Beth
I deliberately sit away from him in ethics class. I see him the moment I walk in. He’s in the back against the wall, just like he was on that first day in stats. It feels like a lifetime ago. His eyes darken to deep brown as he watches me cross the classroom away from him. I feel provocative and aroused again. It’s going to be hell to pay attention to moral decision-making knowing he’s in the back of the class. I wonder if he’ll be as distracted as I am.
I take a seat near the front on the opposite edge of the room. I know he can see me, but I’ll be forced to pay attention because it would be too obvious if I turn around to ogle him in the crisp white shirt he is wearing today. It’s harder now because I know the feeling of his skin against mine, the hard body that can bring so much heat and pleasure with the faintest touch.
The professor comes in and hands out an unexpected quiz on ontologies. I write furiously, grateful for the distraction behind me. It only works for a moment and then I’m finished, listening to the sound of my classmates’ pens scratching on their papers.
I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder.
He lifts one brow in that way he does. Heat floods between my thighs again as I remember his mouth on me. Holy hell, I’m going to go up in flames. I shift in my seat again and face the front of the class.
I barely hear the lecture over the blood roaring through my veins. This is probably a good reason why I shouldn’t date. It’s hard as hell to pay attention when all the blood that’s supposed to be in my brain is turning my body into a raging hormone.
“If I call your name, I need to see you after class,” Professor Earl says.
That’s unusual. Someone must have been caught cheating again. Sadly, it’s an all too common a thing these days. Copying and pasting off the Internet simply isn’t a smart tactic for passing classes, but time and again, people attempt it and invariably get caught.
“Ms. Lamont. Mr. Warren.”
I catch Noah’s gaze across the room as Professor Earl calls three more names. He is as confused as I am.
I hate being put on the spot. My stomach pitches, and I lift my bag onto my shoulder. I’m almost sick in two minutes flat.
Professor Earl hands me a small envelope of heavy card stock. That’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t have ever noticed had Abby not pointed out the difference in paper thickness to me. Heavy card stock meant quality. It means money.
“Morgan Banking and Trust wants to hire a paid intern. This is an invitation-only black tie event. I strongly suggest you treat this event as a prospective interview.”
Leave it to Professor Earl to drop a bombshell like that in our laps and leave. He isn’t exactly Mr. Personality but then again I suppose that’s why he’s in academia. Academics are known for their neuroses. Another thing I didn’t know until Abby enlightened me.
My hands are shaking as I step into the hall. I feel, rather than see, Noah fall into step with me.
“Why don’t you seem happy about this?” he asks as we step outside.
It must have started raining while we were in class. I’m in a daze. I barely feel the cool water hitting my skin.
And then it stops.
Noah’s holding a large black umbrella. I can’t help but smile. “You’re always prepared, aren’t you?”
I’m aware of everything about him. The white shirt that has turned slightly transparent from the rain. The smell of his soap. My heartbeat centers in the space between my thighs. I’m aching for him once more. I want to let the world fall away, to ignore the flips my stomach is doing. I want to be wild for once.
“I try.” His voice is throaty and warm. Heavy.
I step into his space. I need the contact to convince myself that this is real. That he’s standing here in the rain with me. My fingers run over the hard line of his stomach.
“What are you doing?” His throat moves as he swallows hard. I lean in and press my lips to the spot where his pulse beats visibly beneath his skin. I’m vaguely aware that he’s lowered the umbrella, shielding us from the rain and the view of passersby.
“Living dangerously,” I whisper. “I would very much like to sneak off with you somewhere for a few minutes.”
His free arm comes around my waist and I lean into him. Until then, I haven’t realized how much I need the human contact. The touch of another body against mine. The feeling of his hand at the small of my back.
“You know this place better than I do.”
I smile at the raw need in his voice. My fingers spasm against his chest a little.
“We’re not going to get caught by the campus police or anything?” He sounds completely unworried.
“I hope not,” I say. “I’m not exactly in tune with the criminal element around here.” I run my fingers down the line of his throat. “But I’ve got an idea.”
It’s half-baked as ideas go. A place that I remember from freshman year: the basement of the old science building. Dark and silent, it was a place we’d been dared to run through as part of an initiation that the school didn’t officially know about or sanction.
But it is the only place I can think of that would be abandoned at this time of day. And I don’t want to wait.
Because I don’t know how long I have before life pulls me back in, away from Noah and the glorious reprieve I have with him. And I am determined to enjoy it for as long as I can.
Noah
She surprises me. Then again, everything about Beth is surprising to me. She leads me away from the business school and toward the science building, a structure that looks like something out of a dark gothic movie like The Crow. Stone gargoyles watch us from their perches as she slips us through a side door.
We’re in a wide open study area. Couches and chairs and a small coffee kiosk fill the space. It’s sparsely populated, but she leads me down behind a small auditorium to an old door with an Exit Only sign above it.
I’m tight with anticipation as I follow her down the narrow staircase and into the dark. My heart slams against my ribs and I remember how much I fucking hate stairs like this. I’m ready to bolt, to flee back into the light and out of the fatal funnel when she turns to me, sliding her body against mine.
Just like that, the panic morphs into a different kind of arousal. One where I’m hot and tight and tense, but it’s pleasure running through my veins instead of fear.
She’s fumbling with my pants. I hate that I’m wearing a belt in some vague attempt to pass as a respectable member of the business school. There’s one exit light penetrating the darkness. It’s shadows and sounds and the brush of fabric against skin.
I feel the cool kiss of air against my erection. Only for a moment and then her hand is circling me, squeezing gently. I close my eyes and let her do what she wants with me. I’m her slave. At that moment, I’d do anything she asked me to.
I want to drop to my knees and worship her. I want to turn her around and pin her to the wall. My thoughts are a tumbled erotic mess.
My brain short-circuits a little when she slides down my body.
“Holy shit.”
She’s on her knees in front of me. Her mouth is there, just there. She places a teasing kiss on my hip bone. She doesn’t notice the scar. Or maybe she does and simply doesn’t care. Her hand slips down my length again. I’m enthralled, watching her with the shadows and the light dancing over her face.
My breath locks in my throat. I fall forward, my arms braced on the cold cement to keep myself upright. She’s teasing me. Her eyes sparkle in the dim light.
Then it happens. The gentlest kiss against the tip of my cock.
I’m going to die. That’s all there is to it. Slowly, so slowly, she takes me into her mouth, sucking me hard enough that I damn near collapse. Light enough to leave me wanting more.
I’m frozen, rooted to the spot as she uses her mouth to drive me over the edge and into a place that is nothing but sensation and pleasure and darkness. I want to move, to thrust into her warm, moist mouth but I don’t. I’m terrified of hurting her. Of ending the most blindingly brilliant pleasure I’ve ever felt.
I’m ready to come. Fuck, I’m right there. I manage to grip her shoulders and pull her upright. I’m tearing at her pants, struggling to get them down over her hips.
My hands are shaking as I try to get the condom on.
She’s facing the concrete wall now, her arms over her head, her back arched. A silent, gorgeous offering. I touch her bare, swollen skin. She makes that sound for me as I stroke her where she’s soaked for me.
I want to go slow. To draw out the pleasure. But the minute I sink into her, she arches against me. Urging me deeper. Rocking against me and trying to set her own pace.
“Hurry.” A breathless command.
I’m lost in her. I reach between her thighs, stroking her. She’s so fucking tight and wet and hot. It’s a torment to pull out, only to find the sweetest pleasure again as I sink into her. Again. Over and over the pleasure builds.
And then she’s shattering around me. Pulsing and squeezing my body, riding my hand with quiet gasps. There are no other sounds between us. The sensual, erotic slide of bodies. The slick heat melting the air around us. She’s coming, and I’m losing my mind as I pump harder, harder.
Until my own release damn near kills me. I’m frozen, pulsing into her, losing a piece of my soul. Surrendering another piece of my heart.
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