I don’t give him a second to prepare or protest before I go straight for his lips. My mouth is already parted, and his is as well because I’ve caught him so unaware. His tongue is cool from the ice water he’s been drinking, and he tastes like spearmint and salt from the pretzel he’d been nibbling on.
I deepen the kiss, leaning farther into him and into the moment, my teeth tugging at his lip.
There’s a wolf whistle somewhere around us, and his brain finally seems to click on because the arm that had hung by his side circles my waist. Fingers dig into the soft curves there and I pull back quickly and breathlessly before the roles are reversed and he’s suddenly taken the lead in this little game of ours.
Panting, he looks down at me, and his tongue darts across his bottom lip where I nipped at him.
I turn back to the other couples. “I guess this means we have a real game going now, doesn’t it?”
CHAPTER 8
Bennett
I can taste her tongue in my mouth for days.
When we returned from bowling, Clover hardly spoke to me. She slept on the farthest edge of the bed, and I followed her lead.
The list of rules grows and becomes increasingly specific.
No trash can sharing.(I had been using the trash can on her side of the room to throw away my protein bar wrappers.)
No going to bed with wet hair.(She’d accidentally gotten my pillow wet. It also made the smell of her unbearably strong as I tried to fall asleep. It was inconsiderate.)
No sharing water bottles.
No sitting on the bed when there are index cards laid out in a certain order.
Clover is gone most mornings before I’m up, but I’ve gotten in the habit of waking up early to jack off in a shower stall and then going back to bed.
Maybe I’m a sick fuck, but sometimes she makes this noise in the middle of the night. It’s a soft whimper, and likely just a muted giggle or a failed attempt at talking in her sleep, but it’s the kind of sound that sends a rush of blood straight to my groin. I tell myself it’s biology and beg my brain to think of anything but her as I pump my hand up and down my dick. Every time I fail, the tailspin of self-disgust has me promising that next time, I won’t touch myself at all as punishment. Then it’s the next morning, and the pattern begins again.
On Fridays, Tex, Julian, and I have identical schedules. The three of us have business law in the afternoon and German 1 two hours later. It’s not quite enough time for us to go back to the town house and hang out, and today we have a quiz to study for.
I haven’t gone to the trouble of learning Clover’s schedule, but last Friday she was gone, so I take my chances and offer up the dorm as a hangout space so we don’t have to leave campus.
Julian wrinkles his nose as we step into the muggy, practically antique elevator. “Maybe we should have taken the stairs. Does this elevator shaft go to the pit of hell?”
Tex rolls his eyes and hits the doors’ close button.
We make it to our floor with a dramatic jolt, and Julian darts out as soon as the doors open, then clings to the walls dramatically.
“You expecting visitors?” Tex asks, motioning to the four girls gathered at the door to my and Clover’s dorm room.
I shake my head. “Probably Clover’s—”
“Guten tag, ladies!” Julian calls to them from up ahead.
And then I recognize them as the giggling girls from our German class who sit behind us.
Julian turns back to us, shrugging innocently. “I thought we needed a study group.”
“Really?” I ask Tex quietly. “So, he chose the four hot first-yearsbehind us—one of whom said she was inspired by Heidi Klum to learn German.”
“Julian only convinced us to take German so we could have a fully immersive experience at a Berlin sex club one day. I don’t think we’re exactly academics here, Ben.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Hey, the tall, shy one looks like Cortana fromHalo. I call dibs.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I remind him as he saunters toward them.
After I let us all into our room, I hurriedly make my side of the bed. Clover’s is already made, of course.
