Very Wicked Things (Briarwood Academy 2)

Did I mention he was hot?

Well, I was wrong.

He was off-the-charts, no-holds-barred, freaking going to make-me-lose-my-mind-right-there, delicious. And I had no idea how to handle him. Because I was way out of my league.

He ran a hand across the steel rod between his legs, and I bit back a moan.

“Still leaving?” he said huskily.

“Any minute,” I said, backing up against the wall, propping myself up. “Just chillin’. Shower wore me out. I might need to hold this wall up for a sec.”

“I want you to stay,” he said.

“Why?” I said, aching to touch him.

“Look at me, Dovey.”

I tore my eyes from his manhood, blushing.

His eyes burned. “There’s a sense of urgency in my head. Like our time is limited.”

I nodded. Yeah, same here.

“And, I’ll be honest, I don’t want to rush you, but I’m dying to sink into you. I want to set you on fire with need for me.” He ghosted his hands over his cock. Once, twice, and…he didn’t stop.

Oh, me.

“You can stay for a kiss,” he murmured.

“You’re all about the bargaining, aren’t you?”

“Kiss me again, Dovey.”

“That’s a terrible idea. Cause you’re naked, and I’m turned on because you’re naked. And you’re touching yourself. And again, you’re naked.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Not a good combo. Odds are we’ll end up in that shower together or back in your bed doing the double-backed monster.”

“Do you want to join me in the shower?” he said, his amber eyes searing me.

I shook my head. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Because we can. And we’ll just shower. If that’s all you want, of course?” His hands still kept up the routine he had going.

Stop, I wanted to say, but I didn’t really want him too.

“No,” I said, my voice weak.

“Want me to carry you to bed then?”

“That sounds super romantic, but no.”

He grinned. “I’m dying to put my hands on you right now. Anyway I can.”

“And do what?”

He laughed low. “Dovey, it won’t be to tuck you in. I think we both know that. Things are moving fast here.”

“What do you mean?”

He sent me a sly grin. “You want me to describe what I’ve dreamed about doing to you? That every day when you sit in front of me in class, I think about bending you over that desk. That every day when I see you in the hall, I want to pull you in an empty room and kiss you until you can’t breathe. But it’s more than just sex. It’s a need to be near you. Because you make me lighter, like everything’s going to be okay if we’re together. You make me horny and happy all at the same time.”

My hands dug into the wall. Not exactly poetry but it make me want to toss him down on the floor and fuck his brains out. And I was a freaking virgin!

I groaned. I really did need to get out of this bathroom.

“Kiss me again,” he said, this time with a little more bite to it. Sweet Cuba was long gone. Bad boy had taken up residence.

And like I was his marionette, I obeyed his command and went to him.

He met me half-way. “Why do I feel like you’re going to get scared and disappear?” he ground out, threading his fingers though my damp hair, clutching it until I felt a tinge of pain, but it was the best kind.

“Don’t run from me again,” he said and kissed me, starting hard and deep.

He spread kisses across my collarbone, up my neck, and to my face. His hands wrapped around my shoulders, his tongue traced the curves of my ear. And even though we’d kissed earlier, it felt like a hundred years ago. I swayed from the need, the desire, all of it making me loose-legged and disoriented.

“Tell me,” he whispered between kisses.

I arched my body, trying to get closer. “What?”

His mouth worked its way to my chest, his hands on my hipbones, pulling me tight against him. I was putty in his hands. “Tell me you feel this too. Tell me I’m not the only one who is dying from the want of you.”

Without answering, my kisses went wild, on his chest, grazing and then biting his nipples, then trailing down to his navel. He was the vast unknown, and I wanted to mark the territory as all mine. He encouraged me with sexy phrases about how much I turned him on, about the things he wanted to do to me. I told him to touch me too, and he did, his hands mapping my body, learning my curves, hooking his fingers in my panties.

I froze.

“Dovey,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “You’re not ready.”

He heaved a deep sigh, his hands falling away from my hips.

“It’s my inexperience, isn’t it?” I said. “You like those older girls better.”

He looked bewildered. “No. I love that about you. I just want your first time to be what you want and not what I want.”

Somehow he was nothing like what I’d thought.

He pressed a quick kiss to my mouth, the kind that cools things down. “But you don’t have to go. Stay with me.”

“Alright.”

He stepped into the shower and let his head fall back into the spray, the water glistening down his skin. His arousal never went down and I waited, oh I waited for him to take care of it, but he didn’t. I pleaded with my eyes for him to touch himself, to let me see how his face looked when he came, but he resisted. His eyes gleamed at me through the glass doors wickedly, and I got what he wanted me to realize, and it was titillating.