His broad chest, bulging arm muscles, taut stomach.
Jayden. Jayden. Jayden.
Our hands stay connected for the short drive to his apartment. It’s been ages since I sat in a car while he drove me somewhere. It takes me back to memories both real and imagined. If wedidgo to prom together, I would have sat in a passenger seat much like this, though in a far less luxurious car. It wouldn’t have mattered, though, because I would have been with him. Me in a stunning gown, him in a tux, our hands tethered while we fought the temptation to claw at one another’s clothes.
Jayden races into his spot in the garage, shoving the gear shift into park then racing around to my side of the car before I fully open the door. He hoists me over his shoulder and kicksthe door shut behind him, then marches to the lobby door. With a quick wave of his security card, we’re inside. He sets me down, glancing side to side as we wait for the elevator. His fingertips flit against my knuckles, and it takes severe discipline not to wrap my arm through his and cling to his body.
“We should take the stairs,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“We all take the stairs. We might run into someone.”
The elevator dings as I mutter, “Oh.”
For a moment, I forgot that what we’re doing is dangerous.
My pulse is humming, blood pumping so fast through my heart that I fear it might flood my system. I feel faint as the elevator doors open, but the moment we’re inside and alone, all of those fears dissolve in thin air. It’s just me and Jayden.
He shifts to stand in front of me, walking me back a few steps until my shoulder blades land against the aged wood paneling. He rests an arm on the wall above my head, leaning in slowly, his mouth hovering over mine as he teases me with a series ofalmosts.
“Jayden,” I say, my voice raspy.
He snickers, then nips at my top lip just as there’s a warning chime and the car stops at his floor. The doors begin to open. Jayden zips to my side and clears his throat, as if that wouldn’t be suspicious enough—my body flush, his hair tousled. Both of us panting. Thankfully, nobody is waiting when the door opens.
Jayden peeks out the doors then grips my hand once he ensures our coast is clear, and the two of us race toward the end of the hallway, doing a terrible job of not giggling like teenagers along the way.
“Shh!” Jayden hushes me as he punches in the door code for his apartment.
“Youshh!” I whisper back.
We’re inside his apartment in a half second, and Jayden flips me around, my back flat against the closed door the moment it shuts.
“Fuck, Colby. The way I want to taste you.” He growls into the crook of my neck, tossing his wallet, phone, and keys from his pockets and onto the floor. His hands tug at the hem of my shirt, gathering the coarse polyester into folds as he works it up my body. He kisses my neck, then my jawline, and briefly presses his lips on my mouth before guiding my arms above my head and slipping my shirt up and off my body. Cold air engulfs me as he steps back, and my nipples harden under the cotton bralette I wore today, never assuming I’d find myself in a position like this.
My cheeks heat as Jayden stares at me, dropping my shirt to the floor before bringing a palm to my cheek and looking at me with what I can only describe as wonder in his eyes.
“What?” I say, every self-conscious thought I’ve ever had piling into my mind at once. I lower my arms to cross my body, to hide myself.
“No, don’t,” Jayden says, shaking his head then holding out a hand for me.
I lay my hand in his palm and his fingers curl, urging me to step closer. He keeps me at arm’s length, though, his eyes continuing to rake over me.
“You’re beautiful.”
I suck in my bottom lip hard. It feels strange to believe him, but his tone and expression are so damn sincere. And then his lips turn up into the sweetest smile, his gaze roaming from my eyes down the length of my body. My insides warm.
“You’re embarrassing me,” I say, with a giggle.
He shakes his head, guiding me toward him as he walks backward.
“Why would you be embarrassed, Colby?”
“Because it’syou.You’re seeing me. Like this.” I glance down at my plain white bra, the snap-front waistband of my joggers, my black New Balance turf shoes. This is not how I pictured this in my fantasies.
“Let me tell you what I see,” he says, stopping at the large gray sofa in the middle of what is a rather bare apartment. I’d tease him about his poor decorating skills if I weren’t trembling and so turned on that I might orgasm from him simply looking at me.
He sits on the center cushion, scooting to the edge and directing me to stand between his knees. His hands move up my hips, then slide around to the front of my pants, his fingers slipping into the waistband, teasing me by crossing such a simple barrier. My breath stutters as he unsnaps the button. His gaze lifts to mine as he leans forward and presses his mouth just above my navel.
“So far . . . perfection,” he says with a sly grin.
