After the insanity of the week, finding a time to see Heaven and get my homework done seemed like a constant struggle. Every encounter with her was too brief. Our lives were all chaotic and with the addition of this Noah kid, he would only take up more time.
That was why, when Heaven said she had to do laundry, I took the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. I packed up my art supplies and headed over to Stetson Hall.
The girls’ dorm was a world apart from athletic housing. It smelled like perfume and shampoo instead of feet and old cheese.
“Can you direct me to the laundry room?” I asked a tiny girl with glasses. She pointed to a door down the hall. Her eyes were wide at my sheer size.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Sure,” she squeaked.
I pushed open the basement door and jogged down the stairs, stopping when I caught sight of my girl, bending over the washing machine.
Have mercy.
I watched her for a moment, eyeing her ass in a form-fitting pair of gray and black leggings. They fit tight over every inch of her hips and thighs, leaving zero question about the thong panties she wore underneath. She wore a red tank, with cut-outs and ties at the shoulders. Her hair was bound in a knot behind her head. She was damn sexy and I thought about her all the time. All. The. Fucking. Time. Not a day went by that I didn’t kick my own ass for giving up the chance to make love to her in my room that night. A night I sorely regret. I’d only pissed her off and cockblocked myself, but even now I knew that wasn’t the right time or place. We were still percolating. Building this relationship slowly.
The tightening in my jeans told me our dance was running out, though. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out. Not when she wanted it so badly, too.
“Hey,” I said, taking the last few steps and walking across the room. We were alone and I didn’t hesitate before closing the gap and pushing a hand into her silky hair.
“Hi.”
I leaned over and kissed her softly—twice—taking my time. She sucked on my bottom lip, encouraging me, and I kissed her again, this time little harder. She pressed her hands into my chest, surely able to feel my hammering heart.
“Don’t you have a drawing to get started on?” she asked in a breathy tone.
I licked my lips, tasting her. “Look at you, cracking the whip.”
Her eyes carried a devilish glint and she ran her fingers through the shaggy hair hanging in my eyes and skimmed my jaw. “Get to work and maybe I’ll reward you later.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I moved to the table used for folding clothes and opened my kit, spreading my pencils, erasers, and charcoal in an orderly row. I took out a large sketchbook and laid it on the table, flipping to a fresh, blank sheet.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
On this fucking table, I almost said. On the floor. Bent over the washer—Jesus. I cut the internal monologue. “Do you mind standing?”
“No, I can do that, although I can’t guarantee it won’t be awkward.”
I laughed, because her awkwardness was what made her so endearing. She was small but full of a graceful passion. When I was around her I felt like a brute. Too big and powerful. Massive in a way the other guys weren’t. All muscle where they were mostly lean. I needed the hard-packed bulk to dominate the soccer goal. But with her it just made me nervous. What if I hurt her? I was used to fending off six-foot forwards, not hundred-pound sexy girls I could crush with my hands.
I made her nervous, I always had. My presence was what kept me at a higher station from the rest of the school, from the members of my team. But Heaven? She knocked me to my knees.
“I’d like to do a full body pose,” I said. “Here.” I grabbed her shoulders and shuffled us over to the old, mustard yellow washing machine. “Like this, I think.”
“You want me cleaning? You may be more like my father than I knew.”
“Trust me, sweetheart,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not your daddy.”
I pushed her against the machine, manipulating her hands so they were flat on the top and then shifted her shoulders so they were slightly to the side. “Lift your chin.”
She followed direction, catching my eyes. I used my finger to tilt her to the left then right, until Heaven was ultimately looking slightly over her shoulder. I reached for her hair, unraveling it and combing it into a long sheet down her back. “Tell me if you get tired.”
“I will,” she said. I couldn’t help but stop and stare at her. “What? Do I need to move?”
“Nope. I’m just thinking about how fucking beautiful you are.”