Thief of Hearts
Page 74

He walked behind me down the corridor towards the classroom, his breath touching my ear when he whispered, “So, are we done talking about the money?”
I shivered, unable to help it. “N-not by a long shot.”
He stepped by me, smirking. “We’re done.”
“We are not,” I whisper-hissed. His confident expression was sexy and exasperating at the same time. He didn’t reply, only turned and stepped inside the classroom, taking his usual seat.
I had difficulty concentrating on the afternoon lesson because something felt different. Something had shifted in the dynamic between us and my entire body was weirdly tense. Sort of like when you’re excited for a surprise, but you don’t know when it’s going to happen.
I was walking up and down between the desks, explaining to the class how they were to complete a new assignment. I held my pen in my hand and dropped it just as I was walking by Stu. I didn’t think too much of it when I bent to pick it up. However, when I turned back around I knew he’d been checking out my arse. There was also the fact his eyelids were lowered, his mouth shaped into a seductive grin.
Damn.
We had a tutoring session scheduled for after class, and by the way he was looking at me I considered coming up with an excuse to cancel. He really needed to quit looking at me like that, because although it gave me butterflies, my feelings were still very muddled.
On the one hand, I felt like I was dealing with a different Stu, one who finally knew what he wanted from life. He wasn’t denying himself the chance to learn anymore. In fact, he was embracing it. But on the other hand, he was still the same person with the same history and background. Even though I’d determined I couldn’t trust being with him, especially since I had Alfie to consider, I desperately wanted to. I wanted to believe what he’d said in that note, that he thought me a part of his family. That he’d defend me.
I kept myself busy when class ended, chatting with Mary for a while as the students made their way out. Stu remained sitting at his desk, a book opened in front of him. Warmth suffused my chest when I realized he was reading The Hunger Games. There was just something too adorable about a big, tough, muscular guy like Stu sitting there reading YA dystopia, not to mention he looked completely engrossed in the story. The fact that I’d converted a man who used to get angry if I even mentioned reading a book into a reader was a reward in itself.
I said goodbye to Mary then walked to my desk. I grabbed a pen and some paper and went to sit by Stu. He glanced up just as I dragged a chair over and placed it so I was facing him. When I took in his expression I noticed he looked a little bit sad.
“You all right?” I asked, tilting my head to study him.
He sucked in a disgruntled breath and frowned at me. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just look sort of upset.”
“I’m fine,” he huffed.
I glanced between him and the book, then pulled it towards me as I scanned the page. Comprehension dawned. “You just read the part about the burned bread.”
“Yeah, so?” Stu tugged the book away from me and back to his side of the desk.
“It’s okay to be upset by it.”
His mouth firmed as he rolled his eyes. “Piss off.”
“Oh my God, you are upset. Don’t worry, Stu. I cry over books all the time. It’s normal.” I smiled widely. It was just so rare to find a subject that made him uncomfortable.
“Andrea, I’m not crying.”
“Yeah but, you’re not not crying either.”
“I hate double negatives,” he grumped, and I laughed gently.
“If it’s any consolation, I cried when I read that part, too. In fact, I’m fairly sure I was bawling my eyes out.”
His expression gentled. “It’s that soft heart of yours.”
“We all have soft hearts when it comes to stories. Come on, even if you didn’t cry just now, you had to have cried at least once when you were reading Jude. That’s the ultimate ugly cry book.”
Stu arched a brow. “Ugly cry?”
“You know, when your face goes all red and blotchy, and your nose is running and you’re literally a hot mess because you’re crying so hard.”
Stu shook his head, but he was almost smiling now. “I’ve never cried like that.”
“Liar.”
His almost smile turned into a grin. “Now that we’re talking about it, I think you might have a bit of sadistic streak making everyone in the class read that one.”
“Ah, so you did cry,” I said, teasing him.
He scowled playfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be tutoring me? Because it feels more like I’m being hounded.”
I clicked my tongue. “Still avoiding the question. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone what a big softy you are.”
He sighed heavily and there was a part of me that loved that I was getting to him. “I told you. Lee helped me read most of it, so even if I wanted to cry I wouldn’t have in front of my brother.”
“Be honest, you both cried,” I continued, still goading him. “I can see it now. The Cross brothers holding one another through the heartache.”
Stu laughed and I found myself admiring how his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. “Yes, that’s exactly right. We hugged it out then ate ice cream in our PJs to console ourselves afterwards. Happy?”
“Did you cosy up on the couch and watch chick flicks, too?”
He shook his head, leaning closer as he briefly stroked my cheek. My skin tingled where he touched me. His voice got lower, huskier. “Yes, Andrea, we watched a chick flick.”
“Which one?”
Stu opened his mouth to answer, and I could tell he really had to dig deep to think of a title. “Bridget Jones.”
“I love Bridget Jones.”
His expression went soft, his thumb stroking my cheek when he blurted, “I love you.”
Time stilled. My mouth fell open on a gasp and my heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Had I seriously just heard him correctly?
“What?” I whispered so quietly I was surprised he heard.
His thumb slid down my cheek to my chin, tipping it up so I was looking at him. In that moment I wanted to drown in the gold flecks that glittered in his hazel eyes. His voice was almost as quiet as mine when he replied, “I know you heard me, Andrea.”