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His finger was at my core, and waves of desire were spreading through me, like an inferno. Slowly, methodically, he pushed down, and began to rub. Fuck, how was he doing this? His voice was normal. It looked like he was resting his hand on his leg. And he was holding a whole conversation where Wade and the other guys were hanging onto every word he was saying. The girls perked back up, remembering who was sitting at the same table as them.
“Oh, yeah. I get that.” Wade was nodding back.
Cruz gave another shrug, as his finger circled around me. “College was a good play for me. With injuries, you just never know.”
“But didn’t they try to draft you? Or asked you to enter it?”
He didn’t respond right away, rubbing me. “I was approached, yeah.”
A second finger joined, and he began moving more intensely, pressing, grinding. Before a moan slipped out of me, my hand grabbed his wrist.
He was still looking at Wade, but I caught a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then he yawned, the mother fucker yawned. The pounding was between my legs, right where he was touching, and I could remove his hand. So easily. I could do that. No more tormenting.
But I wasn’t.
I pressed his hand harder into me.
He made a strangled sound, and covered it with another yawn. “Sorry. Traveling, and studying. I’m always wiped by Sunday. How about you, man? Do you have plans for swimming after college?”
Wade launched into his spiel about how he found swimming, how it was going on the team, and what he wanted to do after college. I didn’t hear a word of it because Cruz went back to rubbing my clit. I sat there, pretending to study with one hand holding my highlighter, and the other was holding onto Cruz’s wrist.
God. He was so good at that.
Another sweep, another caress. Then he pressed in again, holding, and ohmyfuckinggod, I was coming at the table. My hand clamped down on his wrist, even as my legs quaked, and when the last of the waves subsided, he turned his hand around, linking with mine briefly before pulling his hand free. Wade was talking to another of the guys. The girls were enraptured, so I shot Cruz a look from the side of my eye. He was looking right at me, and grinned, slowly, but his eyes were dark and piercing.
I opened my mouth, an excuse to leave on the tip of my tongue when the back kitchen door opened.
Plop!
A cupboard was opened and closed. Another cupboard.
The sound of the fridge door being opened.
Things, containers were being placed on the counter.
A bag was crinkled.
More crinkling.
A plate.
The sound of a knife or fork moving over a plate.
The click of something I couldn’t decipher.
The fridge was opened again. I was on the end so I could hear everything more easily than the others.
Whoosh! The smell of toast.
I heard more sounds and then the slightest squeak of sneakers against the kitchen tile.
Miles came to the doorway, a plate of toast in hand and was raising a mug to his mouth. He froze, taking everyone in, the mug at his mouth. His eyes went wide. “Ooh–” He choked a little on his coffee before adjusting and waving with the plate, a tiny motion. “Hi, everyone. No clue a whole study thing was happening here.”
“Hi, Miles.” One of the girls, not the one that liked Wade, waved.
Miles saw Cruz and lit up. “Styles. Man! What’s up.” He walked around, and I ducked to avoid having coffee or toast spilled on me.
“What’s up?” Cruz reached back, giving some space between us from the motion, and his hand met Miles’s in a half handshake, half slap.
Miles scanned the table and sat across from Cruz. “Guessing I’m joining the party.” He put his things down and went to grab his bag.
I sighed.
Thirty minutes later, my phone started lighting up.
I saw an earlier text from Gavin and clicked on it.
Studying with Gaynor at the library. What are you doing?
Me: Just saw your text. I’m in for the night. See you in class on Tuesday.
He responded, but I scrolled through the rest.
Tasmin: Can we talk?
Five minutes later,
Tasmin: You were a bitch to me on the phone, and I’d like to know what I did to piss you off.
Five more minutes later,
Tasmin: I’m not trying to be a bother here, but wth?
Ten minutes after that,
Tasmin: Text me back or I’m telling my brother.
That did it.
I hit call and stood from the table, heading up to my place as she picked up.
“Finally,” she griped.
“I was a bitch to you because we’re not friends. I do not want to set a precedent where you think we’re going to be friends. And for you threatening to call your brother on me, fine, but get ready because knowing how he is, he’d chew me out. Threaten me. Then he’d turn right around and tear into you to leave me the fuck alone.”
