Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) by J. L. White Read Free Book Online Page B

down on the foot of my bed. “You need to get out and have a little fun. I can see it.”
    Ashley appears in the doorway and leans against the jamb.
    “Ashley’s going,” Sam says.
    “Just for a bit,” Ashley says. She doesn’t need to explain why. She has a big performance tomorrow. We all know she won’t be out late or drinking much tonight.
    “Is Chloe going?” I ask.
    Sam makes a face. “Brad has a thing he wants her at. So see? You have to go. It can’t be just Ashley and me.”
    “Thanks a lot,” Ashley says easily.
    “I don’t know,” I say.
    I should probably go and try to... I don’t know... have fun I guess. I know I’m being stupid about Professor Shane Brooks. I can’t seem to stop myself.
    “I have studying to do,” I say.
    Sam rolls her eyes and shuts my book. “You probably have that stupid book memorized by now. Come on, Isabella. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
    “What? Who?”
    “Tony’s friend. He’s completely fuckable and I’d say you could use a good fuck.”
    “Nice, Sam. What about Ashley?” I gesture to Ashley, who’s still standing in the doorway wearing an amused grin. “Why don’t you pick on her for once?”
    “Ashley’s got her piano.”
    “You want me to go fuck some random guy but Ashley has her piano?”
    “Have you seen the way she plays that thing when she thinks no one’s looking?”
    “Shut up, Sam,” Ashley says from the doorway.
    “Come on,” Sam says, putting both hands on the mattress next to me and bouncing up and down. “Come on, come on, come on. It’ll be fun!”
    I can’t help but smile. “Oh fine. I’ll go.” Ashley smiles and disappears.
    “Hooray!” Sam says, hopping off my bed and heading for my closet.
    “But I’m not sleeping with anyone,” I say, climbing off the bed.
    “You haven’t even seen him yet,” she says, rummaging through my tops. She tosses me a low-cut red number that I am not wearing. If I were in the mood for flirting with boys, sure, but not tonight.
    “Not relevant,” I say, catching it and throwing it back at her. I grab a black top that’s cute enough for a party but not too suggestive.
    Sam rolls her eyes. “What are you, in mourning? How about this one?” She holds up a purple top that shows off my cleavage.
    I take off my tee and throw on the black top.
    “Wait!” Sam says. “You need to change your bra.”
    “Why? There’s nothing wrong with this one.” I don’t exactly wear lingerie all the time, but I’m a fan of pretty bras and wear them as a matter of routine.
    “Get the see-through one,” Sam says. “What underwear are you wearing?”
    “Sam, if you say one more word I’m not going,” I say, leaving my closet.
     

     
    By the time we get to the party—the bass of the music is pounding through the entire house—I’ve given myself a stern talking to. I don’t have a relationship with Shane Brooks. I never will have a relationship with Shane Brooks. This is my senior year in college and I should be having some fun. Maybe a party and a hot guy is exactly what I need to snap myself out of this Professor-Brooks-induced funk.
    I’m even grateful Sam made me wear jewelry to add some “sexy” to my outfit.
    The guy Sam wanted me to meet is cute enough, she was right about that. He’s the kind of guy I would normally go for. But, an hour into the party I still can’t get myself worked up about him. Not even a little.
    I even try the whole flirty thing, really diving into my resolution to have fun and engage with people my own age like a normal person. Like someone who’s not hung up on her professor. But when the guy responds to my flirtations by putting his arm around my waist and leaning in close to say something in my ear—the volume of the music demanding it—I have to resist the urge to cringe away from him.
    At this point I know I need to put the brakes on the whole thing.
    It’s not his fault. He’s nice and charming and hot and completely fuckable and