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“I’m glad you’re starting to understand that, Cinderella,” Beckett murmured and stroked his thumb over the apple of my cheek.
“You promise you didn’t follow me?”
Beckett frowned at me. “Of course I didn’t. What happened?”
“Someone was behind me, following me, I don’t know. With all these attacks on campus, I just got scared.” I let my breath out in a rush. “It’s not a funny joke, if it was you.”
“It wasn’t me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a move I’d come to associate with him, the tattoos on his arm moving as his muscles flexed.
Several girls passing us paused to look at him for a second, before rushing away, whispering. Of course Beckett Anderson drew attention wherever he went, especially lurking in the shadows, pressing some girl up against a tree.
“I’ll go and check it out,” Beckett said, peering back along the dark path I’d just walked.
“No, don’t. Just take me home,” I pleaded instead. Was I just being paranoid? It was possible. The campus attacks had all the women on campus on edge. Still, I could have sworn that someone had been right behind me.
“Home?” Beckett repeated. A grin snuck across his lips. “Okay, let’s go home.”
I woke up so hot I could die. Beckett’s jersey was stuck to my damp skin, caught up around my breasts.
The reason for my being overheated was wrapped around me. All six foot five of defenseman perfection. Beckett’s skin was scorching against me. Was he sick or did he always run this hot?
I stopped moving as soon as I registered our position, and the fact that he was still asleep. Light was edging around the curtains, but that hadn’t disturbed my human blanket. We were spooning. And not only were we spooning, but my butt was resting firmly on Beckett’s morning wood, and his left hand was cupping my breast. My other hand was wedged between my goddamn legs. Had I been touching myself in my sleep?
Last night, I’d attempted to tell Beckett that he needed to get my bed back or be a gentleman and sleep on the couch. He’d just grinned and tugged me into bed with him. Was this how we were going to live now? Sleeping together in the same tiny bed? It was crazy. We weren’t dating. He could hardly stand me.But now you know why.
Right. I still had to tell him about his stepmother and her manipulation. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he’d see it as just another way I’d fucked up his relationship with his family. I had no idea, and I was scared of finding out.
Beckett shifted in his sleep, flexing his hips in such a way that he rubbed every inch of his hard length up the cleft of my ass. His hand tightened on my tit, and his thumb brushed back and forth across my nipple. I shuddered. Fucking hell, that felt good. With my shirt pushed up, his touch wasn’t blunted by any material. His skin was on my skin. It felt outrageously good. He murmured in his sleep, his face pressing into the back of my head, hot breath cascading down my neck and making every hair on my body stand at attention. I was spine-tinglingly aware of every single move he made.
He arched his hips again, making a low groan in his throat. I imagined touching myself right here like this, cradled in his arms, while his hand played with my breast. The smell of him, all clean and male and delicious, was clouding my judgment. That would be wrong, surely. It had to be. My fingers twitched. They were already down my panties, like deviants. At the slightest motion, my clit throbbed. That was why the dream had been so good. My body had been reacting to the feeling of Beckett’s touch, his masculine smell, and all the pheromones flying around. Shouldn’t I wake him up?
My fingers moved again, rubbing a circle on my clit, and pleasure blossomed up my spine. It felt so good, I needed more. Beckett’s hand squeezed my tit again, his thumb strumming over the nipple, and I stilled, terrified he’d woken up. When he continued to sleep, my fingers stroked. Just tiny twitches, nothing at all really. I touched myself, getting wetter and wetter as I did, heat rolling through me. It felt illicit to be getting off in his arms while he was fast asleep.
I rubbed at my clit, feeling myself climbing, but unable to move or make a sound. I was trying my best, but I couldn’t help writhing a little in his arms.
The alarm blared beside us and nearly sent me rolling off the bed with fright. My pussy ached with the need to come. I’d been so damn close.
“Don’t get cockblocked by the alarm.”
I yelped at Beckett’s deep rumble. I sprang away from him, or tried to, but his arm clamped around me, clapping against my breast and holding my nipple hostage.
“Finish what you started.”
“Very funny. You must have been dreaming before. I didn’t start anything.”
“Oh, yes you did. Finish, Eve. You’re not leaving here until you do.”
His hand landed on mine as I tried to pull it free of my damn panties. I froze, my heart beating so loud I had no idea how he couldn’t hear it.
“Get yourself off, or I will.” His fingers pressed on mine, sending my hand right back between my legs and holding it there. “Finish.”
“You were awake?”
“Of course I was awake. I was holding your damn tit, Eve. You think I could sleep through that?”
He pushed on my fingers, and I jerked, the pressure on my clit delicious. His fingers were only inches away from touching my cunt. I moved my fingers tentatively, sinking into my wet folds and finding my swollen clit. I circled it, and my legs shook. I was right there.
“I like watching you get yourself off…while you’re thinking about me.”
