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I was fooling fucking no one. Not even myself. I didn’t have to come here. He didn’t force me.
For months, I hadn't so much as looked at another guy when I should have been sowing my wild oats like every other freshman on campus. When I left Claremont, I'd assumed I’d leave behind every warped fragment of affection I'd unwittingly developed for Leon. I didn’t want to want this, but with his soft lips grazing the side of my throat and his firm body pinning mine to the door, I couldn't fucking think straight.
I twisted to face him, detaching our bodies in a last-ditch effort to regain some semblance of control. I couldn't let some panty-smuggling, smooth-talking, boy band wannabe wrest all vestige of it from me. Especially not when the blue-eyed motherfucker would pass me over for someone else given half the chance.
I raised my defiant gaze to his… then promptly lost all coherent thought in the face of the heat scorching his midnight blue eyes. He slid his left hand down my arm and pressed his thumb against the rapid flutter of my pulse. That light touch seared me.
“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping tabs, Lissa, and I’ve got no qualms about telling you just how many times I stroked my cock to pictures of you.”
I couldn’t fucking speak. For a full thirty seconds, I stood mute, my brain fried by his admission. And then I took a much-needed step back and forced a low sound of derision up my throat.
“You’ll say anything to get a girl out of her panties, won’t you, Pretty Boy? You’d be better off saving the lines for someone they might work on.”
The tiny amount of space I'd put between us, he reclaimed in a heartbeat. My back met the door, and Leon's mouth hovered scant millimetres from mine, his eyes dark.
“You really gonna stand there and act like you don’t want me when you’re panting against my door?” His eyes flashed like laser beams, seeing right fucking through me. “Go on and say it. Tell me you don’t want your panties on my bedroom floor while I plunge my cock between your thighs.”
Fuck. A dizzying stroke of lust bolted through me. I opened my lips, not sure what the fuck was going to come out, but I couldn’t let him see how much he affected me, I had to say something…
“Leon—”
His eyes burst wide.
I frowned, my head rolling back as I murmured, “What?”
He swallowed hard. “You called me Leon.”
Some unreadable emotion passed over his face, and I blinked, my lungs deflating.
I never called him Leon, not to his face. For as long as I could remember, he was Bradshaw, or Pretty Boy, asshole, dickhead, jackass, you name it.
But never Leon.
My head was still whirling when he reached down and curled both of his hands around my jaw. His eyes flickered to my lips, holding for a second, and then he tugged my chin up and brought his mouth down.
I didn’t even think. My lips opened for him immediately, my arms snaking up his chest and wrapping tight around his neck.
I could pen a novel with all the reasons why I shouldn’t, but I crushed my body into his anyway… and kissed him back with eight months’ worth of repressed emotion.
EIGHTEEN
LISS
Leon’s hungry lips slid over mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as his hands slipped from my jaw to clasp my nape. We fell back into the hard surface of the door and he rocked his pelvis against me. I gave a strangled cry, lust clouding my mind.
I swept my hands over the corded muscle of his back and moaned when my fingers found the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath.
I needed skin on skin. I needed to feel him on me.
If I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life, I wanted to make it worth it. If this is what it took to get him out of my system, then I wanted to savor every fucking second of it.
Leon dropped his hands to my hips and yanked me closer, the heat from his palms seeping through the thin material of my leggings. He gripped my flesh with greedy fingers, moving us backward until we collided with the edge of the table. A low growl surged up his throat before he hiked me on top of it and stepped between my thighs.
His hips forced my legs apart, and then the rock-hard length of him hit my center. That contact was like a naked flame to a puddle of gasoline. My spine arched as air rushed up my throat like lava, liquid heat pouring through my veins.
I dropped my palms flat against the table-top, my head dangling back limply as Leon ground against me, his lips trailing a wet path to my ear.
“You feel that, Snow Queen?” he grated, breathing heavily as my body writhed against his. “You feel how fucking hard you make me?”
