Not to mention that the sex was life-changing.
“Hey.” Drew’s deep voice came from behind me as I packed up my violin after my midday practice.
I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, armscrossed over his chest, highlighting the defined muscles beneath his Henley. My body responded immediately, remembering exactly how those arms felt wrapped around me, and what he would do with those masterful hands.
“Hey yourself,” I replied, a ridiculous smile spreading across my face. “What are you doing here? I thought you had class.”
“The professor canceled.” His eyes darkened as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Rory’s with Liam for another hour.”
The implication hung in the air between us, electric and charged.
“Is that so?” I set my violin case down carefully and met him halfway across the room.
Drew’s hands found my waist instantly, pulling me against him with an urgency that made my breath catch. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he murmured against my neck, his lips trailing a path that made me shiver.
“Show me how much,” I challenged, my fingers already tangling in his hair.
His mouth crashed into mine, and I melted against him, my back hitting the wall as he pressed closer. There was something thrilling about this—stealing moments in places we shouldn’t, the risk of discovery adding an edge to our desire. Each time with Drew was different, each touch revealing new ways our bodies responded to each other, but this desperate, almost frantic energy was uniquely intoxicating.
“Anyone could walk in,” I murmured against his lips, even as my body arched into his touch when his hand slipped under my sweater, fingers tracing patterns on my bare skin.
“That’s part of the fun,” he countered, his voice huskyas he found the sensitive spot below my ear. “But we can stop if you want.”
“Don’t you dare,” I whispered, dragging his mouth back to mine.
The practice room wasn’t ideal—too many windows, too many potential interruptions—but as his hand slid higher up my thigh, rational thought became impossible.
“Lock the door,” I whispered against his mouth.
Drew pulled away just long enough to turn the lock before returning to me with renewed intensity. His pupils were blown wide with desire as he pressed me against the wall, his body hard and insistent against mine.
We were only partially hidden behind a cabinet that was used for storage.
And I’d never been more turned on in my life.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. “About you.” He kissed that favorite spot of his where my neck met my shoulder. “About slipping my hand down your pants and feeling how wet you are for me.”
I moaned as his finger teased along the waistband of my pants.
“You are wet for me, aren’t you, Freckles?”
I used to hate when he called me that, but over the course of the last few days, every time he’d used it had been followed by mind-boggling pleasure. Now just hearing it made my panties wet.
“Why don’t you put that hand where we both want it and find out?”
He smiled and then his fingers slipped inside. He was no longer soft or teasing—he was going for gold.
I sucked in a sharp breath as he grazed over my clit andthen pushed his fingers inside my warm, wet heat. His forehead dropped to mine as he bit back a groan.
“Fucking hell, Harper. So fucking wet for me.” His voice was low and ragged with barely restrained desire. “You’ve got everyone on this campus convinced you’re such a good girl, but you’re not, are you? You love having sex in risky places, letting me touch this pussy as it weeps and begs for me. Do you know what that makes you?”
“N-no.” Although ans-word came to mind.
His lips grazed my earlobe as he whispered, “Made for me. Because baby, I love all those things too.”
I whimpered, but any words I could’ve thought to say disappeared in a haze of pleasure as he thrust his fingers in and out in a rapid pace, hitting that spot he’d learned so well in the last week. Stars burst across my vision as I bit down on his shirt-covered shoulder to muffle my cries. My orgasm pulsed through me in waves, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to feel his cock—something I was rapidly realizing I’d grown addicted to.
I fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pushing it up quickly in my desperation to feel his skin against mine. He grabbed the back of the neck and pulled it over his head, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor next to his feet. I couldn’t help but run my hands over the defined muscles of his chest, tracing the lines that had haunted my dreams. His skin was hot beneath my touch, and his heart was pounding as frantically as my own, but that didn’t stop my perusal. I moved my hands down to his six-pack abs. No wonder he loved to take his shirt off. His body was a work of art, and art deserved to be seen.
