“Yes, this is a dream. My god.” He buried his face against my pussy, inhaling as he gripped my ass hard. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
He slid his tongue against my clit, humming into me as I leaned forward. His strokes were rhythmic, perfect. Each brush against my swollen nerves caused me to jerk with need. “Yes, Preston, yes.”
“Grab the headboard.”
I did, and he sucked me harder, sliding his fingers into me from behind and curling inside me. “Goddamn.”
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mouth covered my pussy entirely, and I ground against him, chasing the orgasm just out of reach. It wasn’t difficult—I was so turned on from sucking him off but fuck. I gripped the edge of his headboard, digging my nails into it as he changed his pace. He went slower, deeper, and that had me arching my back. “Preston!”
“Mmmm,” he replied, not slowing down or stopping. The orgasm exploded from my core, spreading through my limbs like a firework. I cried out his name over and over, the pleasure erasing all coherent thoughts. The pent-up anger dissipated as I hunched forward, resting my forehead on the headboard.
“Holy shit.” I breathed, laughing. “That was incredible.”
“You’re not done either.” He nibbled my inner thigh, and I looked down at him, his face between my legs. He wore a huge smile, and his eyes were dilated. “You need another one, and I’m gonna give it to you.”
“Kinda bossy for a guy I could smother with my thighs.”
“Baby, I’d love to go out that way.” He sucked my inner thighfor a beat, then moved back toward my clit. One brush of his tongue, and I moaned and fell against the board. It was so, so good. He repeated the process of bringing me to orgasm, turning me completely into putty, and yeah, I was less grumpy with him.
Sliding off him, I quickly slid my pants back on. “I gotta use the bathroom real quick,” I said, not quite looking at him. My heart twisted with uncertainty. It was easy to escape in sex, but now that it was done, I had no idea what to say. He always made things easy, and now they weren’t.
“You’ll come back in here then?”
I tensed. “Do…you want me to?”
“Yes, Jordan. Of course I want you to. Let me wash my face, then should we talk?”
Talk?Fuck. Oh no. That couldn’t be good. “Sure,” I muttered, ducking my head to hide my face. It enflamed with worry. What would he want to talk about? About how he’d been pulling away from me? How things had felt so weird all week, when I finally thought we were together? That he regretted us being together? That he wanted to just be friends? I sucked in a breath, my heart banging against my ribs. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be. The one time I fell in love, he wanted totalk.
“Do you mind grabbing my laptop for me downstairs? I’m sorry to ask—I have to email some professors and don’t want to go down and up again.”
“Of course. Be back in a minute.”
I used the brief moment to collect my thoughts, the process not doing jack shit to ease the worry growing in my gut. This was the shit I hated. The unknown, not aware of how the other person felt about you. It was like my mom all over again, where I wanted to please her and have her love me. The push and pull was exhausting, and no matter what I did, she didn’t care.
This felt like that, and the emotions made breathing hard. Each breath was sharp against my throat, my eyes prickling as Iquickly used the downstairs bathroom and gripped the counter. Logan always said to do a list of my worries and parse out what was real or not.
Preston cared about me. I knew that. He loved me the way I loved him, a deep, genuine friendship. Those feelings had shifted for me, and he admitted he was super attracted to me. But when I wanted to confess and take it to the next step, he backed off. That freaked me out.
He lived here. No matter what, he’d live here with us, and that meant he’d be close to me. If thisthingbetween us blew up, he’d still be close, and we could navigate our friendship that way. There was no future without Preston in it, and he knew I felt that way.
Okay. The deep breathing helped, and my pace returned to normal. I’d see what he had to say, repeating those truths in the process.He’s not leaving me.
I washed my hands, smoothed my hair back and wove it into a braid, and went to search for his laptop. The guy never had the device password protected—which wasn’t smart. He was a hockey god here, and if he ever left it out like this, someone could ruin his life. Hack his account or do something nefarious. At least in this house, he was safe.
Grabbing it with one hand, I quickly shoved a piece of gum into my mouth. The screen came to life with the movement, and his email was pulled up—the subject line jumping out at me.
It wasn’t like I was snooping. I wasn’t. But the words popped out: INTEREST IN NEW APARTMENT: INTERVIEW.
What thefuck?
A ringing formed in my ears, a dull throb as my stomach dropped. This was worse than falling through ice or a roller coaster. Never in my life had I invaded someone’s privacy, yet I couldn’t stop my fingers from moving the mousepad and clicking to open the email. Was it spam? Was it fake?
Why would this pop up in his email?
Hi, Preston,
Thank you for submitting your application! We’re excited about your interest in our apartments. Currently, we have two units available starting February 1st:
