by Sotia Lazu
“I mean, it’s okay if this is just what happened yesterday. It was great, and it was the first time that I… Well, it was great.” She lowered her gaze and spoke to his chest. “But if that was all, I’m okay with it. Not that I want more. Or that I don’t want it.” Her cheeks got more flushed by the second.
She was gorgeous when she was flustered.
She was always gorgeous.
He chuckled, and she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh,” she said. “I want a guy to be honest with me, for once. I want them—I want you—to tell me, Eliza, it’s been fun, but I don’t feel that wa—”
He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her to him.
She widened her eyes. “Don’t you dare kiss—”
He silenced her protests, smashing their mouths together, holding her to him until she gave in and clung to him. By the time he let go, she looked dazed.
“I told you, I want you,” he said. “Weren’t you listening? I want you for good. I want a relationship. Holding hands on our way to breakfast and cracking up over private jokes only the two of us share.” He took her hands in his. “You said you wanted something real. You and I can be real. Can you handle that?”
*
Could she? Could she take him on his word and be with him, after he’d insulted and ridiculed her for months? “What about Troy?”
“Not really my type.”
She arched an eyebrow.
Nate’s turn to avert his gaze. “I’m not hanging with him anymore. Should have stopped sooner. I’m sorry, Eliza. I swear I thought I was doing what was best. When I got him to leave you alone, I thought that was it. I’d bug you a while longer and then get off your case, but”—he gave her a pleading look—“you only talked to me when I pissed you off.”
So the guy who made her scream last night had the flirting skills of a four-year-old. She focused on something she didn’t know. “You got Troy to leave me alone?”
“I sent him an unsigned note. Said I knew he’d been doped in one of the games and I’d tell if he didn’t start treating you well. It was the game that got him his scholarship. He’d lose it all if anyone found out.”
It was too much to digest. She’d accepted that being a jerk was Nate’s twisted way of getting her mind off Troy and how he hurt her. But he’d also threatened Troy into being nice to her. It made her reevaluate everything.
“You… All this time.” She shook her head.
“Me. All this time. Can you handle it?”
She cupped his chin and hade him face her. “Can we take it slow?” She didn’t mean the sex; there was no taking that slow, after the revelation that was last night. “It’s just hard for me…” To open up to him, after everything.
He nodded. He understood.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Then…”
“Ah, come on.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m dying here.”
“I can handle it.”
Epilogue
Eliza looked at her watch.
Nine twenty-three.
If her boyfriend didn’t get his cute little ass to her dorm soon, they’d lose their reservation. Didn’t he know you’re not supposed to keep your girl waiting, when you’ve promised a classy night out?
She grinned. One month together. Who’d have thought it possible? Certainly not Troy. Her grin widened at the memory of his reaction when Nate walked her to class for the first time. Troy’s eyes had almost bulged out of their sockets.
He’d tried to cover it up—approached them, smirked at Nate, and said, “Nice work.” He even raised his hand for a high five.
Nate had ignored him.
Bill walked up to them at the cafeteria that same day. “Tall, dark, and broody said a miracle happened. Only he used different wording.” His smile was genuine when he patted Nate’s back. “Make sure you don’t mess this up, dumbass.”
Eliza had been exhilarated; she’d hate for Nate to lose all his friends because of her.
With the exception of Krista, Eliza’s friends had been shocked but supportive. If she was sure about her decision to be with Nate, they were happy for her, and that was all she needed to be content. With her boyfriend.
The knock made her jump. She grabbed her purse and rushed to the door. They’d make it to dinner, after all.
Or not.
Nate stood at her door, in dress pants and a tight black T-shirt that made him look edible. The yummy smell that reached Eliza’s nostrils wasn’t coming from him though, but from the Chinese food in the bags he held.
Eliza did a double take, unsure whether to be happy they wouldn’t have to stay away from bed for longer than necessary, or upset he didn’t ask if she wanted to eat in.
He grinned. “We can go out. After.”
She bet he didn’t mean after they ate.
Yup, she was happy.
She took the bags from him and all but threw them and her purse on Krista’s bed, which was closer to the door, before jumping in his arms.
God. She loved his lips. When he kissed her, she forgot everything else—forgot to take things further, sometimes, enjoying how he brushed his lower lip over hers, ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth. And his breath… It was weird that she, anti-smoker to the bone, loved smelling the scent of cigarettes on him and tasting it when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
Though he promised to quit, and she meant to hold him to it.
She loved his hands, too. Loved how big the palms were. How long the fingers. It felt amazing when he kneaded her buttocks—like he did now—and lifted her to the nearest available surface or pinned her to the wall.
And boy, could he pin her. He could clasp both her wrists in one hand or hold her thighs in place around his hips.
He stepped closer to her bed, kissing her neck.
“I thought we were eating.” Her protest was nowhere near sincere.
She loved his legs. Lean and muscular, with a sprinkle of golden hairs she loved rubbing her foot over as she came down from ecstasy.
She needed to see those legs. And his feet. And the magnificent curve of his ass that she always bit when she got out of bed first.
He placed her on the bed and lay next to her. With one more kiss, she ran her fingers down his sternum and hooked her index and middle finger in his waistband. “Are we eating?”
He bit his lower lip almost bashfully, and she couldn’t believe she left how much she loved his teeth out of her mental list. The right canine, which was a bit quirky, made his smile unique. She smiled back.
“I’m hungry for you,” he said. He tried to move down her body, but she stopped him.
“Take your shirt off.” She wanted to see his breastbone. Lick it, maybe. And his pecs. And his abs. “Actually…” She couldn’t wait. She rolled him on his back and tugged the hem of his shirt out of his pants. She had to have him naked under her. Now.
“What about the food?” He sat up, so she’d peel the Tee off his shoulders. “It’ll go cold.” He cupped her ass to bring her closer.
“Chinese can be eaten cold.” She flattened her palm to his chest and straddled him. “You ruined my appetite for food.”
Licking breastbone—check.
He moaned and grabbed her hips. Pressed her against his erection. “Good.” A finger found the right strap of her dress and lowered it, so he could kiss his way from her neck to her shoulder.
Eliza trailed her fingernails down his front, earning herself another moan. She loved to hear him moan. Loved the bunching of his abs and the little goose bumps that broke on his skin under her touch. She did it again.
He bucked his hips and tugged down her other strap, freeing her breasts. She loved how his eyes glazed over every time he saw them. He seemed unable to resist the view of her nipples. He pulled her down to close his lips around one of them, ghosting his fingers on the underside of her breast. The next moan was hers.
She gyrated her hips, rubbing against his length. He sneaked his hands under her dress.
“You’re not wearing panties.”
“Nope.” She loved the delighted shock on his face.
He found her clit with his thumb. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
“From the moment you walked in.” She withdrew from his touch and glided down the length of his body.
“Where are you going?”
Instead of answering, she undid his belt. Then his fly. He tried to sit up and help, but she shook her head and went on to take off his shoes. Once his feet were naked, she tugged on his trousers, and he assisted by lifting his ass off the mattress.
Eliza wasn’t the only one going commando.
Her tongue was about to loll, so she ordered it to wet her lower lip instead. She always had that reaction to his cock. Sometimes there was a little drooling involved, too.
She loved looking at his shaft and wrapping her fingers around his length. Loved stroking it. Tasting it. Having it inside her.
She couldn’t decide which of those things to do now.
He helped her make up her mind; he closed his long fingers around his length and stroked himself, and she felt powerless to do anything but watch his fist move up and down.
“Take off your dress.”
She did.
“Do you like watching?”
She nodded, absentmindedly caressing her stomach.
“I like watching, too.” He tilted his head to the side and pinned her with those green eyes of his.
She loved his eyes and the myriads of looks they were capable of. She saw his soul in those eyes. She cupped her breasts. Pushed them together. Pinched the nipples.
He shook his head. “Sit on me and do that.”
His knees were apart, keeping her legs spread when she straddled his thighs, her ass on the sheets. She felt so vulnerable. Then again, she always felt vulnerable with him; he had the power to break her.
She loved how he only used that power to make her happy.
Holding his gaze, she began caressing her pussy. Her movements were languid, matching his tempo.
“Show me how wet you are.”
She pushed two fingers inside and raised them for him to see.
He grabbed her wrist and brought her fingers to his mouth, to lick them clean. “Good girl. Now show me how you bring yourself off.”
One arm behind her to keep herself propped up, she circled her clit.
“That’s not how you do it.” He pumped himself faster. “That’s teasing.”
She began to protest, but he lifted her, and then the head of his cock was at her entrance. “Maybe you need some help,” he said with a leer.
Nodding again—what was wrong with her vocal cords?—she lowered herself around him, loving how he slowly filled her. Yes. This was what she loved the most about his cock—it was made for her. Perfect fit, stretching her just right.
They sighed in unison when he was seated inside her.
He directed her rhythm, his hands on her waist. “Now, show me.”
And she did. She planted her feet on the bed and rode him for all she was worth.
He kept talking to her. Telling her how he loved seeing her so wanton. How he craved nothing more than to be inside her. How hot it made him to see her play with herself while he pounded into her.
She loved how he loved her.
And maybe tonight, after they were sated and cuddling under the covers, she wouldn’t pretend to be asleep when he said those three little words—like every night since they became a couple.
Maybe tonight she’d say it back.
He dug his fingers in the flesh of her hips and took her harder. Faster. His gaze never left hers as he drove her to the precipice.
She was close.
Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer.
Yes, maybe tonight was the night.
The End
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Sofia, Kysira, Mari, and Lauriel, for all you’ve done for me and this story.
Thank you, Andrei, for reading and for loving me.
About the Author
Sotia loves romances with a twist and urban fantasy novels, always with vivid erotic elements. Her favorite characters to write are not conventional hero-material at first glance, and she enjoys making them fight for their happiness.
She shares her life and living quarters with her husband, their son, and two rescue dogs, one of which may be part-pony. Sappy movies make her bawl like a baby, and she wishes she could take in all the stray dogs in the world.
Also, she hates mornings.
