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I pressed against her, backing her up until she was completely inside our office, shutting the door behind me. She leaned back against our desk. I braced my hands against it on either side of her as she arched into my chest. I pressed my lips to her throat, “I know you may be tempted to skip out on class, or homework, or whatever prestigious ass internship you’ll inevitably find yourself in, so you can stay home and jump my bones all day.” Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding in sync with mine. “But if I have to physically pry you off of me in order for you to stay on top of your shit, I will.”
She snorted, “I don’t imagine I’ll struggle with that as much as you think I would.”
I smiled against her jaw, dragging my mouth up to her lips. “I suppose I’ll have to prove you otherwise, then.” I sucked her bottom lip under my teeth and bit down on it.
She gasped. “That…” She moaned. “That would be very unprofessional,” her hand found its place around my neck, pressing me into her tighter, “in the workplace.”
I released my hold on her lips so they could move freely on top of mine. She flicked her tongue across my bottom lip, releasing a groan of my own. “Then I’ll just have to wait until after work to show you just how addicting I can be.”
“Bold of you to assume I’m addicted to you.”
I chuckled, removing my mouth from hers and bringing it to her ear. “Tell me that again the next time you’re coming on my tongue.” I nipped on her earlobe. “On my cock.”
I felt her body tighten against me, I felt her legs squeeze together and imagined the wetness pooling there. “The bell is going to ring soon,” she whimpered.
I nodded, knowing I’d need a moment to come down from this. Remembering how insanely inappropriate we were being in the workplace. Remembering I had a class to teach in ten goddamn minutes.
She planted her hand on my chest as I pulled back from her. She straightened out her sweater and brushed her fingers through her hair. As if any of it would hide the fact that she was entirely flushed. “I’ve got to get to class.” She stepped toward the door. I kissed her once more before opening it for her. “Oh, and Christine asked me to stay a little late with her and help her grade some of the projects the students had been working on over spring break.” She chewed on her lip. “I can have Maddie come pick me up later?”
I shook my head. “That actually works fine, Pep. I was thinking about going surfing after work, anyway. So maybe I can drop by and grab you on my way back home. Around six?”
She gripped the handle to the main classroom door when a smile bloomed on her cheeks. She leaned in and kissed me once more. It was quick and effortless. Casual in a way that felt permanent. It stirred up something in my stomach that felt like flight. “Sounds good,” she chimed before she slipped out the door.
I leaned against the door frame, watching her as she disappeared down the hall knowing the smile that shadowed my face. Stepping back into the classroom, I pulled out my phone.
Dom picked up on the third ring.
“I need you to call my dad. Tell him he and I can talk more about it tonight, but I need you to handle whatever needs to be done to get an offer put in that apartment complex in Venice. Tell my dad I’ll manage it for him. Tell him I’ve got ideas for the studio, too.”
I could hear him smiling on the other side of the phone.
Chapter Twenty Three
Penelope
WEMADEITALLOF ONE NIGHT in separate beds before I found myself crawling back into his late last night. I told him on Monday that I thought it would be best for me to stay at home during the week. It wasn’t realistic that I’d be spending so much time with Macie. I loved her, but I wasn’t a fan of sleepovers with my friends as a child, let alone as an adult. It’d be unconvincing to my parents that I’d be sleeping there so often.
Despite that, I found myself somehow being talked into another surf lesson yesterday after work. Carter claimed it was to get my mind off of the pending admissions decision from UCLA. I was adamant there were more effective ways of distracting me, but once I found myself pressed against his chest in the water again, UCLA was not at the forefront of my mind. Afterwards, I told my parents I was going out with Macie and Jeremy, but I really went back to Carter’s. It was ten-thirty before we realized we’d spent over three hours grading assignments together in his bed. He’d suggested we deserved a break, and I agreed. After our break left us spent and breathless, I was too exhausted—too enticed—to leave.
Waking up next to someone was not something I’d ever felt I had been missing. I never felt lonely when I was asleep. The last time I slept next to another person on a consistent basis was my mother when I was young. We couldn’t afford a place with more than one bedroom, so we shared it. Shared the bed too. When I was adopted and was given a room of my own, it was something almost incomprehensible to me. But there was something about sleeping alone that I knew should have scared me. I’d never slept by myself before. Instead, though, it became something that I had only ever shared with my mother. A piece of me that wouldn’t belong to anyone else.
It felt different with Carter, though. Four nights in the last week I’ve spent sleeping next to him. I was beginning to hover dangerously in the area of having this as a routine. And yet, that didn’t scare me at all. I’d spent so much of my life hoarding this feeling to myself, that I never allowed myself to savor the way it felt to share someone’s body heat. To slip just out of consciousness in the middle of the night and be unaware of almost everything around you except for the breathing of that other person.
To feel safe, protected, by that person’s breathing. By their presence.
I never had that with James. We rarely spent full nights together, and even when we did, it didn’t feel like this. It didn’t feel like waking up next to someone and knowing that the immediate start of your day will consist of your mouth on theirs. Of their smile being the very first thing you see, accented by the morning light. That the first thing you touch will be them. The first sound being their shallow breaths, their beating heart, their voice. To wake up knowing that you’re offering them the same experience. That they’re savoring it in all the ways you are too.
This feeling was something I hadn’t known I was missing.
Something I never wanted to sleep without again.
His face was somehow even more relaxed when he slept than when he was awake. I wasn’t sure that could even be possible. If his consciousness was a breeze, I imagined his subconscious as a flowing river stream. No trace or hint of struggle, fear, or uncertainty reflected in his features. I wondered what my features gave away on the mornings he woke before me. I wondered if he watched me sleep too, and if he did, were the hauntings of my mind apparent on my face, or did I appear as peaceful as he does now?
Sleeping next to him brought me comfort I hadn’t known existed before. I knew within that I was sleeping better—more deeply, more soundly—than I had in months. Years, probably. Though certain moments flashed behind my eyes from time to time that held enough weight to crush my chest. Sometimes I could still feel those tendrils of anxiety coiling around my throat and threatening to cut off my air supply. Those tendrils could creep up on me in my dreams. I wondered, if he’d been watching me during one of those moments, would he have been able to see them too?
It killed me that I was still lying to Carter. Well, not lying, per se. More like omitting the truth. I admitted to him that I cheated in order to get into the grad program at Oxford. It went onto my transcripts and severely impacted the way other schools see me. I told him I had a fraudulent letter of recommendation for the program. Which wasn’ttechnicallytrue. At least, I think James meant what he’d written in the letter.
Even so, it’d been eating away at me for weeks. Now that he’d vowed to move to California, to follow me, I knew I needed to tell Carter the entire story. He deserves to know before he commits to me.
