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“I am,” she agrees. “School is kicking my ass.”
She rolls over away from me, and even though there’s only inches between us it feels like an ocean.
Within minutes the sound of her breathing changes and I know she’s asleep.
I wish I could say the same for myself.
I wake up tangled in Bennett’s arms. My leg is tossed over his and my head rests on his chest with his arms wrapped around me. As I blink into awareness, I realize I should pull away but I also know I don’t want to. The warmth of his body against mine feels like the most dangerous temptation out there.
I know he’s all kinds of wrong for me, but that doesn’t stop me from being attracted to him. In fact, I think it makes me like him more because he is different than the kind of guy I normally go for. My usual go-to is a guy from a good family that has lofty career aspirations like a doctor or lawyer or something and his idea of a fun ti
me is going to the country club. But that … That’s boring. Bennett’s anything but boring. In the last few months, he’s made me feel more alive than I ever have.
I sit up a bit and admire the slope of his nose and the slight poutiness of his lips in sleep. He breathes evenly and I can see his eyes moving behind his closed lids as if he’s dreaming. His chest is bare and covered in a light dusting of reddish-blond hair and freckles. His shoulders are wide and muscular, the perfect width for snuggling into.
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I trail a single finger down his stomach and to the top of his boxer-briefs. Something compels me to slip my finger beneath, but before I can go much further, he snaps awake and his hand wraps around my wrist.
“What are you doing?” His voice is thick with sleep and he blinks tiredly at me.
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly, embarrassment leaking into me. “I … I shouldn’t have done that.”
I try to pull my hand away but he won’t let go, so I stay trapped there with my hand beneath his underwear. I feel like the kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar and now there’s no way in hell I’m getting any cookies.
“Why, Grace?” he asks, and I can tell he’s becoming more aware and I swear there’s lust in his eyes.
“Because I wanted to.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He lets go of my hand and crosses both of his behind his head. “Go ahead,” he urges. “Do whatever you want. I won’t stop you and I won’t touch you.”
I know what he’s really saying. He’s giving me the freedom to explore him without having to worry about thinking he’ll want me to return the favor.
“Are you sure?” I find myself asking.
“As long as Elle isn’t going to bust in here and see you looking at my cock like it’s a damn Oscar, then I don’t care. Granted, I’ve been caught in a lot worse situations but let’s not traumatize your roommate, okay?”
I laugh and glance at the clock. It’s early, and I doubt I’ll see Elle until after lunchtime.
“We have time,” I say, biting my lip nervously.
I know there are some virgins out there that have explored oral sex and other things, but not me. I was more interested in my schoolwork and I just didn’t like any guy enough to want to. I’ve always been curious, but there’s never been any guy I was comfortable enough to do this with. Bennett, though, I trust him not to take this farther than I want to. Maybe that’s weird since I know he’s slept around and basically been a big ole man-slut but he’s never tried to pressure me into anything. Yes, he makes sexual innuendos on an almost daily basis, but that’s just his personality. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it.
“Proceed,” he says with a lazy look.
My heart accelerates behind my rib cage. This is a big deal for me. I think Bennett must realize this because he keeps his mouth shut at my hesitation instead of cajoling me.
I take a deep breath and then silently scold myself for being silly.
It’s a dick, not a shark. It isn’t going to bite my hand off.
I move my hand lower and I can feel the hard length of him. I swallow thickly, skimming my hand down and back up. He’s already hard, and for some reason, this fact makes desire pool in my belly.
“Can I?” I ask hesitantly, nodding at his boxer-briefs.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’m not helping, though. This is all you.”
I hate it when he calls me Princess, but when he says sweetheart it does something funny to me. It makes me feel like he cares.
My heart races even faster as I tug his underwear down. He springs free and I moan. I don’t know why I have that reaction since it’s not like he’s touching me or I’m touching myself, but seeing him like this turns me on.
