We both freeze.
Devan's hand clamps over my mouth, muffling the desperate whine that tries to escape. His other hand goes still around me, not releasing, just... holding. I'm, teetering on the edge, every nerve screaming for release.
"Shh." His breath is hot against my ear. "Don't. Move."
The cart squeaks closer. Pauses. I can hear someone humming, off-key and oblivious, just on the other side of the door.
I'm going to die. I'm going to combust. Devan's hand is still wrapped around me, his chest heaving against my back. I can feel how hard he is pressed against my ass. We're both frozen while my body screams at me to move, to thrust, tofinish—
I'm going to get caught getting jerked off by my academic rival in the library and I'm going to have to transfer and my parents are going to be so disappointed—
The cart squeaks again. Rolls past. The humming fades down the corridor.
Devan exhales, a shuddering rush of breath against my neck.
"Now," he growls. "Where were we?"
His hand starts moving again—faster now, rougher, desperate—and I can't hold back anymore. His other hand stays clamped over my mouth as he strokes me with a single-minded intensity that leaves no room for thought.
"Do it," I manage against his palm, the words muffled. "Just do it."
He doesn't hesitate.
He bites down.
His teeth sink into the gland, breaking the skin.
Pain flares, sharp, then drowns in a golden rush. The world narrows down to this room, this man.
I scream, the sound muffled against his palm. I come hard, spilling over his hand.
Devan groans, grinding against my ass, shuddering.
He holds me there, teeth locked in my neck, riding out the aftershocks. We're both trembling. I'm gasping for air, his palm still pressed to my lips.
Slowly, he releases his bite. Licks the wound, a soothing, possessive stroke that sends shivers down my spine.
"Mine," he whispers against the wet skin.
He pulls his hand out of my jeans, messy with the evidence of what we just did. Wipes it on his black jeans without a second thought. Pulls my hoodie down, smoothing the fabric over my back, covering me up.
He spins me around.
I slump against the wall, sliding down until my ass hits the carpet. My legs refuse to hold me. I look up at him.
I just got mauled. By Devan Morse. In the library. On a TUESDAY.
Devan drops to his knees in front of me. He doesn't care about anything but me. He cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. The storm in his eyes has settled into something quiet. Awed.
He rests his forehead against mine. The room smells like us.
"Real," he whispers. "You're real."
I let out a shaky, wet laugh, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "Yeah," I breathe. "I'm real."
I'm real. I'm here. I'm sitting on disgusting library carpet with come in my underwear and a bite mark on my neck and I just found my fated mate.
"And you." His thumb brushes my lip. "Are my mate."
