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Tension builds between us as we drive, making all the nerves beneath my skin prickle with a sort of unnamable anticipation. I feel hyperaware of every little movement Reese makes, of his large hands on the wheel and the way beams of light coming through the window pick up the bright highlights in his brown hair.
He glances at me once, probably feeling the weight of my gaze as it consumes him, but I don’t look away. My stomach fills with liquid heat as electric energy sparks between us.
The bike ride to my interview earlier didn’t feel all that long, but the drive home feels interminable. When we finally reach the Icons’ house, Reese pulls quickly into the driveway. The other two men are probably still on campus, not having ditched their classes like he did.
Without missing a beat, Reese turns off the car and shoves his door open, sliding out before coming around to open my door for me. I can’t tell if his gesture is chivalrous or just born of desperation to get me the hell out of the car already—but I honestly don’t care.
Keeping his hand wrapped around mine, he pulls me toward the door, both of us moving so fast we’re almost running. We lose a second as he fumbles to shove the key into the lock, and a second later, we’re inside.
And just like that, the thread snaps.
All the tension that’s been gathering between us breaks, and our lips collide with bruising force. Reese’s hands delve into my hair as he holds my head, angling my face as his tongue slides past the seam of my lips. I welcome his inside, my own tongue battling with his as I struggle to taste all of him, to touch every bit of him.
Our hands are everywhere—groping, squeezing, caressing. Sliding under clothes to steal touches of bare skin, fingernails raking over sensitive flesh. No one else is home, so the only sounds inside the house are our panting, gasping breaths and low groans as we stumble across the living room, trying to navigate our way across the floor without breaking apart for even a second.
“Fuck, Ems. You’re so goddamn gorgeous. It took every damn bit of self-control I had not to kiss the fuck out of you back at the restaurant. To lay you out on the table and eat you instead.”
Reese’s voice is strained, his words coming out with a low rasp as I drag my teeth and tongue down the muscled
column of his neck. When I bite down on the place where his neck meets his shoulder, he growls, hauling my body against his as he shoves his bedroom door open.
I’ve been staying here long enough that there’s evidence of my presence around the room. A few clothes lie on the bed, and my suitcase sits against one wall.
Reese lifts me in his arms, holding me effortlessly as my legs wrap around his waist. For a second, he pulls his attention away from me, casting his gaze around the room. “God, I fucking love having you in here. I love knowing that my sheets smell like you. That you sleep in my bed every night.”
His tone is full of such raw possessiveness that it makes my clit throb. I never knew words alone could turn me on so much, but all three of the Icons seem to have a special gift for saying just the right thing to push me even higher, making need gather inside me like a pool of lava.
“I wish I wasn’t sleeping alone,” I admit breathlessly.
He must hear the truth in my voice too because he claims my lips in a deep kiss the moment I finish speaking. I lose myself in the feel of his body against mine, his broad shoulders and trim waist and muscled arms.
A second later, we reach the bed. He lays me down on the covers, draping his body over mine as he continues to ravage my mouth with demanding lips. I lift my hips a little, beginning to scoot upward on the mattress, but Reese breaks our kiss, catching me before I can get too far.
With a feral, hungry grin, he pulls me back toward him until my ass is nearly hanging off the bed.
“Uh uh, Ems. I want you right here.”
Keeping his gaze on me, he reaches deliberately for the waistband of my pants, flicking the button open and sliding the zipper down. One hand slips inside the opening, his fingers running over my pussy and feeling the dampness of my panties. He teases me with his touch, the thin barrier of my panties still separating us, until I’m writhing on the bed, shifting my hips as I chase his fingers, begging silently for more pressure.
He’s touching me right where I need him, but not enough. I need more.
“Reese! Please!” I gasp out.
A pleased smile curves his lips, and he finally pushes the fabric of my panties aside, dragging one thick finger through the slick arousal coating my folds.
“God, I love how wet you are. Did this start back at the restaurant?” He gives a low growl as he withdraws his hand and hooks my pants and panties, dragging them both down my legs in one swift movement. My flats slip off my feet, landing softly on the floor. “Have you been dying for this since then? Because I fucking have.”
“Yes,” I breathe, beyond lying or trying to play it cool at this point. Air dances across my flushed, exposed skin, drawing out goosebumps as I watch Reese toss my clothes on the floor. He reaches for the button and fly of his own pants, and I move quickly to whip my shirt off over my head, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
Reese kicks off his shoes, then discards his pants and boxer briefs, and when his shirt comes off, a low noise I’m sure I’ve never made before in my life sounds in my throat.
The green of his irises darkens as I reach out for him, trying to pull him back down onto the bed with me. “Not yet, Ems. I want to taste you. I need to make you come on my face.”
He grips his cock in one fist, squeezing like he’s trying to hold off the orgasm—to make himself last until he can slide inside me. A bead of precum slips from the tip and slides down his shaft toward his hand, and I bite my bottom lip so hard it hurts.
I want him inside me. Yesterday.
I’m about to scramble off the mattress and throw myself at him when he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, pushing me back down gently. His lips find my inner thigh, and a shockwave of sensations spreads out from the place where his skin meets mine.
