I giggle because he’s not wrong. They’ve already had to call maintenance to replace a smashed door once because one of the guys was drunk and thought there was a bear inside. I don’t think they’re looking for a repeat of that incident.
“Guess we’ll just have to make out quietly, then, huh?” I tease, and he launches at me once again.
His lips go from the crook of my neck to the spot at the base of my throat that always makes me ticklish before he drags them up and over my jawline. Then, finally, my lips. I’ve kissed Calluma lot since that day in the hallway, but somehow, every time feels like the first time all over again.
Right now is no different. His lips move over mine as if they’re memorizing my mouth, and I slide my hands through his hair, tugging him closer like I’m unable to get enough.
And honestly, I’m not.
“Fuck, Clover,” he says as he pulls away. “You taste so good, you know that?”
“I taste like Diet Coke.”
He grins against me, nuzzling his nose to mine. “I think you might be turning me into a fan.”
I laugh. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”
“No, it’s true. It’s growing on me.”
“Hmm. Is it that or do you just really like kissing me?”
“I just really like kissing you, Clover.”
Then he does it again, this time his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I get lost in him, forgetting about everything else, like the biology test I’m supposed to be studying for and the article I still need to write for the school paper. I forget it all and allow myself to relish the feel of his body pressed against mine and his tongue doing things that have no business feeling so good.
I slip my hands under his shirt, loving the way his skin prickles beneath my touch, and lightly drag my nails up his back. He groans into me, and I do it again. Then he’s gone, wrenching his mouth away, his forehead pressed against mine.
“You’re killing me,” he says, his breath coming in sharp. “You feel good.”
“Me? You feel good.”
I reach up, needing to kiss him again, but he pulls away.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Need a minute,” he says like he’s barely holding on, which sounds ridiculous since we’re only kissing.
But that’s just how things are between us. Even kissing can feel like so much more. I’m sure it doesn’t help that we’ve not had sex yet.
Yes, we’ve been together for nearly a year, but we’ve been content to take our time. And, okay, maybe it also has to do with the fact that every time we get close, he pulls away. There’s always an excuse, and in the moment, they sound like good ones, then later, when I’m lying in bed, frustrated and needing relief, I can’t seem to find an actual reason we don’t go through with it.
Other than me.
“You know,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, “you could give a girl a complex if you keep holding out on her like this.”
Callum opens his eyes, pulling his head back to look at me. “Are you trying to pressure me into sex, Clover?”
“What?” I laugh. “No. I mean, yes. I mean no.No.” I say it more firmly this time, then shake my head. “I guess…I don’t know. I’m just trying to find outwhy.”
“Why what?”
“Why won’t you…you know, go all the way with me?”
His whiskey-like eyes darken just a shade, but it’s enough to have me swallowing roughly. Still, I push on.
“Is there…something wrong with me? Something wrong with us?”
“Is that what you think?” His voice is barely above a whisper and hoarse, like he’s been screaming at the top of his lungs for hours.
