I turn around, letting my back rest against the counter. “Who writes the music?”
“Sometimes me, sometimes it’s a joint effort. When I write something, we fuck around until we find a sound that fits.”
I huff. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
He spins and cages me in, grinning, and I’m convinced there’s nothing he isn’t good at. His eyes land on the spot on my neck, and I look up, finding a similar mark on his. While mine is a small purple dot, his is an outline of my teeth.
I press my finger to it, a gasp escaping when I feel the indents. “Oh my God! I’m sorry.” I hadn’t realized I bit so hard.
“Don’t be, I like it. Might have it tattooed so I can stare at it forever.”
My eyes dart to his because surely, he’s joking, but his expression is dead serious. I open my mouth to say something, but he kisses my forehead, and all my thoughts melt away. “Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
I shuffle to his room and gather my freshly dried clothes—I have no idea when he did that—and when I turn toward the bathroom, Penn is leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed at his ankles, watching me.
“What?” I ask.
His eyes slowly pan from my bare legs to my face. “You’re fucking perfect.”
“Oh.” My face flushes. The color might as well be permanent at this point. When he says things like that and when he looks at me like that, it’s like he’s searing himself into my bones, branding me.
He pushes off the frame and stands in front of me. My body lights up in anticipation. He grips the back of my neck firmly and drags me into him until our lips press together. My mouth parts, eagerly welcoming his tongue. His strokes are sensual and soft, and an ache starts to build in my core.
I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him closer. His free hand slides under the shirt I’m wearing, squeezing my ass roughly before dragging me against him, rubbing up and down so I can feel every hard inch of him.
I whimper, pulsing with need, but as fast as he pulled me in, he pushes back. “We should go.”
“Wha—I…” I stammer.
He adjusts himself, walking backward. “If you don’t put your clothes on now, you’re never making it to your class. Got it?”
I stand there, staring dumbly at him.
“Olivia. Clothes. Now.”
He picks them up from the floor, and I snatch them, then scurry into the bathroom. He’s right. I’m going to be late if I don’t get going, but now I have to go turned on and frustrated.
Damn him.
36
PENN
The last twoweeks have felt like heaven. Other than Tanner riding us like a motherfucker and getting as many hours as I can at Ray’s, I spent the rest of my free time buried inside Olivia. I knew when I met her, she was itching to shed her skin, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to see what’s underneath.
She was a little shy and timid at first, but now that she’s got a taste for it, she’s not afraid to grab my cock and beg me to shove it inside her.
She’s on spring break now, and I thought we’d get to spend unlimited hours in my bed, but she told me she’s going to her parents’. She didn’t give me any details, only said something came up. I’m already going through withdrawals, knowing I have to spend the whole week without her, and shejustleft.
“Dude, who pissed in your cereal?” Travis kicks my shoe, causing my head to snap up. I scowl at him but say nothing and go back to staring at my notebook. “Blondie still not putting out? Got blue balls or something?” He’s joking, but I’m not in the mood.
“Fuck off,” I growl, throwing the pencil tucked behind my ear at him. He smacks it away before it can jab his eye out.
“You’re killing my mood,” Travis whines. “I’m going to smoke. You wanna hit so you can lighten up?” I shoot him a glare, and he stalks away, laughing. Bastard.
I’m in a foul mood. Not only is Olivia gone, but we got the official word this morning. The tour is on. We’re scheduled to be in Pennsylvania mid May to prepare for the first set of shows. The guys were pumped, as they should be. Only Tanner and I seemed indifferent, but Tanner’s indifferent about most things. I’m stoked for the band. It’ll be huge for us, but the thought of leaving Olivia makes me feel sick. I know we said we’d keep things casual, but I always knew deep down that once I had her, I wasn’t going to want to let go.
I haven’t told her yet, not even mentioned the possibility of a tour. I didn’t want to bring it up unless it was a done deal. We haven’t talked about what happens after she graduates for a minute. Anytime I bring it up, she dodges the question. Ever since she got drunk and rambled on the phone with me about writing songs and her leaving, I can’t broach the topic. She gets all cagey and changes the subject. I’ve chalked it up to her not being ready for how her life is going to change once she’s done with school. I don’t want to put any more pressure on her.
