My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving red lines in their wake, and I feel a shudder run through him.
"Oh fuck," he groans against my ear. "Come with me, baby."
And I do.
I fall first, shattering around him with a raw, ragged cry.
The orgasm rolls through me in waves, every muscle in my body clenching, my vision whiting out as my body convulsed in his arms.
He pumps into me one last time before collapsing on top of me, his weight pinning me down but not uncomfortably so. Welay there together, both panting heavily as our hearts race to calm down from the intense passion that just consumed us both.
For the first time in my life, I feel utterly, gloriously spent. And happier than I ever thought possible.
"I love you..." he whispers.
"I love you more..." I murmur, smiling so wide my cheeks ache.
His lips curve into that devastating grin—the one that still makes my stomach flip like it's the first time all over again. God, he's so stupidly handsome when he smiles like that.
"Impossible..." he breathes, before leaning in to kiss me again—slow, gentle, a quiet promise sealed between us.
We stay there, tangled in the sheets and each other, smiling like idiots. The world feels small—just the two of us, hearts still racing, bodies still trembling from everything we just shared.
Years from now, I know I'll still remember the way he looked at me tonight—the softness in his eyes, the way love felt brand-new and endless all at once.
Our first night.
Our forever beginning.
CHAPTER forty-three
CAROLINE
Iget back to my dorm around eleven, hair a mess, lips probably still swollen, and the world's dopiest grin plastered on my face. Zach tried to convince me to stay over, but if I did, let's be honest—zero studying would happen tonight.
The man is way too good at distraction.
Besides, I've got two papers due and an exam tomorrow, and apparently, academic responsibility and being stupidly in love don't mix well.
Still, as soon as I flop onto my bed, the smile I've been trying to suppress breaks free.
My whole body feels like it's humming — like I've been plugged into a very specific kind of happiness. Every muscle is loose, my heart's light, and my brain's just playing a nonstop highlight reel ofhim.
I bury my face in my pillow and let out a squeal so undignified it could shatter glass.
Oh my god. Zach Westbrook. My boyfriend. My very hot, very talented boyfriend.
I kick my feet in the air like some lovestruck freshman, rolling back and forth until my blanket tangles around my legs.
I should be focusing on my paper right now, but instead, all I can think about is the way he looked at me, the way he said my name as he came, and how he seemed determined to make me come until I couldn't remember my own name—which happened more times tonight than I could count on both hands.
My cheeks actually hurt from smiling.
I think I'm doomed.
I force myself off the bed before I dissolve into another puddle of delirious giddiness and head to the bathroom. A cold shower—it's the only cure for whatever this intoxicating condition calledZach Westbrookis.
The water is freezing, but it helps. Sort of. I come out ten minutes later, hair dripping, feeling slightly more human... or at least less feral.
