“I can be quiet.”
“Can you, though?” I nip at her collarbone, and she immediately gasps. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”
“That's—that's not fair, you can't use tactics and then—oh?—”
“Then what?”
“I forgot what I was saying.”
“A+ so far.”
The way she laughs—breathless and delighted—sends heat straight through me. Every nerve ending suddenly very aware of where we're pressed together, how her legs are wrapped around me, how her fingers are tracing patterns on my chest that are definitely going to short-circuit my brain.
“Ethan,” she says, and just my name in her voice like that makes my blood rush south so fast I'm dizzy with it.
This is different from anyone before. With Paige, it was always about her—what she wanted, when she wanted it. But with Piper, I'm consumed by theneedto catalog every sound she makes, every shiver, every time her breath catches. I want to learn her like she's my favorite subject.
“You're thinking too loud,” she murmurs, pulling me back to the present.
“Just realizing something.”
“What's that?”
I frame her face with my hands, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “That I really, really like you. Like, an embarrassing amount.”
She smiles, soft and genuine. “Really?”
“Really.” I kiss her gently, different from before—slower, deeper, trying to say what I'm not ready to put into words yet. When I pull back, her eyes are dark behind her fogged glasses. “Can I?”
I reach for her glasses, and she nods. I slide them off carefully, setting them aside safely. Without them, she looks younger, more vulnerable. It makes my chest ache with how much I want to protect her, even though she'd probably knee me for suggesting she needs protection.
“Better?” I ask.
“Different.” She squints slightly. “You're fuzzy now.”
“I'll just have to stay close then.” I press against her, and we both inhale sharply at the contact. The friction is incredible and terrible and I need to slow down before this ends embarrassingly fast.
“You feel...” she starts, then bites her lip.
“What?”
“Ready for advanced coursework.”
I laugh against her neck. “Very ready. Possibly too ready.”
Her hands slide down my chest, stopping at my belt, and I catch her wrists gently.
“Piper, we should—we don't have to?—”
“I know.” She looks up at me, direct and sure. “I want to. Unless you don't?”
“Are you seriously asking if I want to?” I gesture vaguely at myself, at the very obvious situation happening. “I'm about to combust just from you looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you're about to eat me alive.”
“Maybe I am.” She pulls one hand free, traces the line of my jaw. “Would that be so bad?”
