Like ever.
He shifts his weight so he’s hovering over me, his elbows digging into the cushions on either side of my head. When he settles between my thighs, I reflexively wrap my legs around his waist.
“Why, Ms. Morales,” he laughs into my hair. “I do believe you want to be fucked again.”
“Oh, I . . . I just . . .”
“Let’s go back to your place.” His breath is warm against my face. He kisses the sensitive spot behind my ear. “There’s no way we’re doing it again on this couch. The next time it’ll be in a bed.”
His hands roam over my thighs clenched around him, and he grips my butt, locking us tighter.
My wide, fleshy butt. God, he casts some kind of sensual spell on me. With every kiss and touch, he makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world long enough to forget the rolls and dimples Byron made sure to tell his friends about. Maybe somehow I’m the one who cast a spell on Jared, and as soon as the lights come on, that spell will break.
“Maybe I should go.” I drop my legs and push lightly against his chest.
“Okay, we can do it again on the couch, if that’s what you want,” he says quickly. “Just stay.”
“Jared,” I giggle and shake my head.
“At least promise I’ll see you tomorrow. We don’t have much time before you leave for New York.”
“Why is that so significant to you?” I ask, frowning even though he can’t see my face. “I mean, I admit that was . . . the sex was amazing, but this is all kind of sudden.”
“Not to me.” He clears his throat and brushes my hair back, cupping the back of my head. “I’ve been wanting this all semester, Ban.”
I snort, unable to keep my earlier disbelief completely at bay.
“You honestly expect me to believe you’ve been dating Cindy all year, who I’m pretty sure is Miss Iowa, and you’ve been secretly longing to be with me?”
“Miss Idaho,” he corrects. “But, yeah, pretty much.”
He runs a hand over my leg and wraps me around him again. Now all I can think of is how thick my thighs are. How my stomach probably feels all soft and squishy under that sheet of muscled abs. Self-consciousness rushes back in, and I shove a little harder, dislodging him enough to slide off the couch.
“Like I said, I need to go.” I feel around on the floor, searching for my sweatshirt. I’m determined to at least put that on before I turn on the lights. The sex was off the charts. Cloaked in darkness, I fooled myself that I was a sensual creature who was Jared’s match. A small voice inside protests it wasn’t the dark that made me feel beautiful. It was Jared.
What does that voice know?
I’ve found my sweatshirt and am about to put it on when the door bangs open and the lights come on.
In my shock, I don’t move for a second, and I’m standing completely naked in front of not only Jared, who has the wide-angle view of my ass from behind, but William Prescott, Benton Carter, and several other guys I don’t know but vaguely recognize from campus. All their eyes crawl over the roll around my middle, the dimples in my thighs, the tiny tufts under my arms because I skip shaves in winter, and the dark triangle of hair I keep neatly trimmed between my legs.
“Oh my God.” I squint against the sudden brightness of light after being in the dark for so long and instinctively fold my arms across my breasts.
“What the hell!” Jared yells from behind me.
His voice galvanizes me, and I grab the panties tangled up with my tennis shoes and fumble to get the sweatshirt on. I can’t find the holes for the arms, though, and it’s turned inside out. I’m turned inside out. My thoughts are so scrambled I can’t even run for cover. My hands are shaking too badly to execute even this basic motor function.
Jared takes the sweatshirt from my trembling fingers and jerks it over my head, pushing my arms through. He turns me so his broad shoulders block out
the rest of the room, a brick wall between me and all those greedy, curious eyes. He presses his forehead to mine, his fingers gripping the nape of my neck through layers of hair. I look at him for the first time since he turned off the lights. I’ve never seen this look on his face. Desperate, almost afraid.
“Ban,” he says urgently, still clutching my neck. “You have to let me explain.”
“Explain what?” I ask, confounded by him, by them, by tonight. I’m on another planet, floating because the Law of Gravity doesn’t apply here.
“You actually did it,” Prescott says.
I peer around Jared to meet the mocking malice of William Prescott. Why is he here? How are they here?