so I—"

I cut her off. "It's fine. Mistakes happen." And you can feel free to walk around in panties any time you fucking please.

"Right." She clears her throat and tugs on her bottom lip. "So, we're good?"

"As good as we normally are."

Taking a step back, she nods, seeming satisfied, but I find myself calling out her name again when she walks away, internally screaming at myself to stop. Before I can, I ask, "Do you want a ride back to campus?"

She stills in the doorway, threading her eyebrows together. "Are you sure?"

"I have to go back anyway. I have class in thirty minutes."

"Um, sure. That would be great, then. Thanks."

I'm still hard, but the shirt I used to clean the floor seconds ago, dangling in my hand, is covering it. "I'll be down in five minutes. Just need to put a load of laundry in."

Finally, when I'm alone again in my room, I close my eyes and let out a frustrated breath.

I promised Liam that I would keep her safe, which didn't include me acting like those creeps on the streets of downtown LA. Jacking off to the thought of her was a mistake. Well, I say that every time, but this time it was because she's living here. With me. What just happened five minutes ago can never happen again.

Even if the image of her in those little pink panties will be forever embedded into my head.

Author's Note:

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