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A photo from him comes through and I nearly drop my phone. He matched the last one I sent. He doesn’t have the sweatpants on anymore, sprawled on his bed with his hand in his boxers, fist wrapped around an obvious bulge.
Oh my god. Is he—? Right now?
Another message pops up in our chat.
Cooper:You’re making me regret sending you away, baby girl.
Part of me wants to sneak back out of the house and go back to his room next-door. My body is certainly partial to the idea. But his ragged murmur of rule one when we kissed stops me from suggesting it.
We have time.
Tatum:Night [kissing emoji]
Cooper:Night
Another smile crosses my face as I set my phone on my nightstand. I rifle through my notebook stash and pick one to make a record of our study sessions. This one has a dark cover with blush roses. Opening to the first blank page, my smile stretches into a grin.
Session one, I write. Then I fill the pages with a detailed account of every sensation, every dirty murmur, and the way it made me feel.
Excited anticipation fills me. This is working out. My body thrums with the thought of next time.
I look at the photo he sent back, biting my lip.Damn boy. It’s mouthwatering, filling my head with dirty fantasies. I still haven’t seen his dick, but I imagine it’s as perfect and sexy as every other part of his body.
If I can affect a guy like Cooper, things aren’t hopeless. Check mark to the one box I want to nail, here I come.
FOURTEEN
COOPER
I last two days before I text her our code word for another study session. My thin self-control almost snapped the other night when I had her in my room, grinding on my thigh while I pinned her to the wall and kissed the shit out of her. Every second since she walked out has been an acute form of torture.
And I’m the genius who gave her the homework assignment. Tatum does exactly as I instructed, sending hot as fuck selfies. Twice a day, because she’s always going to be an overachiever.
Screw past me, that guy’s a dick.
My phone vibrates and when I check it, I press the heel of my palm to my groin. Tatum sent another photo through the Instagram DM thread where we’ve been doing this to keep it on the down-low. She’s supposed to come over for tonight’s lesson.
See you soon, it promises.
She’s wrapped in a short towel, wet hair falling around her face and shoulders in darkened tangles. Her tan skin is flushed from the shower, and she’s leaning forward slightly to offer a tease of cleavage. The more she sends, the more confident she grows with them.
“Fuck,” I drag out in a low mutter. “You’re so paying for these when you get here.”
I held back the first time, but tonight I’m taking her apart.
Last time I only had a taste. Tonight I’m going to feast until I taste nothing but her on my tongue for days.
The thought makes my dick throb. Gritting my teeth, I debate if I have time to rub one out again before she gets here. I opt not to, trying to kill my boner by looking up the South Bay College course registration site to check if the class I need has opened up a new time slot yet.
Twenty minutes later, Tatum lets me know she’s heading over. I go downstairs to meet her. My parents left this morning for a health and wellness retreat they’re speaking at, so we have the place to ourselves. It’s a good thing, too.
Tonight I plan to make Tatum scream for me.
I won’t stop until I take her apart.
When I open the door, I peer around the shared driveway, looking for her. Frowning, I check my phone. Did she get caught sneaking out, and had to make up a cover story?
“Tate?” I keep my voice low.
