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“You came for me while you wore them,” he answers. “That makes them mine.”
“You want me to go to all my classes this afternoon without any underwear on?” I ask, crossing my own arms over my chest.
His gaze darkens on me. “You had no problem doing so when you were playing your little games,” he growls. He takes a step towards me and whispers, “At least this time you have my cum dripping down your thigh.” He pats the pocket of his jeans where I now know he’s stuffed my panties. “I’ll keep these as a little souvenir.”
I tip my chin up and his gaze drops to my lips, our faces inches from each other’s once more. “And what do I get?”
He stares at my mouth through lowered lids. “Seven orgasms,” he says. “I think that’s a fair trade, don’t you?”
“You’re keeping count?” I ask, my lips curving into a disbelieving smile.
“Ikeptcount,” he corrects, turning away from me and severing the connection between our gazes.
A rogue thought drifts through my mind that maybe he can’t make himself look me in the eye when he says it.I banish it to the place where I keep all the other things I can’t and won’t think about.It does me no good to let my imagination spiral on things that I know are impossible.
My eyes narrow on his back as he walks to the door. I’m not about to let him have the last word. “I’ll let you know when the next guy beats your record.”
He stops in his tracks and stiffens, his shoulders setting like a brick wall. I expect him to turn around and come back, but he simply looks ahead and calls out over his shoulder, “Don’t tell anyone about this.”
Annoyed, I click my tongue against my teeth and reply, “Don’t you think if I was planning on telling someone I wouldn’t have done so already?”
He nods once, tersely, and walks out, slamming the door behind him. He leaves me with a feeling of being both satiated and incomplete.
There’s an ache in my chest that shouldn’t be there. We slept together, I had multiple, reality-bending orgasms, and now we’re going our separate ways.
Just as I wanted.
Then why is there a lingering…somethingthat I’m not familiar with?
Irritated with myself, I walk over to the chair where I dropped my bag and gather my things.
When I hear the door open again and then close behind me, I whip back around, alarmed. Tristan marches decidedly towards me, a thunderous expression on his face. I barely have time to acknowledge my confusion before his hand is on my cheek and his lips are on mine.
He kisses me languorously, passionately, his lips parting mine and his tongue diving in. I cover his hand with my own and return the kiss with equal fervor, those feelings of frustration evaporating in an instant.
His hand moves down to cup my nape and he pulls me sharply against him. There’s pure violence in this kiss — in the way he attacks and touches and claims — and instead of pushing him away, I lean in closer. I shove my tongue into his mouth. I fist his shirt in my hand. I claw at his back. I moan grotesquely into his mouth when he bites my lip and licks up the blood.
Bad idea, a voice warns as my head spins,he’s dangerous. He’ll destroy you if you let him in.
Just as quickly as he comes back, he rips himself off me. He places his forehead against mine as he pants, catching his breath. I do the same and for a moment we breathe as one.
Reckless. We’re being so fucking reckless.
If my father knew I’d hooked up with one of my professors, he’d probably kill us both.
“One last kiss,” he whispers gutturally, his fingers brushing over my nose. “I needed one last taste of you, jailbait.”
And then he’s gone.
???
Chapter 18
Tristan
“Ifind it interesting,” a voice drawls from behind me the following day.
I turn around and see Phoenix loitering in my doorway. An annoyed rumble starts in my throat.
