by H. M. Ward
“Kiss me, baby.” I moan the words and drag my nipples across his stubbled jaw. Before I get far, he reacts. His lips part and he takes me in his mouth, sucking my breast and flicking my nipple with his tongue. Oh, God, it feels good! Matt didn’t do it like this. He’d either slobber on me or gnaw my nipple off.
But Mystery Man doesn’t do that. He’s slow and teasing, alternating between licking and sucking, teasing my nipple between his lips. His teeth graze my breast, making me speak words I normally couldn’t say. I feel his smile as he pulls away and switches to the other side. Firm hands travel over my body, holding me against his mouth. As if I’d pull away? That’ll never happen. I’m losing myself in him. Thoughts of Matt are scattering and I can’t resist the longing between my thighs much longer.
As he kisses me, I reach down, undo the button on his jeans and lower the zipper. I want to free his hard length from the fabric. This man makes me feel like a goddess. His kisses are worthy of praise and his touch is so sensual. Lust fills my mind as I think about riding him and feeling him inside of me. He nips my nipple before pulling away. I move aside as he tugs at his jeans like he can’t get them off fast enough.
He tosses the jeans to the floor and stands beside the bed, wearing just his boxers. He grins a wicked smile and motions toward me with his hand. “Ladies first.” He tugs at his own waistband and I understand what he means. “I want to see you naked, spread out on the bed, begging me to fuck you.”
The pit of my stomach drops when he talks like that and I’m surprised that I like it. Nervous anticipation floods through my body, but I do as he says. Shimmying out of my panties, I toss them aside and lie back on the bed and let him look.
Those blue eyes are so dark and sexy. His lips part the slightest amount as his eyes drift below my waist, taking in the smooth skin between my legs. He grins, like I’m some sort of siren because I had a Brazilian. “You are so sexy. I can’t wait to have you.”
“Then take me.” I never say things like that, but I can’t help it. He makes me feel good and I can’t wait to come in his arms. It will cut Matt off, ending that part of my life.
Hot Guy loses his boxers and comes back to the bed. His body is beyond words and, when I see how much he wants me, the size of him, I tremble and grip the sheets. He crawls toward me, and kisses me, starting at my toes. He works his way up my legs, kissing the V once, before continuing up toward my mouth. He straddles me, pinning my thighs together, rubbing against me as he showers me with little kisses that drive me wild. I can’t take it. I need him.
Clawing his back, I arch into him, and he dips his head to my breast, sucking and teasing me, taking me higher and higher. I’m losing it. I can’t hold onto my mind and my thoughts drift away. I don’t realize I’m talking until I hear my voice begging him to take me. “Please, baby, please.” I tell him how much I want him inside me and so many other things I’ve never said to anyone.
His kisses drift to my neck, which makes my flow of words increase. By the time he finally lets me splay my legs, I’m ready for him. I think he’s going to push into me, but he drops to my chest, breathing hard and starts to kiss my stomach. Each kiss drops lower and lower, heading for the spot between my legs. I can barely hold myself together as I anticipate his mouth down there.
But then, everything shatters. The phone rings and he freezes. The noise is jarring, and another guy might have thrown the thing on the floor, but he doesn’t.
Mystery Man pulls away from me and sits up. He reaches for the receiver and answers the phone. “Yes?” His voice is casual, like he wasn’t doing anything important.
I’m horrified. What the hell? He doesn’t look back at me or apologize. I roll to my side and pull the sheet up around me. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he’s not blowing me off. Hot Guy dips his head and releases a long slow breath as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I see. Thank you for calling.” He hangs up and sits there, still for a second. I watch his back expand as he breathes, but he doesn’t look at me.
Without explanation, he stands, and pulls on his clothes. “I need to go. Please, call a cab.” He pulls out his wallet and drops a fifty on the dresser, then turns on his heel. He’s through the door before I have a chance to answer.
CHAPTER 5
“So, how was he?” Beth has a stack of pancakes covered in syrup. She’s intently decorating them with Fruit Loops, one at a time, as if it were a Christmas tree.
I didn’t tell her last night. It was too embarrassing. I stumbled into my bed and fell asleep. It’s seven in the morning and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, physically and emotionally, because getting rejected by the rebound guy was the most god-awful thing that could have happened.
“Great,” I answer, not offering more details. He was great—right up until he ran back to his girlfriend or whoever called and busted us up. Maybe he’s a loser and I should be glad we didn’t do it, but the thought doesn’t help. Not knowing why he ran off makes me think I did something wrong. It doesn’t make sense, not with the phone call. Who answers the phone during sex anyway? I want to slam my head into the table, but I don’t. I smile at Beth and shove a spoonful of eggs into my mouth.
“Great sounds like an understatement. That guy was your dream man.” She starts shoving her sugary breakfast into her mouth. We’re sitting in the middle of the cafeteria with the rest of the people who eat breakfast. There’s hardly anyone here.
“Yeah, he was.” She gives me a look that says she knows something is up. My shoulders slump as I lean my head on my hand and sigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you the truth. He ditched me.”
Beth spews the forkful of food. “He did what?” She looks as shocked as I felt. Her big blue eyes are dinner plates.
I poke at my eggs. “We were about to, you know, and then the phone rang. He answered it, tossed me money for a cab, and left.”
Beth clutches the table, as if she’s planning on tossing it into the wall. “Oh, my God! What a jackass. Are you okay? You know it wasn’t you, right? What kind of asshole answers the phone during sex?” Beth looks indignant. She releases her death grip on Mr. Table and waves at someone behind me without altering her mood or hiding her disgust. A second later a clone of Josh is sitting next to me. “Hey, Jace, complete this sentence: A guy who answers the phone during sex is…”
Jace laughs, and says, “Not into it.” Beth kicks him under the table. “Hey! Keep your pointy witch shoes to yourself,” he yelps.
Beth looks horrified and says to me. “That is not what it means! Kerry was with a guy last night and he knew it was a one-nighter, strictly rebound sex. But, while they were doing it, he answered the phone and left.”
“Don’t tell your brother that! God, Beth.” I bury my face in my hands to hide my horror.
Jace looks me over. I feel his eyes slip up and down my body, before he answers. “So, a one-nighter, with her,” he jabs his thumb my way, “and this guy answers the phone and leaves?”
“Yeah. Asshole, right?” Beth asks.
Jace talks to the side of my face, because I don’t take my hands down. “You want the truth or the sugar coated version?”
I look over at him. “The truth, please. It can’t be worse than what I already think.”
He nods. “When did he leave? Like, what were you doing?”
My cheeks burn as my eyes drop to the table. “Yeah, he was doing me. Or about to…” Holy frack, this is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had. I want to crawl under the table and die.
“Like things were all hot and heavy, he’s about to nail you, but he answers the phone instead?” His dark brows inch together. I nod and then Jace’s hand lands gently on my shoulder. “That guy wasn’t worth your time.”
“I said no sugar coating, Jace. Just tell me.”
His hand falls down to the table before he leans in closer and says in a low voice, “He was using you to kill time. Maybe a cheater, maybe not. Either way, that phone call was more important than you were or he wouldn’t have l
eft.”
“Jace!” Beth throws syrup-covered cereal at her brother. “I wanted you to make her feel better, not worse!”
He swats them away, but one manages to stick to his shirt. He plucks it from the fabric and pops it in his mouth. “The truth hurts, little sister. It’s better that she learns it now. If you see that guy again, don’t waste your time on him.” Jace gives me a sympathetic look and leaves our table.
CHAPTER 6
The rest of the day passes with no embarrassing incidents. I even manage to be in the art building without bumping into the bathroom guy. I was worried he went to school here, but he’s not around. Maybe it was a fluke. Thank God.
I choose a stool toward the back of my figure drawing class. A sloppily dressed guy wearing clothing three times his actual size takes the seat next to me. His jet-black hair hangs down, obscuring his face. He sighs, like he wishes he were somewhere else, then glances over at me. “Hey, I’m Carter.”
“Kerry. Are you an art major?” I haven’t seen him before, but then again I don’t have many upper level classes. When the department chair reviewed my portfolio, he let me skip ahead into a few advanced classes.
He smirks. “You’re a freshman. How’d you get in here? This is a junior level class.”
I shrug. “They thought I could handle it.”
He points at my sketchbook and says, “May I?”
It’s personal and I don’t show it to people, but I have a feeling that I’m going to be stuck next to this guy all semester and if he doesn’t think I should be here, well, things won’t go very well. I hand it over and stare straight ahead. I don’t suck. A New York City art school, one of the best in the world, offered me a full ride—all fees paid—if I enrolled there. So sitting in Drawing III isn’t really anything major.
Carter flips through slowly, his dark eyes scanning my work. The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s trying not to smile. He hands it back to me. “Not bad, freshman.”
“Well?” I say and reach out my hand.
“Well, what?”
“Nice try, Carter, but you know how this works. I only show you mine if you show me yours. Flash me. Dazzle me with your—” as I’m talking, he rolls his eyes and forks over the sketch book. When I flip it open, I can’t speak. My jaw drops when I see what he’s drawn. I forget that he’s watching me out of the corner of his eye for a second and just stare. My fingers are drawn like magnets to the page. It’s a drawing of him—Mystery Man.
I want to slip my fingers over his face and feel the life-like stubble under my fingertips. The drawing captures his somber mood perfectly. There’s a lostness in his eyes that’s impossible to hide. I saw it the other day when I slammed into him in the bathroom and then again at the hotel room. My heart flutters and I can’t hide the emotions that are coursing through my body. But embarrassment still lingers, fresh in my mind. Who walks out in the middle of sex?
I flip the page and study detailed drawings of old benches with splintering wood beams, broken fences, and page after page of beautifully captured destruction and deterioration. Carter breathes life into his drawings. They don’t just look like things. They look like they live and breathe. They look like they could jump off the page. Though the inanimate objects look as if they live and breathe, the only drawing of an actual living, breathing person in the entire sketchbook is that first one. For a split second I worry that he’s a friend of Bathroom Boy, or worse—that they’re roommates.
I force a smile that I hope looks normal. To me, it feels like a robot is pulling on my cheeks, forcing my lips to curve. “Impressive,” I say as I hand the pad back to him.
Carter lifts a dark brow at me. “Some people say that about him. You seem a little infatuated there, Kerry.”
“I am not.” Oh shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I glance at Carter, but he just laughs.
“It’s okay. A lot of people act like that, all star-struck and shit. It’s hysterical.”
A deep throaty nah-ah laugh comes from somewhere inside my chest. “I am not some lovesick idiot. I thought it was an amazing drawing, that’s all. You’ve got mad skills. Learn to take a compliment, Carter.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and tuck my hair behind my ear.
Carter grins at me, folding his arms over his chest and slumps back in his seat. “Yeah, that explains it.”
Before I have a chance to reply, the professor walks in. Since I missed the first day, I have no idea what we’re doing. An awful sinking feeling creeps up my throat. I feel like I’m going to vomit until Carter hands me his syllabus. I mouth thank you, and look it over.
The teacher is an old guy that looks an awful lot like the sculpture professor. Maybe they’re brothers or something. He has snowy hair and a neatly trimmed white beard that covers his face. When he speaks, his bright green eyes sparkle like he’s still a young man.
“The critique process that you’ve done with other professors is moot. In this class, you will study the drawing, say one thing that you like and say one thing that would make it better. That’s it. We’ll start at this end of the room and work our way around to, uh…” he glances at the seating chart, and then back up at me, “to Carter and, I’m sorry, but who are you? You’re not listed here.”
Every set of eyes turns my way. I hate it when that happens. Swallowing hard, I say, “I’m Kerry Hill. I missed the first class. I’m probably not on your seating chart yet.”
The old man suddenly hates me. He cocks his head to the side and glances around the room. After a moment, he spreads his arms as he walks toward me, saying, “There is one thing I will not tolerate in my classroom and that is students who are not serious about being here. Miss Hill, please gather your things and leave.”
What the hell? The man looks like Santa Claus, but he’s Satan. I glance at Carter, but the ass turns away with a smile on his face. “I am serious about this class, sir.”
“Then prove it, Miss Hill.”
The other students won’t look at me now. I’m a freaking pariah. Why is he doing this to me? I’m a serious artist, but this has happened before. The other people see my young face and try to throw me out. Screw that. I’m not leaving. Folding my arms over my chest, I lean back in my seat. “I belong here as much as anyone else in this class. Just because I missed a day—”
“Exactly. You missed a day. You failed to notify me, didn’t bother to prepare for today’s lesson, and you had to bum a syllabus off of the gentleman sitting next to you. All of those things combined tell me that you’re not serious and I don’t have time to play art class, Miss Hill. We’re serious people and you’ve proven that you are not, unless…?”
Carter flicks his eyes my way and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, but I’m already speaking. “Unless what?”
“Unless you want to prove to the class, and myself, that you are, in fact, a serious artist and won’t waste anymore of our precious time.” Evil Santa stares me down, but I don’t look away.
My jaw is set, locked, to keep from cursing him out. What an assface. “Fine. Done.”
The professor smirks. “You aren’t going to ask what I mean by that?”
“No. I’m all in, as long as it’s art and you didn’t just sucker me into washing your car for the semester.” I glare at him, hoping I earned a little respect. The man seemed so nice when he first walked in the room. It’s weird that he did a one-eighty so quickly.
“Very well. You may stay.” Evil Santa continues the lesson and forgets about me.
Carter doesn’t speak, but his eyes keep wandering in my direction. At the end of the class, he gathers up his books and follows me outside. Running to catch up, he falls in step beside me. “He played you, you know. You walked right into his trap.” He laughs softly, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.
I shrug. “What’s he going to have me do? Clean the desks and knead all the erasers until my hands cramp?”
The corners of Carter’s lips twitch as he tries to hide his amuseme
nt. “Nope. You just signed up to be the model in the Tuesday night figure drawing class.”
“What?” I stop walking and every thought flies out of my head. “I did not!”
He’s laughing. “You totally did. He suckered you into it. Dr. Jax always pulls shit like that.”
I punch Carter’s arm to make him stop sniggering, but he just laughs harder. “I can’t be a model!”
“No one wants to be the model. Like, ever. But it is difficult to learn how to draw when there aren’t any volunteers.”
I’m standing in the quad with my jaw on the grass. “I volunteered to be a model?”
“Yup.”
“In a figure drawing class?”
“Yup. Now, connect the dots, freshman.” Carter’s eyes sparkle, the smile on his lips growing broader.
Horrified, I look him in the face. “It’s a figure drawing class, so the model is… Oh God.”
Carter chuckles. “Yeah, God can’t help you. You signed up to be the nude model. It’ll be way better than drawing the same old, wrinkled dude that usually shows up.”
My eyes shift slowly to the side, and glance at him. “You’re in that class?”
“Kerry, every upper classmen in the department is in that class. Don’t worry. I bet you won’t be the only model he suckers into it.”
“Really?” I ask hopefully.
“No. I seriously doubt it. I was just trying to make you feel better.” He pauses and smiles. “Come on, it’s not like it matters. You’ve drawn nudes before.” Carter tugs my elbow and starts us walking toward the main building.
My feet move slowly, but my mind is reeling, spinning like a top, struggling to figure out how to get out of this situation. “Yeah, I’ve drawn nudes, but they’re other people. I’m not a model! Carter, you have to help me.”
“I tried.” I give him a look and he amends his statement. “Okay, I didn’t try very hard. I’m selfish and you’re beautiful. I bet he lets you wear a drape or something. Don’t worry about it.”
