(Euphoria 1&2)
Nate Jacob's was many things, but a psychopath couldn't be one of them. Being a little psycho meant he couldn't feel anything and Nate could feel everything, especially with her-Alora McKay
He felt his crotch jump when she wore low cu...
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Chapter 28: Sick In the Head
Alora's stomach grumbled, regret filling her being for ignoring the lunch she'd procured just because Nate had evaded whatever rational thoughts she possessed and threw them away like trash. It didn't help that her first class of the day was with him, her eyes trailing to the side to glance at his lax frame, legs spread wide as his back curled against the back of his chair. If he noticed her staring he didn't let on, chestnut eyes focused on the front of the room, seemingly listening to the lesson being taught—she couldn't say the same for herself, pen twirling in her hand unused and paper unmarked. She was probably supposed to be taking notes, scribbling down important pieces of information that would help her pass whatever pop quiz or elaborately structured test that was sure to appear within the next few days but she couldn't even tear her mind away from the tall boy sat a few rows away.
The thought of his hands on her body was seared in her brain no matter how many times she'd previously laid bare beneath him, his mouth on her neck or fingers gripping at her hair in attempts to hold her closer or gain some sort of control to anchor her body to his.
Alora couldn't remember the last time she was down this bad.
Not when she'd had that casual fling with the floppy haired boy from the prep school a few miles out with eyes as blue as the Caspian sea. Not when she'd used that one gorgeous football player who spent his weekends coaching the little league team her cousin frequented on the weekends with skin as smooth as mahogany wood and muscles that rippled every time he moved—it'd been particularly hard letting that one go but he wanted more and she wouldn't budge for anything other than a few stolen kisses and frenzied fucks in the back seat of his sports-car.
Alora hadn't even felt feelings creep up when her and Fezco had tried it out together, both of them so high their eyes were barely open and rimmed red—he was surprisingly gentle and admittedly wasn't bad between the sheets but she was too worried it would ruin their friendship; all but begging him afterwards when their skin was still slick with sweat and hearts thrumming in their chest to never speak of it again. He was noticeably hurt but kept the promise and never brought it up.
There were tons of guys begging for her affections, throwing well-thought out compliments and nicely planned dates—but they weren't Nate.
Nate Jacobs, who'd fulfilled every need, checked every box even though he was possessive and a little dangerous; definitely masking some childhood trauma and sugarcoating it with good sex that paired well with a pretty smile. So many warning bells rang when around him but that was the kind of thrill she'd craved—the sort of love she yearned for when binge watching her silly little romantic television shows or settling in for a good movie. The bad boys, the ones that screamed, "I'm so wrong for you." All dark hair and warm eyes and the worn leather jackets—the ones that hurt the people around them but fought harder for the girl they loved more than any good boy she'd ever seen.
