Breathless 3 (Breathless #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

even giving me a second glance on his way back to whatever was on TV. A
moment later, Johnny appeared at the door, as if out of nowhere. His confusion
left his face all at once as his gaze settled on me.
    “Becky! Hey, baby.” He came through the door and
kissed me immediately, not even giving me an opportunity to react or to ask him
not to. Part of me melted. In spite of my fear and anxiety, I had missed him,
missed the way his lips felt against mine. He pulled back, his hands on my
waist, looking down at me. “You’re still looking a little off, but I’m glad you
felt good enough to come by,” he smiled, looking so genuinely pleased to see me
and so happy that I was there, that I almost gave up on my quest. But you have to know. You have to find out.
You can’t just let him charm you into forgetting.
    “I still feel a little iffy, but I wanted to come over
and talk to you.” I gave Johnny the strongest smile I could manage and he
touched my cheek, his bright eyes full of affection and some sweet, gentle look
that I couldn’t help but warm to.
    “Why don’t you come in? The game’s almost over.” There
was another shout, another cheer from inside and I glanced over his shoulder.
The idea of being around all of his other frat brothers was less than
appealing, but I told myself that I was on a mission. I had a responsibility to
get this over with.
    “If it’s almost over, sure,” I said. Johnny laughed at
my doubtful look.
    “I swear. A few more minutes and you can have me all
to yourself.” I was determined; we were going to have this conversation sooner
rather than later.
    “Lead the way then,” I said, giving him another smile.
    As Johnny led me into the frat house living room, a
wave of revolting smell rolled through the air, filling my nose. Every eye of
every boy in the house was on the huge flat screen TV; they were in different
jerseys, most of them holding either beers or red Solo cups. The entire room
reeked of cheap liquor and beer, sweat, and stale Doritos and Cheetos. I
crinkled my nose in distaste and resolved to breathe as much as I could through
my mouth instead of through my nose; that at least might make it more bearable.
    I couldn’t make anything out about what was going on
in the game; it was football, but I had come in, as Johnny told me, towards the
end of the game. I had never really had an easy time understanding anything at
all about football in general, even with a few of my high school friends
playing for the school team. But I sat down in Johnny’s lap when he resumed his
seat and obediently glanced at the TV. I noticed that of all of the guys in the
frat, Johnny was the only one not drinking something; half of the rest of them
were positively tore down.
    I felt a flicker of irritation as Johnny’s attention
went onto the game almost completely. He wasn’t as hugely invested in the game
as the rest of the guys, but he was obviously watching intently. After a few minutes
he glanced back at me. “So you’re feeling better?” his hand on my waist
caressed me through my clothes lightly and I was conflicted between feeling a
little bit revolted at my surroundings, a little bit afraid of this man whose
character I didn’t know, and a little bit irritated.
    “A little,” I said, smiling slightly. The other boys
in the frat were talking amongst themselves, debating something — arguing some
play or some call by the ref, I wasn’t sure. Johnny’s attention went back to
the game, and in spite of the fact that he was still caressing me idly,
stroking up and down along my waist and ribs, holding me close, it was obvious
to me that I might as well have almost not even been there.
    I heard one of the frat brothers say something in a
low voice about one of the cheerleaders as the TV showed a brief flicking shot
of them. The boys around him laughed — the drunk, annoying, coughing kind of
laugh that a bunch of twenty-something boys make when they’re drunk, and I
frowned to