“Aarons,” I extend my hand out for a shake. “You have yourself a deal.”
Seth grasps it, tugging me against his chest before cupping my face and walking me back against the library stack. “Well, this seems familiar….” I exhale.
“Except this time, you can kiss me like you wanted to.”
“Yeah, I definitely didn’t want to kiss you at the bookstore.”
“Darling, I saw your face.” His lips twitch. “You were looking at me like you are now, desperate for me to bury my mouth into your neck, maybe graze my teeth along your skin with a little bite,” he says, in a low murmur, running one of his fingers delicately along the side of my neck.
Heat burns my cheeks as sparks follow the drag of his finger. We haven’t even started yet, and I’m seconds from begging for a kiss, so that’s cool. Definitely about to lose a fair amount of dignity here. “Have you set the alarm yet?” I ask in a strained voice.
“You sure you don’t just want to wave the white flag now?” He smirks, sliding his phone out from his jean pocket and resting it on a shelf near my head. “Because there’s no coming back from this, Madeline.”
“Boy, you’re so undeservedly cocky.”
“We have the same memories from the past two weeks, right? Because I think my cockiness is pretty valid considering how many times I’ve had you begging for me already.”
“You’re wasting your time, Aarons.”
“Baby, all I’ve ever needed was five minutes with you.” He winks. His hand falls on my jawline, and his fingers brush the nape of my neck, tangling in with my frizzy locks. “I like your hair like this, you know?”
I scoff.
“I’m serious.” His eyes soften. “It reminds me of the first time I saw you.”
My eyebrows bunch together with confusion. That timeline is wildly inaccurate. “I’d already dyed my hair when you met me at Tyler’s party. Not that I know when we met or thought about it ever.”
“Smooth.” He snorts. “Met you, yes, but I saw you before that.” He lowers his head, bringing his mouth millimeters from my jaw. I ache for his lips to press against my skin, but I’m met with hot air blown softly against it instead.
My breath hitches.
“Already going quiet on me?” He laughs.
“When—when did you—“ I can’t get the question out. He slips a hand under my flannel, over my bare shoulder, and peels it off, trailing a finger down my arm. His mouth meets my ear.
“You look good in these, but I think you’d look better in one of mine. Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about that, Maddie? Or how wild you drove me that first year? How bad I wanted you the first time I saw you? The stomach aches you always elicited after. It’s only fair that I return the favor. Darling, you can be the dope in love now.”
If Seth’s proximity and touch weren’t frying my circuits, I might be able to process the fact that he’s admitting that there was a time and place, however short, where Captain Pretentious harbored powerful feelings for pre-makeover Maddie. Or maybe I’d never be able to process that news bomb because what the actual fuck?
I try to open my mouth to say something, anything, but all that my voice box and lips manage without a functioning brain is “mmmphk-flannel-okay.”
“That’s really interesting.” A warm chuckle vibrates Seth’s chest, humming along to the heightened frequency my entire body is buzzing to. He brings his mouth to the shell of my ear, “Don’t worry, Madeline, I’ll show you the same mercy you’ve shown others when you’re a goner.”
“Ass.” I try to hiss, but it comes out marred by heavy breaths. The tightness in my stomach is getting unbearable, and I need relief. I reach out to undo the button on his pants, but Seth grabs my hands with a tsk and pins them above my head.
His free hand moves up the side of my thigh, dancing under the hem of my dress. “Can I?” he asks.
With a whimper and a nod, I give him my consent.
At an agonizing glacial pace, Seth pulls down my fleece leggings and underwear, just enough, before slipping his fingers under the two layers, tracing the crook of my thigh, and touching me everywhere that isn’t screaming in need right now.
With each graze of his fingers, embers spark along my nerve endings with anticipation until a slow-moving fire crackles under my skin, and flames lick my heart alive.
“Do you want my fingers, Maddie?” Seth asks, wearing an annoyingly smug smirk on his face.
“Yes, please.” I fight down the “asshat” that wants to follow those two words. I have to go to class at some point today, and I’d rather not goad him into playing see-how-long-Madeline-Finch-can-last-before-she’s-a-puddle-of-I-Love-Seth-Aarons-Goo.
Or worse, have him work me to the edge and close up shop.
