“No.” Even though I’m embarrassed, I find myself unable to lie. If there’s anyone who should know the truth, it’s him. How could I possibly let another guy touch me when he’s the only one I’ve ever thought or dreamed about?
Possessiveness flares to life in his eyes as he pulls the elastic band down an inch or two before lowering his face to my bared flesh and brushing his lips against me. He’s so close to the part of me that pulses with a life of its own, it’s almost painful.
The way his hot breath drifts over me is sheer torture, and I can’t help but twist in order to get closer. He tugs at the fabric until it slips further down my hips, revealing the very top of my slit. The air gets sucked from my lungs as his tongue darts out. A whimper escapes as sensation explodes inside my body, ricocheting through every cell.
His heated gaze stays locked on mine as he repeats the maneuver, only slower this time. He draws out the pleasure until it becomes almost too much to bear. Until I want to tear at my hair and scream with the need that spirals through my entire being.
With his thumbs, he spreads my lips until my clit is fully exposed. His elbows sink into my thighs, trapping them as he focuses his attention, lapping at the tiny bundle of nerves. The way his tongue scrapes over me sends a million shockwaves cascading through my system. My back arches off the mattress as my muscles tighten.
It’s almost as if he can sense just how close I am from leaping off the precipice and into oblivion. His movements turn demanding as his thumbs hold me captive, exposing the most delicate part of me as he keeps up the torment. The intensity vibrating throughout my body is almost painful. There’s too much sensation rampaging through my veins, lighting me up from the inside out. Any moment, I’m going to come undone at the seams.
“You taste so damn sweet,” he growls.
That little nudge is all it takes to send me tumbling through the stratosphere. The sensation blows apart everything I thought I knew. All the times I’ve touched myself while thinking about Carson. And while that was satisfying and did the job nicely, it never felt anything like this.
Not even close.
When I subconsciously lift my hips, he presses them back into the mattress, keeping me tethered to the Earth. My clit throbs an insistent beat as I continue to convulse. He laps at my softness until every last shudder has been expertly wrung from my body and I melt bonelessly into the mattress. I have no idea how much time passes as my heartbeat echoes in my ears. It takes effort to crack open my eyelids as I stare sightlessly at the ceiling. Carson’s heated breath ghosts over me before disappearing. With deft fingers, he tugs my panties into place before yanking up my zipper and refastening the skirt.
The abrupt movement shatters the bliss filling me.
A soft string of obscenities falls from his lips as he wrenches himself away from the bed and rises to his feet. The loss of his body heat leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My gaze shifts, only to find him staring down at me. Even in the darkness, I’m able to see the wild tangle of emotions that floods his features.
My tongue slips out, moistening my swollen lips. I open my mouth, wanting to say something that will banish the guilt and anger that have transformed his expression, but nothing escapes.
Without another word, he swings away, stalking to the door. When his feet stutter to a stop and he pauses, everything inside me lifts. All I want to do is smooth over the heavy emotion that claws at him. Instead, he grabs hold of the handle and rips it open before disappearing into the common area. The tension gripping me slowly ebbs from my body as the suite door closes with a resounding thud.
I suck in a lungful of air, wondering if the last thirty minutes really happened or if it was just a figment of my overactive imagination.
But I know it did. There’s too much adrenaline pumping wildly through my system, filling me with a strange restlessness.
What I don’t know is if it will change anything between us.
Chapter Twenty
Elle
A gust of chilly wind follows me as I push through the heavy glass doors and step inside the toasty warmth of the union. I pause, gaze coasting over the sea of students and faculty that have gathered to grab a quick meal in search of my mother’s dark head. Twice a month, she drives to Western, and we make plans to catch up. Sometimes we meet at a local restaurant that isn’t far from campus. With the play opening in a few short days, I don’t have enough time in my schedule for that.