“Oh, hi,” I squeak.
Zach just nods.
Wynter glances at us, the garage, the elevator floor, then she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, hi.” When she dashes out, I can hear her giggling.
At first, I grow tense. Thinking she’s laughing at me. At us. Atthis.
That she was being a Pi.
Then, I recognize that it’s not mean. It’s flustered. Giddy.
She peers back at us and, over Zach’s shoulder, I see her shoot me a wink and two thumbs-up.
I hate that my smile’s relieved as I peep at her over the hulking mass of Zach’s delt, but mean girls burn me a lot.
It’s kinda nice to know that my instincts about her track—Wynter’s not like that.
And then, my mind’s not on Wynter. On mean girls or kind ones. On sororities.
It’s where it should be—on Zach.
The minute we’re in the elevator, I’m being pushed into the wall again, and when his head angles to the side and his mouth is suddenly on my throat, a keening cry escapes me when he nips and bites the tender skin there. His tongue palpates it before he sucks, hard then gentle, interspersing with kisses that fill me with the best kind of tension.
Because tomorrow, he’ll have left a mark there, one I’ll get to study in the mirror and dissect the memory.
I angle my head back, giving him greater access, desperate for him to continue what he’s doing. In fact, I may never let him up for air again. I’ve read about this and seen it in movies, but I didn’t realize how delicious it is.
Then there’s the fact that his moans are the best soundtrack ever. I need a playlist commemorating each of them.
When the elevator dings, neither of us realize we’ve arrived at our floor until the doors close and we idle.
Ten minutes, hours, days later, through lips that tingle and burn and feel swollen and sensitive, I mouth, “I think we’re here.”
With a slow rock of his hips that hits all the good spots, he settles my feet on the floor.
Then steps away.
And when I reach for him, he avoids my hold.
A thousand fears rush through me.
Did I suck?
Did my breath taste funky?
Was I?—
“Zach?”
FOURTEEN
WET-SPOT-GATE
Something - The Beatles
I clenchmy jaw at the insecurity in her voice.
My immediate desire is to fix it but…
