Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I sigh, hands braced on the counter as his lips trail up and down my neck in one of the sexiest first kisses I’ve ever had, the most sensual and intimate.
The most secretive.
What are we doing? This is wrong.
Then why does it feel right?
Why do our bodies fit so well together?
I want to turn and face him so he can kiss me like he means it. Kiss me like we’re running out of time and the person next in line for this room is about to knock on the door.
Then they do.
Three short raps against the wood startle us both, and we jump but don’t separate.
This time I do turn.
This time I look up, tilt my chin up, and wait.
Eleven
Jack
I understand completely.
Understand that she’s loyal to her roommate. Understand that she likes me despite it.
Understand that she wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her, has wanted to since walking her home in the rain last night.
I hide it well, but not for long. I was never good at gambling, and my poker face can’t last forever without cracking.
Eliza has her back to the sink, hands braced on the counter behind her, chin tilted up. An invitation?
She smells incredible, like shortbread cookies and strawberries, her hair like cherry and almonds. Delicious, like dessert. She shivers when I run the tip of my nose along the delicate skin below her ear.
“I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”
She gives a stiff nod.
“I can go now…” if you want.
Her brows shoot up, and I almost laugh. She’s no more done with me than I am with her, but, “We can’t stay in here forever, Eliza.”
There’s another knock at the door, not an aggressive one, but at some point we’re going to have to have the decency to let the next person take a piss.
She clears her throat, lips only inches from mine since I’m leaning down.
“Could you…say my name again?”
“Eliza.”
Her throat contracts with a heavy swallow, tongue darts out when she wets her lips.
“You really shouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Lick your lips like that.”
Slowly, she does it again, and this time, it’s me whose throat is contracting with a thick swallow, a lump forming there. Nerves. Excitement.
I haven’t actually kissed anyone since Caroline, no matter how set on coming to America and having senseless, meaningless flings I was.
The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, this moment between her and me a defining one to be sure.
“We can’t stay in here forever.”
Now we’re repeating ourselves, nothing else to say.
We have two options:
Back away from one another and walk out of this room.
Kiss one another and get it out of our systems.
“What do you want me to do, Eliza?” I purposely use her name now that I know she has a reaction to hearing it—a favorable one at that. I’d even wager I make her panties wet. Apparently she is not immune to my accent after all, like the rest of the female student population at this university.
“What do you mean what do I want you to do?” she asks innocently, eyes looking a little glazed.
“The way I see it, we can do one of two things: leave the loo or…”
That chin tilts up higher. “Or?”
She knows exactly what I’m referring to, knows exactly what is going through my mind right now because it’s the same thing that’s going through hers. We both want the same thing; she is just fighting the guilt festering. It’s clear that Eliza is a sensible girl who thinks with her head instead of her heart.
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since last night,” I finally admit, my water closet confessional, large palm running up the length of her arm and up her neck so I can cup her jaw in my hand. My thumb strokes her smooth skin.
“You have?”
I nod, having nothing more to say. If she doesn’t want me to kiss her—or even if she does and won’t allow herself to let me—there’s nothing more I can do.
I’ve said what I’ve said, and it spoke volumes.
Eliza goes up on her tiptoes, her hands rising and wrapping around the back of my neck, stunning me. Is she…
…putting the moves on me?
Softly, she presses her lips to mine, and the hand on her cheek remains there as I kiss her back, tilting my head and lowering my stance so she can reach my mouth easier. Eliza is a tiny thing, much shorter than I am by a good thirty centimeters, and I’ve no intention of squandering this opportunity by making it difficult for her to reach my face.
Quickly our chaste, exploratory kiss turns into a passionate one—I cannot get enough of her or her lips or her tongue on mine.
I can feel my cock beginning to stiffen even though she’s not rubbing up against me—she arouses me that much. That easily. When my hand leaves her face and travels to her waist, I pull her closer, wanting to feel her pressed against me.