Confused #1 (Confused Romance Series - book#1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

like we were
breathing, licking into each other’s mouths as we rutted against
each other. Nick’s breathing was harsh, and I wondered,
deliriously, if he could feel how turned onI was like this. I
hooked one leg around his waist, positive that if I moved in just
the right way, the hardness of him would rub against the seam of my
shorts in just the right way, hit me in just the right spot, and
– ah – there it
was.
    It would have been so easy
to go on like that. I heard myself making helpless little noises as
Nick thrust, fucking me fully clothed. I let my eyes fall shut, let
my arms twine around his neck, ready to give in to the full carnal
pleasure of what we were doing, but – at this, the worst possible
moment – I started to talk to him .
    “I want to be with you, Nick,” I
murmured into his hair. “I want more than this – more than
sex.”
    The result was the worst possible
thing, more devastating than if someone had doused us with cold
water. Nick froze, lowered me gently onto the ground, and
disentangled himself from me. As if that wasn’t distressing enough,
he deliberately took two steps backward.
    “You don’t want that, Amy,” he said
slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
    “You can’t tell me that!” I could
barely stop myself from wailing. As it was, I was hard put to keep
my distance. He’d put space between us for a reason, and I had to
respect that. “I know you feel it too – we have a
connection.”
    “Yeah, I know.” Nick actually looked
pained, like the wronged hero of a gothic romance. “It’s been good,
baby, but it’s going to disappear in the next few
minutes.”
    “Why the hell should it? There’s
nothing you can say that can make me change my mind about
you.”
    “Yeah, right.How about
this?”The bitterness in Nick’s voice cut me deeply, and it only
grew worse with the next words he spat out. “I’m a stripper, Amy.
That’s what I do at the bar. The gay bar.”
    I wish I’d reacted better.
I wish I’d put my arms around Nick and told him that what he did
for a living didn’t matter to me. Hell, I wish that I’d been able
to think that,
because, honestly, it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things
(this stripper businesshad to be a temporary thing, right?).
Instead, I staggered backwards until I could lean on the grubby
wall for support, and my treacherous brain did what it always did
in less-than-ideal situations.
    As my head reeled and my heart beat an
arrhythmic tattoo against my ribcage, my one clear thought was that
this was one thing my parents were never going to learn
about.

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