“I’m enjoying the show.”
I was huffing, my chest rising and collapsing at an increasingly fast pace. “Well, I’m glad one of us can pay attention to it! You’re driving me crazy!”
His grin was dark and sexy, the edge of his jaw becoming sharper. “No. I mean this show.” He pointed his chin to me, his eyebrows raising to show off his dark eyelashes.
I gulped. “Wha—what?” His finger was still toying over my ankle, rising up to my knee and back. Even through my pjs, the friction was causing goosebumps.
I wanted more.
“I’m enjoying the show you’re putting on, Madeline.”
“What show?” I was panting, and it was so embarrassing, but I couldn’t make myself get up and leave. I didn’t want to. His touch made the room sway and rock in the most delicious of ways.
More.
I felt myself scooting down farther, my legs enveloping his. My face was hot. It was like slipping into a hot tub, feeling the warmth of the water flush my skin.
“You enjoying my touch.” He licked his bottom lip, his tongue darting out quickly before disappearing. I pouted when he pulled it back into his mouth. “You squirming…unable to stay still because the chemistry between us is at an all-time high.” He turned away, his finger creeping higher. “Thanks to last night.”
“Why are you doing this? Is it part of the plan to ruin me? Destroy me like I destroyed you?”
He smirked. “You didn’t destroy me. You only made me mad. You made me hate you.” His hand stopped moving, and my hopes came crashing down.
No. Please don’t stop.
I shivered.
“But…” My eyes widened as his eyes tore through me like an unstoppable tornado. “I don’t think I hate you anymore.”
I felt brave with his eyes on me. I felt the girl buried inside sparking to life with his hopeful words. I knew, outside of this house and back in our normal reality of our fucked-up, high-school-deemed hierarchy, we were nothing. I was the school leper. His friends loathed me, and even the teachers wanted to watch me crash and burn. I was damaged beyond reach, shoving away the trauma only for it to haunt me in my sleep. But here? Tucked away inside thick walls, all alone with nothing but worthless words separating us? I didn’t care if I was worse off afterwards. I didn’t care if I had the bitter taste of love left behind when we went our separate ways.
I wanted the boy next door, even if he did hate me in the end.
The leg his hand was burning opened farther, dropping to the side like a sacrificed invitation. “Hate or not…” I reached for his hand, crept it up past my knee
, and placed it at the waistband of my pants. “I’d still beg you to touch me.”
Eric’s eyes were hooded, his nostrils flared. My middle was throbbing, my nipples hardening with the single thought of our bodies colliding.
All I could think about as Eric peered down at me with his soul-sucking eyes and kissable mouth was, mine, mine, mine.
He was the furthest thing from mine, but right now, I could pretend.
His hands grasped my hips, and he pulled me down even further onto the couch. My head hit the cushion softly as he ripped my thin shirt up and over my head. I arched my back when his warm breath hit my chest, right in between the lace of my bra. He inhaled like he couldn’t get enough. “Same thing applies,” he whispered. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” Then, he whipped himself forward and sealed a kiss on my mouth. His tongue swept in, swirling around with an urgency that we both felt. I spread my legs wide, pushing up on his hardness, wanting to rock away the ache that had only intensified.
“So fucking hot,” he mumbled against my lips, biting and pulling, making me whimper with need.
I was so incredibly desperate; it was downright mortifying how obsessed I was with his touch. It was wild. This was wild. Eric and I were completely unstoppable.
When he took his mouth off mine, inhaling a lungful of oxygen, he ripped his own shirt off and threw it across the room. The lights on the TV danced along his rippling muscles, his chest bare of any flaws, only mounds and valleys of toned bulges, begging to be licked. He pulled himself back down, trailing his nose over the curve of my heavy breasts, both spilling out of my bra. When I felt the slickness of his tongue lick a line from my chest down past my belly button, I almost passed out.
“Eric, don’t make me beg for it.”
I felt him smile along my skin. “Begging sounds nice. Tell me how bad you want it, baby.”
No, he did not just ask me to beg.
My hips jerked upward, and his hands grabbed them, pushing me down from rubbing myself on him. I traveled my fingers over my bra, needing some type of stimulation to keep me from crying out, but then his fingers found mine, and he intertwined them.