He freezes, eyes dropping to my breasts.
“Fuck, Lois,” he rasps. Then he arches me backward, covering them with his mouth. The sensation sends a wave of liquid heat ripplingthrough my body. It’s so intense I start to laugh, my giddiness melting into a deep moan. The idea of sleeping with anyone other than Kirk terrified me, but with Lane, all I feel is relief and hunger.
He pulls me up against him, kissing me with wild intensity, then he lowers his lips back to my breasts—sucking hard, tongue sweeping over my skin, teeth grazing until I’m lightheaded. My head is already dizzy when he flips me over and lays me down on the couch. I gasp as his body presses on top of mine. Tongues, mouths, hands—our bodies fuse into one, the whole world blurring into a fevered tangle of limbs.
I’m so swept away in a roller coaster of sensation that I dig my nails into his back, clinging to him like I might fall. I barely register the moment he tugs off my panties and slides on a condom. By the time his lips break away from mine, my heart is hammering in my chest and time skips a beat.
“Are you sure?” His voice is raw, strained. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“Please, Lane,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”
He curses under his breath, jaw tight. “Jesus, Lois… You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
We lock eyes as he positions himself between my thighs, the tip of him teasing small, maddening circles over the wettest part of me. My body arches toward him, desperate, but he takes his time, giving me one last chance to shut the whole thing down, only winding me tighter in the process. I run my fingers along his cheek, weave them through his hair, and tug him back down into a rough kiss. As his tongue finds my mouth again, my chest swells, and I think I might die with want.
His eyes are searching for mine, and whatever he sees must convince him, because he starts pushing into me, excruciatingly slow, stretching me inch by inch. It feels like every one of my nerve endings are lighting up. A strangled sound rumbles from his chest, mixingwith the sharp gasp I can’t hold back. He stills, holding there, every muscle tight and vibrating with restraint, checking if I can take it—if I want all of him. I nod desperately, words tumbling out between shallow breaths—a string of pleases, of begging. “I need you.” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he mutters, before he pushes into me the rest of the way in one hard, claiming thrust. The force of it knocks whatever air I had left from my lungs, and his own breath tears out in a rough growl. With one hand, he grabs my thigh, pressing it into his hip, and with the other, he laces his fingers through mine, pinning my arm above my head. We’re not even kissing anymore—we’re too winded, our mouths just pressed together, panting.
I can’t believe this is happening. Lane is making me feel things I didn’t even know I could. It’s like nobody ever existed before him. With every thrust of his hips, tears are springing into my eyes. Emotion rushes at me, my heart so tight I swear it could burst. I want to laugh. I want to cry. There’s so much I want to say to him, but all that comes out are ragged gasps. I’m drowning in the sweetest chaos and savoring every second of it. I never want this to end. I want to feel him inside me, again and again.
Lane doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t need to. His body speaks for him. He looks completely untamed. I give in to his touch, letting him take control. It’s like he’s unlocking whole new parts of me. At this point, all I know is Lane and the way he fills me. He’s so thick and so damn deep. It’s making my toes curl and my head spin. Over and over, he drives into me until I forget where I end and he begins.
My legs hold more urgently to his waist, feeling myself rise higher and higher every time our bodies meet, until my heart takes flight. Suddenly, my muscles clamp down, pleasure rippling through me in hot, helpless waves. I cry out, shaking, as my body clenches, release pulsing hard and gripping tight around him. He lets out a string oflow and filthy curses. His thrusts turn frantic, and it’s like he’s unraveling inside me, licking and biting and grabbing wherever he can reach. Then he slams in as deep as he can one last time, shuddering hard before pressing his body to mine, his breath hot and uneven against my skin.
We stay there for a while, our hearts pressed together, pulses beating as one. Then, slowly, Lane edges away, peeling off the condom. He rolls me gently onto my side and lowers himself behind me on the couch, his chest to my back. I lie there, staring into space, half expecting him to leap up and run again. But instead, he slips a hand under my arm and curves it over my stomach, nestling close without a word. Our bare skin touches in a way that feels so very right. He noses at the back of my neck, then gently sweeps my hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear.
What is he thinking? I could guess, but I’m too scared of getting it wrong—and though all I have to do is ask, I can’t seem to find the words.
“Do you really like the dorm? Genuinely?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.
I blink, curling my toes. I’m too scared to look around at him.
“It’s not bad,” I try.
“You could do better.”
Yeah. I could have that spare room you never told me about.
“What if you…”
I stiffen, desperate for him to finish the question.
He strokes my tummy, tracing my belly button, feeling his way to my foot with his toes.
“There’ll be more choice in August. You could…”
He freezes mid-sentence, and my pulse is racing. I grip the cushion tighter, holding on for dear life.
“I could what?” I’m practically begging now.
“You could stay.”
My heart is hammering so fast I can hardly think, a rush of bloodto my head, my cheeks on fire. I squeeze my eyes tight, clamp my lips shut, willing myself to keep it together. I’m stupid-happy right now, and I feel something else, too—something I don’t want to examine just yet.
“You want me to stick around?”
I need to double-check—make sure this isn’t a dream. He nods. Just the once. I’m so happy I want to throw myself at his feet, but instead I force my muscles still, relishing the words I had stopped hoping he would ever say. I don’t want him to realize how touched I am.
