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He’s whispering my name now, his senses just as frayed as mine.
“Lilah, Lilah, Lilah.” It sounds husky, almost reverent, and he jerks my body closer to his every time.
Then comes the throbbing, the shudder, the swell.
A tortured groan claws its way out of him as his face screws up, his hips grinding, stirring his cock inside me as he comes.
He orgasms the same way he does everything else.
Quietly but so intensely he could split you open with one look.
There’s a part of me that wishes the condom wasn’t in the way so I could feel it as his cock heaves.
One fist tangles my hair and pulls as he empties himself, growling with every pulse, a human storm that won’t let go until we’re so spent I’m not sure either of us are still breathing.
When I’m able to think, we’re both slumped against the desk.
Of course, I’m a mess.
Weak, trembling, satisfied, and slick with sweat and God only knows what else.
Then my brain starts to work again through the fog of the best sex I’ve ever had. My jaw drops.
Oh, Christ.
What did we just do?
Fear bolts through me, almost as powerful as that orgasm to end all orgasms moments ago.
No, I’m not blaming him.
Lucas kissed me first, but I practically threw myself at him.
“Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper, my throat dry and my voice cracking. “Lucas, the door!”
His weight slides off me as he jerks back.
He was still inside me, rooted so deep it’s jarring when he’s gone, making me feel like I’ve been hollowed out.
Lucas rests his soothing hand on the small of my back.
“Hold still,” he murmurs. “Keep breathing.”
I can’t do anything else as he pulls away, leaving me sore and aching with his absence.
So I bite the sound rising up my throat behind my teeth, holding it in as he separates before I’m scrambling upright, pulling my panties back into place, yanking my jeans up over my hips with a desperate look toward the open freaking door.
I can’t quite bring myself to look at Lucas.
Not yet.
It’s just too real.
But I hear his zipper closing and then the wet thunk of—oh no.
The condom hits the little wire wastebasket next to the desk.
I dart for it, refusing to look at it as I close up the bag with only one thing inside that definitely doesn’t belong here.
Behind me, there’s a creak, then the sound of the door latching shut.
“There. Crisis averted,” Lucas rumbles. His voice sounds like he’s blown his throat out with growling whispers, the way he made my name a mantra of pure lust. “Don’t think anyone saw. We’re the only folks here.”
“I sure hope you’re right! If anybody heard that...” I don’t finish. I just try to gulp down the rock in my throat and what’s left of my shattered dignity.
It’s too late for whispers and regrets, anyway.
I stare down at the little white bag crumpled in my fists.
What the hell was that?
What came over me?
Rutting like animals bent over this brand-new desk from the Arrendells, a classroom door open, blinds up, screaming like a banshee for anyone to hear in this supposedly empty school.
Holy hell, what’s wrong with me?
“Delilah.” His eyes glow softly, almost apologetic. “The lot was empty when I pulled up, I swear. We’re the only ones here. Even if we’re not, no one would ever guess it was you.”
“I... yeah.” I press the back of my hand to my mouth and lift my head slowly, forcing a smile past the knot in my throat. “Listen, um, can we talk about this later? I still need to tidy up and take care of some things before I lock up and leave.”
For the briefest second, hurt flashes across his face, darkening those soulful green eyes.
I know.
I know what I’m doing.
Trust me.
But I’m also avoiding, deflecting, struggling.
Honestly, I need a hot minute alone to process this.
Maybe a few hot hours.
I need to figure myself out, everything I’ve been denying about why I bristle and snarl and get so defensive around Lucas Graves.
Every reason why he was the one dominating my mind when I broke out my battery-operated boyfriend the other night.
But I can’t do that while he’s standing there, staring like a whole season of spring greenery distilled into a man, his lips parted like he wants to say something but he can’t.
I don’t blame him.
Lord knows I don’t know the words, either.
And I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if what we just did was a casual impulse we’ll pretend never happened, two consenting adults letting off a little steam, or something wilder.
If it’s something else, if it’s—
No.
I can’t say it.
I just silently beg Lucas not to press me right now, even if I hate rejecting him like this, leaving him wondering.
There’s a silence hanging around us that’s too loud, devoid of that peaceful stillness he normally brings that makes it so easy to just be around him.
