I come apart, and I don’t just moan– Iscream.
It’s high and breathless and completely involuntary, and for a second the only thing in the entire world is that raw, shattering release. It goes on and on, one wave breaking over the next, until I finally collapse, shaking, sagging back into the pillows.
I lie there boneless, heart hammering, chest still heaving with aftershocks. Wes crawls up from under the covers, licking his lips, looking absurdly pleased with himself. He doesn’t say anything at first, just grins at me like the world’s most self-satisfied golden retriever, then drops a kiss to my shoulder before scooting up next to me.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says, voice thick with sleep and smugness.
My brain is still offline, but I manage a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You’re…” I have to stop, try again, “insane. It’s not even light out yet.”
He snorts, then glances at the clock. “Correction, it’s almost eight. You were out cold. I tried to shake you awake and you just slapped my hand, so I figured… y’know.” He shrugs, dipping his face close until our noses brush. “Seemed like the next logical option.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Eat me until I pass out again? You ever think about, I don’t know, making coffee first like a normal person?”
“I did,” he insists, “but I needed a better breakfast.”
I want to roll my eyes at the cheesiness of it, but I’m too busy trying to keep from smiling. Wes is such a dork it’s almost cute.Almost.I refuse to admit that out loud.
He leans in, kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue. It should be gross, but it’s undeniably hot. I open for him, lazy and content, letting him take the lead. The kiss goes on longer than it should. Long enough that I start to feel something dangerous in my chest; that warm, swelling thing I thought I’d cauterized weeks ago.
I break the kiss first, pulling away with a soft gasp, then flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
Wes props his head on a fist and watches me. “You wanna…?” He glances down at his dick, which is definitely wide awake and not remotely shy about it. He doesn’t reach for me, though. Just waits.
I look at him, then at the clock, then at the ceiling again. The day comes back to me in a rush: class, a lunch meeting with my advisor, the crypt looming in the near future. The memory douses whatever afterglow I had left.
“We’re gonna be late,” I say, sitting up and shoving my hair out of my face. “I have to shower, it’s a hair-washing day.”
He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just gave you a free orgasm and you’re ditching me for shampoo?”
I stretch, spine popping, then stand up and hunt around for my shorts. I can feel his eyes on me, tracking every move, and it takes effort not to ham it up. I wiggle my ass a little as I bend to grab my shorts off the floor, and I hear the mattress creak as Wes sits up straighter, watching.
“You know,” he says, “I never realized how weird girls are about their hair until I started hanging out with you.”
“Maybe because you treat women like they’re disposable,” I shoot back over my shoulder, pulling my shorts up my thighs.
He’s out of bed in a flash, catching me by the waistband and yanking me back toward him. The move should piss me off, but it just makes my pulse race faster. He crowds up behind me, hands splayed over my hips, mouth at my ear.
“Are you ever going to forgive me?” he asks, voice low. The mood shift is so sudden I almost miss it, the lazy sex-haze thinning out to leave only tension behind.
I stiffen, then laugh it off. “Wasn’t aware you were still seeking forgiveness,” I say, twisting in his grip to face him.
He lets go, but not before pulling me in for another kiss. This one’s different. Less playful, more desperate, like he’s trying to prove something with it. I break away before he can deepen it, shoving at his chest.
“You keep acting like you’re some kind of martyr,” I say, “but you’re not. You’re just a dude who does whatever he wants and expects everyone else to be fine with it.”
He flinches, just a little, but recovers quickly. “I’ve been trying, Ava,” he says, expression rawer than I expect. “You barely even look at me anymore unless I’m between your legs. You’re always studying, or hanging out with that Bryce kid, or sleeping in Ford’s room every other night.”
There’s a beat of silence, then I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should take that up with Ford.”
His jaw sets. “Maybe I will.”
“Good.” I step out of his reach, fighting the urge to smile in satisfaction.
That was easy.
Almost too easy.
“Thanks for the wakeup, by the way. It was… nice.” I toss the word over my shoulder like a grenade as I move toward the door, grabbing my sweater off the doorknob and pulling it on over my head.
