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He climbs on and holds out his hand to help me, but I hold onto his shoulder and sit behind him like a pro.
“Riding on one before, huh? Do you have one?” he asks.
“No. Well, ridden, yes, but own, no.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe I’m not made of money.”
He snorts before revving the engine. “You know what I’m made of.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“If it hadn’t been for the condom, you would’ve been soaking in it.”
I barely have time to roll my eyes before he’s backing out of the spot and roaring away on his bike. My arms are wrapped around his stomach, and I rest my head against his upper back. He’s so warm and hard, his body as muscular as I recall, and I almost squeeze myself closer to him, wanting to feel more of him.
Fuck. It’s a seriously good thing I didn’t have any alcohol because I would be making even more of a scene.
We head back to campus, to a part I haven’t been to yet. There are small houses here instead of dorms, and he pulls up in front of one.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, and he doesn’t give me a choice this time and helps me off his motorcycle.
“What are these?”
“Upper classmen, if they’re lucky, can live in a house instead of a dorm,” he says.
“How many to each house?”
“Four.”
“Do you live here with those guys you were with at the restaurant?” I ask, trying to sound interested without being too interested. It’s a fine line to walk because for some reason, the way Rob’s looking at me, like he wants to devour me right here and now, with me leaning against his bike, has me a bit weak.
No matter what he says or does, there’s no denying that I’m seriously attracted to him.
“Yes,” he murmurs, “but they aren’t coming over.”
“Not until later?”
“Not tonight at all.”
Shit. He doesn’t want to talk.
Rob secures my hand in his, and he walks me over to the door. With ease, he uses his free hand to unlock the door and open it. He draws me inside, closes the door, and locks it.
Why does that alarm me?
Why doesn’t it freak me out even more?
I clear my throat. “Do you have a kitchen?”
“We can have a tour later,” he says easily, tugging me over to the stairs. “I thought we could talk up here.”
Sure. That has to be where his bedroom is.
“The couch looks comfortable,” I say.
He snorts. “Do you want to know how many different kinds of bodily fluids have covered that material?”
