He groans and says, “You taste so fucking good.” Then lower, his voice scraping the softest part of me. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Heat flares along every inch of my skin. I want to disappear and also never stop being on display for him. I want to be his masterpiece, his muse, the center of every obsession in his head.
I reach for his jeans and fumble with the button. I need him inside me. I want us to burn everything down with the heat of our joined bodies.
But his hand closes gently over mine, stopping me. His touch is gentle enough that I could pull away, but I don’t. I just freeze, heart pounding in my chest.
“No,” he says softly. “That’s enough for now. Can I just hold you?”
It’s the last thing I expect. I’m so used to people always wanting more, always taking, always pushing, but Dorien just wants to hold me.
I slide off the table and yank my jeans back up. His arms are already open, waiting.
We collapse together on the tiny sofa in the corner and our bodies tangle together. He wraps himself around me, chin resting in my hair, arms a barricade against the world.
I fit perfectly against him. For the first time in weeks, I’m not cold. I’m not empty. I’m protected.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
AERON
Iwrap my clay study in damp cheesecloth and slide it onto the shelf in the Advanced Sculpture class. I was attempting to sculpt two dancers caught in a leap, bodies bending toward each other. I’ve redone it six times and it still looks like shit. The motion is kinda there, but it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. The only real art I create anymore is late at night when that magical white powder is flowing through my system.
I glance behind me. Dorien’s table is already cleared. He’s been doing that, just bolting as soon as class ends and not sticking around to talk with me like he used to. During class, he still talks art, but his attention drifts. This week he’s been glued to his phone as much as Carter usually is. Every time I glanced over he was texting with a focus that bordered on obsession.
Who’s getting so much of his attention lately?
Fuck it, people are outside of my control. All I can ever do is focus on myself because everyone else is only going to hurt me.
I grab my backpack and leave the classroom. Dorien is leaning against the opposite wall.
It takes me a second to say anything because seeing him is such a shock. “Hey,” I say.
“Walk with me?” He pushes off the wall and I nod. We fall into step next to each other.
“How come you never hang out in the basement anymore?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I shrug.
“What are you up to after this?”
I shrug again. What I want is to go home, lock my door, and let the chemical drip carry me away. It’s been three days since my last hit and my body is itching for it. “Errands,” I say. “Art supplies.”
“Think I need a nap,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s an open life drawing studio tonight, off campus. It’s fifteen bucks for students. Live models. You should come.”
My grip loosens on my bag strap. He’s been distant for a while and now he’s inviting me somewhere? I kinda expected him to finally ghost and get it done with.
But hanging out again would be good. I want to say yes.
My body wants something else, though. My nerves are getting shot so I need another hit (think I’ve lasted as long as I can).
“Thanks, but I’ve got stuff,” I tell him.
“No worries.” He doesn’t look bothered (which is both a relief and a small, familiar sting). “How about meeting up for Food Truck Friday this week?”
My shoulders drop more and I actually smile. I’ve been alone too many nights. “Yeah. I’m in.”
He gives me a half-smile in return. “Six,” he says and heads for the west exit.
