“What?” Her brow furrows.
“Three goals in one game.” I wiggle my eyebrows as red creeps up her throat.
She nudges my arm but recovers fast. “Three outputs on one input cycle. Acceptable for preliminary testing. But I’ll need more data before I sign off.”
“I can do that,” I say, tightening my grip on her backpack strap and steering us toward a quieter wing of the building.
“Kieran.” She digs her heels in, then stumbles after me. “Where are you going?”
“Quality control,” I say lightly.
Halfway down, a small room sits open, lights off, chairs pushed in around a scarred table. Whiteboard full of half-erased equations. No one inside. Perfect.
I nudge her through the doorway, reach back to pull the door almost shut, and turn her so her back meets the wood.
Her eyes narrow, but she’s smiling. “This does not feel like a sanctioned test.”
“Live environment,” I counter. “Post-meeting conditions. High stakes.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, and I lift her without thinking, her legs tightening around my hips as her mouth finds mine. My hand slides into her hair, guiding her, deepening the kiss until thought burns off at the edges.
The sound she makes when I angle her head just right nearly drops me. My cock surges against my fly, swelling as I slide my tongue between her lips, while she grips my shoulders. The warm give of her sex and the drag of friction makes me curse, wishing we were anywhere but an empty classroom. The twenty-minute walk to my house seems insurmountable.
I should have waited until we were home—my bed, my couch, hell, even my car would be better than here—but the second her fingers curl in my hoodie, I’m gone.
I kiss her like I’ve been starving, like knowing her has rewired me. I know every place she softens, every spot that makes her breath catch, every shift she makes when she wants more. And she does want more. She’s chasing my mouth now, little pulls and needy sounds I already know by heart.
“Rules,” I rasp against her throat, trying to get air, trying to get control and failing at both. “I can’t fuck you here. If we don’t stop, this is going to turn into something we absolutely cannot explain to the dean.”
She looks up at me, flushed and dazed and unreal, fingers tugging at my collar with quietdesperation. “I need you, Starboy.” The whisper lands between us, soft and wrecking. “Now. Please.”
That single word detonates in my chest.
Please.
I’d do anything she asked with that voice. Anything at all.
That’s the moment I know I’m finished. Done for. Past any point of pretending otherwise.
She could say, “Walk me to Antarctica,”and I’d be in line at REI for a parka.
She could say, “Steal the moon,”and I’d be Googling ladder heights.
She says, “please,” and my entire life tilts toward yes.
I shove the door all the way shut. Thank God the corridor is almost empty, because with her thighs locked around my hips, rocking her pussy against my rigid length and moaning into my mouth, there is no way I’m not getting inside her right now. I forget where we are for a second, and how reckless this is. All I can think is that no one else gets to see Wren like this. She is formyeyes only.
“Don’t move,” I say, forcing myself to break away as her legs slide shakily down mine. I steady her, then grab the nearest chair and jam it under the handle. Two strides, and I am back in front of her, framing her face in my hands, greedy for the wild, urgent look in her eyes.
She slides her hands under my sweatshirt, palms warm, fingernails dragging lightly down my chest. “Will you take this off for me?” she whispers, rubbing over my stomach like she is memorizing every line. “Please? Your body is so beautiful.”
My laugh comes out rough. “That’s my line, baby.”
Yeah, I have an athlete’s body. But it’s nothing compared to hers. Strong, sculpted legs. Smooth skin.Curves that fit against me like she was made for it. And the worst part is, she has no idea. She is not flaunting any of it in tiny tops or painted-on skirts like half the campus. She just exists, and it wrecks me.
Maybe I should be grateful. No one else gets this view.
I haul the sweatshirt over my head in one quick move and catch her mouth again, hungry and a little desperate. Her kiss turns fierce, hands already at the waistband of her yoga pants. We fight with the elastic together, shoving them along with her panties past her hips until she can kick them away.
