She huffed out a small, frustrated breath. “But—”
I kissed her once more, but pulled back before it could turn into anything else. “Goodnight, Arabella.”
I turned before I could change my mind and crossed the walkway to my own front door. The second I was inside, my back hit the wood hard, chest heaving like I’d just finished the annual Rose City Rosé Run.
Fucking Christ.
My cock was still throbbing, straining against my jeans like it had a mind of its own.
I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
Virgin.She was a virgin.
I wanted her so fucking badly it scared me. Bent over her couch, spread open on my tongue, riding my cock until she was screaming my name.
But what if I hurt her? I didn’t know how to be somebody’s first. What if I pushed her too far, too fast?
I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. I’d waited this long for her, so I could wait a little longer.
Bella was worth it.
In the meantime, I knew exactly how I’d survive the night.
Upstairs, fucking my fist raw until I came with her name on my lips, until the ache eased just enough for me to sleep.
But even then, it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be until it was her.
Bella
Isat in the lecture hall, twisting the cap of my water bottle on and off, trying not to think about Bennett King kissing the ever-loving crap out of me for the umpteenth time today.
I’d kind of figured the guy might be a good kisser, but damn. It was the kind of kissing that made you forget your own name and reevaluate every lukewarm make-out session you’d ever tolerated before.
Top-tier, belonged behind a paywall kind of stuff—kiss premium, if you will—and I was more than ready to renew my subscription.
Which, frankly, only made the whole him pulling away afterward situation that much harder to stop thinking about.
It had been my own fault, though. As usual, I’d had to go and ruin everything by opening my stupid mouth.
I certainly hadn’t planned on telling him I was a virgin. It had just fallen out of me, clumsy and unfiltered, right after I’dliterallybegged him to kiss me.
Talk about going from desperate to emotionally unhinged in under thirty seconds.
I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned softly, earning a curious glance from the girl two rows down.
It had been three days of radio silence. No talking, no casual wave from the driveway. Nothing.
I kept replaying the entire evening, dissecting every second. Had I freaked him out? Did the whole virgin thing make himsee me as some fragile project instead of a woman who wanted to defile every inch of him? Or worse, did he regret the kiss altogether?
I had a whole new semester ahead of me, which meant new classes, new syllabus, and new group projects that would inevitably involve at least one person who never did their share of the work.
And then there was my honey business to push forward—label designs to finalize, market vendor applications to submit, and a batch of lavender-infused honey that needed jarring before it crystallized.
I’d just started feeling like I had my shit together, like I’d found the sustainable rhythm I’d been craving for years.
One earth-shattering kiss and I was back to second-guessing everything.
I hated how much I let this rattle me, how easily this one man had slipped under my skin. But mostly, I hated the quiet voice in the back of my head whispering that maybe he’d finally realized I wasn’t worth the complication after all.
