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"Grad school." I don't want to risk him leaving. "My specialty is Creative Writing."
"Interesting." He smiles. "I studied that as well, but I wound up working on Wall Street."
"Are you trying to warn me that there's no money in English?"
"I'm pretty sure you already know that."
"I'm prepared to be homeless." I laugh. "Who's your favorite author?"
"I'd have to give you an entire list."
"I'll wait."
He smiles, and somehow, we dive deep into the waters of all things literature, and this man matches me stroke for stroke.We share the same favorite authors (minus those who leave me on heartbreaking cliffhangers), love getting engrossed in similar fantasy worlds, and harbor a deep passion for writing.
Before I know it, it's three o'clock in the morning. I'm two shots past tipsy, Liam's knees are touching mine, and I've missed the last train.
Unless I can figure out how to teleport by sunrise, I'll need to come up with one hell of an excuse for missing Senior Dorm Orientation.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
"Something wrong, Rebecca?" Liam leans closer, and I press my forehead against his.
"No." I say as his lips brush against mine. "Not at all."
I spot the bulge in his pants and hold back a gasp, knowing that he's probably seconds away from asking me to go home with him.
"I don't believe in sex on a first date," I say, and his lips curve into a smile.
"Okay." He threads his fingers through my hair. "Do you believe in letting me devour your pussy until you come while dripping all over my face?"
"I…" I've never experienced a man talking to me like this before. "Yes…"
"Good." He slowly pulls back and downs the rest of his drink. "Where do you stay?"
"My place is an hour and a half away by train."
"You commute that far to school every day?" He raises an eyebrow. "Which university are you attending?"
"Um, it's more like a…"
Bzzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzz!
His cell phone suddenly rings, serving us the first intrusion we've had all night.
"Hold that thought," he says, answering it. "Hello? Yeah, I'm still in Boston…You need me to do thatnow?" He sighs. "No, I understand. I'll grab my car and handle it. Just give me the address as soon as you know it."
He ends the call, shooting me a sympathetic smile.
"I'm sorry," he says. "That was my new job. They need me to handle something that can't wait."
"So, you're some type of urgent care doctor?"
"I wish. Let me make this up to you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to." He taps his screen. "What's your phone number?"
