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Ha. Oh dear.
“Eden will come around,” I say, sounding more sure than I feel. “Once she sees you more often, she’ll get used to you.”
Ambrose sucks in a breath and goes still. His warm, strong arms cage me in, and his throat bobs as he swallows, and his heart thuds loudly in his chest.
“Does that mean—are you saying—?”
“You do want me, right?” I ask weakly.
“Yes.” My tutor bursts back in motion, plastering me even closer. “So fucking much. You have no idea, Lane. From the first time we met, even—”
My insides glow warm. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
I nuzzle his throat. “Yeah.”
It’s all a blur after that. A shivering, laughing blur, as Ambrose peels me out of my sodden sundress and flings it onto my overfull hamper, then chafes every inch of me with the towel and bundles me beneath my bed covers.
“I need body heat,” I say, snaking out an arm to reach for him, but Ambrose is already shrugging off his shirt and dropping it on my cluttered desk. He undresses the way he does everything: with maximum efficiency and barely a flicker of emotion. The glasses are the last to go.
Then he slides into bed with me, and Ambrose Brent ispureemotion. Love and need shine out of his handsome face as he rolls on top of me and cages me in with his forearms, kissing me hard and deep and true.
Heat builds and builds, chasing away my shivers until I’m sweating and flushed. The bed springs sing out in a chorus as we kiss and grip and writhe.
“Your bed is shit,” Ambrose tears his mouth away to say at one point, rubbing the tip of his nose over my cheekbone. “Next time, stay at my place.”
I hook a leg over his hip. “Deal.”
Eden would like that better too, I’m sure. But for now, I’m glad my roommate is far away down the hall, because whenAmbrose’s hard length rubs between my legs… I couldn’t stop this for a category five hurricane.
Ten
Ambrose
Lane Rhodes is so fucking sweet beneath me, panting and mewling and arching up to kiss me hard, her fingernails clawing hot streaks down my bare back. She’s everything I knew she’d be and more, her damp hair spread over the pillows, and it feels odd that the sounds of the dorm are seeping through the walls: other girls’ music, laughter and conversation from the common area, the faint smack as someone drops their shampoo bottle in the shower.
Surely there should be angelic choirs singing, or something. Surely it should be just the two of us, marooned on a desert island, with nothing but the shiver of palm leaves and the gentlehush, hush,of the waves.
It doesn’t matter. Literally nothing could make this moment less meaningful—not even when someone sprints down the hall outside, cackling. It just makes Lane giggle, burying her face in my neck.
So hot.
So soft.
So perfect.
Fuck, I thought I’d lost her. My chest aches at the memory, the sting still not fully healed, and I hitch Lane’s thigh higher around my hip, rocking against her. Suddenly so desperate to getin.
“We don’t have to.” My voice is raw. “If you’re not ready, or if you just don’t want to. Tell me to stop, Lane, and I will.”
She cups my face, blue eyes bright and happy once again. “Duh. But I want this. Don’t you?”
Oh, please. Lane canfeelhow badly I want her—can feel the bruising hardness of my shaft, my pulse throbbing in the vein, can feel the way my breath hitches every time I glide through her wet folds.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” I mutter.
Lane kisses my cheek. “You won’t. Come on, we can call it another lesson.”
