All of You Read Free Page B

his pause made my palms sweat.
     
“Um, I don’t know. A business or marketing major; something more . . .” He trailed off and
     
scratched the back of his neck, looking at the wall behind me.
     
“More what?” What did Hot Boy really think of me? Maybe I should’ve just been happy he was
     
thinking of me at all.
     
“More aggressive , cutthroat, I guess.”
     
My face fell. Right there he was telling me he knew I was after him that one night. And somehow I
     
hated what he saw in me. I did not go after guys. They went after me .
     
But he thought I was some sort of predator. And that made me want to prove to him wrong.
     
I didn’t care about guys. Any of them. And I certainly didn’t care what they thought of me. Except
     
for this very instant.
     
“Nope.” I pushed off the washer and moved past him to my clothes, my hip brushing against his
     
stomach, and my knees almost buckled. I hauled my undies and bras out at supersonic speed, wanting to get the hell away from him and how he made me feel. “Guess I’ve got a soft spot for the sick and
     
vulnerable.”
     
“That’s admirable.” His voice was velvety soft, almost like a whisper. It rumbled up my spine to
     
my hairline and I almost shivered against it. I didn’t say anything in response, because my mouth had
     
trouble forming words.
     
“So, um, anyway, sorry for touching your stuff,” he said, straightening himself. I could feel his
     
body directly behind mine, and the heat rolling off of him. Normally I’d have a seductive or smart-ass
     
retort for his comment, but nothing came.
     
I left the dryer open and slinked past him to the elevator, pushing the down button a little too
     
aggressively. “Good night.” When the rickety doors squeaked closed behind me, I let out the breath I
     
had been holding.
     
***
     
A scraping sound woke me out of a dead sleep. I blinked at the ceiling, trying to get my bearings. The
     
noise was coming from directly outside my bedroom window. Shadows played across the blinds. I saw
     
the outline of a head and shoulders, and my stomach seized up.
     
Somebody was trying to break in, trying to pry open the glass. My heartbeat thundered in my ears,
     
and my fingers slid like sludge toward my phone on the nightstand.
     
But the rest of my body was cemented in place. I couldn’t move as sheer terror enveloped me and
     
held me captive.
     
Was this person going to rob me or rape me? My breath shot out in sputtering gasps.
     
I’d taken self-defense courses three times over the last couple of years and knew how to respond in
     
this type of situation. All I needed to do was reach for my phone and dial 9-1-1, then run like hell out my
     
front door. But for some reason I could not get my body unstuck.
     
I’d been in a similar heightened state of danger when I was sixteen and had fought back. This was the exact reason I kept my self-defense training sharp, so why wasn’t I able to respond now?
     
Living on the first floor of this apartment building hadn’t been my first choice as a female resident,
     
but it was my only choice at the time.
     
The sound of my window popping and sliding open forced my heart to jam into my throat, and I
     
gagged on my own saliva.
     
All at once I heard a gruff voice shouting from outside. “What the hell are you doing? Get away
     
from that window. I’m calling the cops.”
     
There was a scuffling sound, a loud clunk, and then heavy grunting. All I could gather is that
     
whoever was at my window had dropped to the ground and started running.
     
I heard that same voice outside yell, “Son of a bitch! You’re not getting away with this!” and then
     
heard panting like he was in pursuit of whoever had been about to break in.
     
And still I was glued to my bed, my chest painfully throbbing from breathing so damn hard.
     
Next, there was a voice beneath my window. “Avery, are you in there? Are you okay? It’s Bennett.
     
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