Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
“I didn’t break the bank,” he assures.
“You better not have.” We’re obviously not racking in any big tips here. “Your financial situation is already dire. How are you going to buy toilet paper for this primitive excursion?”
“I was probably going to use leaves anyway.” His smile is too cute for the End of the World.
“Funny. You know what’s funnier—if you get poison ivy, I won’t be there to lotion your wounds.”
“Straight to the heart.” He sounds less jokey and sadder.
I’m fucking up this gift receiving, tanking the upbeat mood already, but in my defense, I have very little experience in opening gifts. “You picked this out?” I point to the cupcake paper.
“From Audrey’s stash. My sister let me raid her stationary.” It must’ve been on a Wednesday when he visits her in Philly.
I peel the paper. Unveiling a white box. My pulse speeds so fast, I need to pause to intake some breath. “I love it,” I banter, but I think the truth is already out: I am enamored.
His smile widens. “All it takes is a box to make Harriet Fisher happy. Who knew?”
All it takes is you.
“I’m easy,” I say. “Not like an easy lay.” My defensive glare fizzles out in seconds with him.
“I know what you meant,” he says softly. “Open it.”
So I lift the lid, and my heart pitter-patters in a brand new drumbeat. I take out a really pretty beaded choker. Multi-colored. Square and round beads threaded together. “You made this?” I ask quietly.
“With a slight assist from Audrey since I wanted it to actually look good, but yeah. I made it.”
I inspect the beads. A smiley face, a glittery purple one, yellow, blue, a pink heart, and then white letters, B-E-L…O-I-S-E-A-U.
It spells out beautiful bird.
Our conversation from two weeks ago in the campus library races back to me. “It’s…” I look up at him, hiding none of the overpowering emotion on my face. I don’t think I can.
His eyes redden like he feels the brunt force of my appreciation, affection, all the gooey sentiments I never thought I’d experience to this degree.
I manage to get out, “It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given.” I snap off my old dingy choker so I can wear the new one right now. “Thanks, Ben.”
“Here.” He offers to put the new choker on me, and this birthday really might end with me as a puddle on the floor.
I lift my blonde hair off my neck, and as he wraps the choker around me, his knuckles brush the sensitive skin along my nape. My breath hitches a little, and he shifts his weight, his eyes flitting to mine like his need is being stirred. Tension flexes the tendons of his neck, and he breathes through his nose while he clasps the jewelry.
I touch the beads at my throat. He’s standing so close that I’ve instinctively spread my knees, and he’s fit between them. We’re at much better eye-level than usual, and his chest collapses in a heady, sweltering beat.
We haven’t had sex yet. We won’t at our workplace, and honestly, I’m glad Ben isn’t willing to screw me against a bathroom stall as our first time. It won’t be a rushed quickie. He’s treating it as something valuable that should last. Maybe even have a round two right afterward.
It’s so different from what I know sex to be.
Thinking about where and when we’ll hook up—I like. The fear that I might be rejected from the Honors House—I hate more than anything. Being accepted has become even more mission critical for this semester. If I fail, then what? Ben just leaves?
No, I have to get in. Then fling a pair of panties at Leif. Then secure Ben housing.
The Honors House has my application, and I’ve heard a whole lot of nothing in response, even after follow-up emails. Ben has been trying to score me an invite to their super exclusive Halloween party.
Apparently, it’s where they scope out potential new members. If I can’t get into the party, then my chances are basically in the gutter.
He knows it too.
Maybe that’s why it’s easier focusing on the sex part of this whole bet. Success rate of us finding a good place and time to bone is higher. Surely we can’t fuck that up, right?
Ben has a hand on my knee and slides a hot trail up my thigh. Even with my plaid pants creating a barrier from his skin to my skin, the heat of him thrums through me. My clit is throbbing.
“Is the waiting torture for you too?” I ask in a whisper, our breaths shallowing together.
“You have no idea.” He pulls his hands away, a rough groan against his throat. “It feels like I’m putting my palm above a flame every day.”
“I thought you weren’t the Cobalt who plays with fire.”