Sudden panic grips me. The money’s running out—between food and bills, and damn what about the money I owe the landlord—and I still don’t have a goddamn job.
“Not sure,” she says, and I nod, turning away and rubbing a hand over my chest.
“It’s okay. Forget it.” I’m not gonna push her if she’s so uncomfortable and hey, it’s not like I’m good company anyway—torn between angsting about tomorrow and lusting after her. “Fuck.”
Can’t breathe. I grab the hem of the T-shirt and pull it over my head as I limp toward my bedroom. I throw it to the floor and sit down on the bed, trying to get some air back into my lungs.
What the fuck’s happening to me? Haven’t had this in a while.
“Seth?” I start when she enters my room. Didn’t hear her. She’s kicked off her shoes, and her feet whisper on the thin carpet as she approaches the bed. “Hey.”
She’s wearing a low-cut white blouse and a flared black-and-white skirt that leaves her pretty legs bare. I gaze at her, waiting for my lungs to start doing their thing again, allowing me to breathe.
“Something’s wrong,” she says, not asking, and comes to sit beside me. She places her hand over mine. Over my heart. “Tell me what it is.”
Shit. Can’t. I shake my head.
“Is it your mom? Did she call you?”
Goddammit, I forgot about her for a while there. I groan between my teeth.
Seconds tick by in silence.
“You were right, you know,” she says at last. At my uncomprehending look, she leans closer, putting her other arm around my back. “That everything would be okay. I made up my mind about my studies, and somehow I’m not as sad as I thought I’d be. In fact I feel… free.”
She’s looking up at me, her eyes bright, and the knot in my chest eases a little.
“That’s good,” I manage.
“I’ll transfer to the sports department, and later I hope to become a physical therapist. How does that sound?”
I smile. “Sounds awesome. Anything you decide to do would be awesome. You’ll do great.”
She smiles back. “You’re a really nice guy, Seth.”
Yeah. Only “nice” isn’t what I want to be with her. I want more. What I want is to kiss her, fuck her, brand her. Hold her. Make her mine.
What a clusterfuck.
“You should go back to the street party,” I say, trying to be gentle but sounding gruff and winded. “Celebrate.”
“Only if you go with me.”
I huff, press the heel of my palm into my chest. “Some other time.”
She lets go of me and gets up, leaving me cold. I think she’s about to say goodbye, but instead she says, “I’ll make you some tea, warm you up.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Oh.” She looks unsure for a second.
My breathing is easing, at long last, and I prop my hands behind me on the mattress and lean back. “Manon.”
She’s staring at my chest, I realize, her eyes lost in shadow. Chicks generally seem to dig my ink. But a ballet dancer, a rich girl like her, maybe not. Can’t remember if she seemed repulsed last time, too lost in tasting her mouth and touching her to notice.
Only one way to find out.
“Come here,” I say, and she wavers briefly before giving in and coming back to me. I take her hand and press it to my chest, skin to inked skin.
Her pupils flare, black swallowing green. Her lips part and she draws a shallow breath.
Well, well. She may not want to go out with me, but her body wants me. That much is clear.
“Your boyfriend still hasn’t fucked you?” I ask under my breath, rude of purpose. Pushing her. Searching for a reaction, a glimpse of the truth. “Still hasn’t kissed you?”
She jerks, but doesn’t pull her hand away. The crimson blush rising over her neck and face tells me all I need to know.
That bastard.
But I’m so glad I could whoop for joy. Stupid, I know. He’s the one she wants, and that’s all that matters, but he still hasn’t claimed her.
“Are you two really together? Is he really your boyfriend?”
She shrugs. “He asked me out. But not officially, no.”
I turn my face to the side to hide my smirk.
Don’t, Seffers. Just fucking don’t.
“So you’re back for more lessons?”
Yeah, don’t listen. Suit yourself. Dive headfirst into this shit and see if you can swim before you hit the bottom.
“Lessons,” she whispers, and the satiny sound goes straight to my already hardening cock.
“Yeah, that’s right. In fact, I think it’s test time. See if you learned what I taught you.”
She’ll flake. She’ll run. I just know it. Maybe that’s why I’m pushing her. To make her go and not come back. Save us both.
White teeth sink into that soft lower lip, and I swallow a whimper. Fuck, I’m so hard it hurts.
Then she lifts her skirt and straddles my legs, looping her arms around my neck, and she’s kissing me.
I’m sinking. The feel of her weight in my lap, her arms pulling me to her, her legs braced at my sides, her pussy pressed to my hard-on—her soft, hot lips on mine. I’m gone. I grab her waist, deepen the kiss, and to hell with it. She gasps, and I fuck her mouth with my tongue, my cock giving desperate little jerks inside my sweats, trying to drive through two layers of cloth to get to her.
Oh fuck. Heaven.
She breaks away all too soon, and it takes all my willpower not to throw her down on the bed and bury myself in her so deep, deeper than anyone before.
“Good enough?” she pants, and it takes me a few heartbeats to understand her question.
“Could use some more practice.” I lick my lips, tasting her, and it only makes me want her more. “And there’s more I could show you.”
She gets up, moves back. “Is there?”
“Yeah. Lots.” Can’t help how husky my voice is. My cock is trapped at an awkward angle in my briefs, and I reach inside to straighten it. I sigh in relief once it’s done, and when I glance back up, I find her gaze on my crotch.
“You’re…” She waves a hand at me, turns her gaze away. “Excited.”
I blink.
“Shit, yeah, I’m excited. A pretty girl kissing me, sitting on my lap… How couldn’t I be?”
“So it’s automatic? Any girl kissing you and sitting on your lap would produce…” That wave of the hand again. “These results.”
Results. Holy shit, she’s something.
Okay, it’s not exactly a question, but I reply anyway. “Not any girl. As a matter of fact, I don’t kiss girls I don’t find pretty. And I haven’t seen any as pretty as you.”
A beat of silence greets my words.
“You’re kidding me,” she whispers.
“I’m not.”
See, I can’t lie to her. And the whole problem with this potentially sticky situation—sticky in every way—is that she’s playing a game, and I’m dead serious.
“I want to know more,” she whispers.
“Then I’ll show you.”
She wants to test the waters with me. Run some tests with me. Fool around. I’ll take it. If that’s all I can have with her, I’ll damn well take it and shut up.
Because it’s something, and I have nothing. I want her, and I’ll take whatever she gives me. I’ll be fine. It’s just lust. It will blow over. In fact, this is perfect. I’ll get exactly what I want.
Except I want more, and for the first time ever, I can’t just roll over and let life kick me in the nuts.
And I know it’s not her who’s about to get hurt.
It’s little old me.
***
“Come, sit here.” I pat the mattress beside me. “Get comfortable.”
She holds back. “We can’t have sex.”
Because she wants this asshole, Fred, to be the one. Fuck him. “Got it. No sex. Just gonna show you a few things.”
She sits down, then lifts her feet up and curls her legs under her. Like a cat. Like a dancer.
So sexy. And the things I wanna do to her… Shit. Gotta restrain myself.
Her gaze keeps returning to the bulge in my pants, and my cock twitches in response.