“Yeah.” Kristina blinked a few times. “Take your time.”
We went through the kitchen, through the door, and up the stairs to Shay’s bedroom. It was half mine now. I had a nice pile of clothes in the corner and grabbed one of my T-shirts to wrap around the ice bag.
I sank down on his bed and fell back, groaning softly. “Why did I do that?”
Shay went to his closet and pulled his shirt off.
My mouth watered at the sight. He was beautiful, and my eyes dipped down to that V. It dipped under his pants. And suddenly, I wasn’t feeling my hand pain at all. He crossed to sit next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. He lifted the ice bag to inspect my hand and grimaced. “How bad does it hurt?”
“Less and less.” I was focused on his lips, licking my own.
He looked up and laughed softly. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smoothed some hair back from my forehead and I closed my eyes, savoring the small touch. I reached up, sliding my fingers through his own. “You know, you had a pretty great game today.”
“You’re the one with the hurt hand.”
“Which was my choice. I knew it’d hurt when I hit him.” A different thought came to me. “You think I could get in trouble for that?”
“I highly doubt anyone would corroborate his side.” His gaze dropped to my lips and stayed. He murmured, huskily, “He can try to bring a case against a girl who was recently attacked on campus, especially with his participation in your friend’s rape.”
That reassured me. I grinned. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
He stood, ducking into the bathroom. I heard him rummaging through the cabinets and he came back. He handed me a pill before grabbing a water bottle from his desk. He opened it, handing that over, too. “That’s a painkiller. You should take it now or your hand is going to be killing you later.”
I swallowed it and then handed him the bottle, which he set on the dresser for me.
Instead of coming back to join me on the bed, he stood and looked at me. The hunger was full force in his eyes. It was growing the more he gazed at me. I felt an answering ache forming between my legs. Biting down on my lip, I said, “We seem to have a situation here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His head cocked to the side, watching me, and that hunger was positively emanating from him, but he didn’t move to me. He stayed there, even crossing his arms over his chest. I let out a small groan. Good God, he looked good.
I felt like I should point out, “You have an entire party going on down there, and they’re mainly here for you.”
“But?”
“But we’re up here, and I’m starting not to want to return to the party.”
He moved closer. “How’s that hand of yours?”
“Getting better.” I tipped my head back, gazing up at him as he loomed over me. I almost groaned. “Getting better and better.”
His hand touched the bed beside me, a knowing smirk in his eyes. “Yeah?”
I started to repeat what I said earlier, but his hand slid under my leg and I stopped on a gasp. The feel of him sent shivers through me, blasting my insides, and I bit down on my lip, groaning. His fingers tightened their hold, and his other hand slid under me. He moved me farther up in the bed, following behind and kneeling over me.
I let out a soft sigh. Hunger licked my insides, fanning the flame that only leapt for him. Running a hand down his chest, my fingers felt and lingered over every dip between his muscles. He really was so gorgeous.
It wasn’t that I forgot.
It was that he became better looking to me every day. It was startling some days, and when others reacted to him, I remembered it wasn’t just me. But he was mine, and I started grinning, thinking about how that came about.
“What are you laughing at?” His lips were almost on mine.
I curled a hand around his neck, falling down to the pillow and pulling him with me. His body came down, half-resting on me, and his lips instead moved to my shoulder. He grazed a kiss there, his hand sliding under my shirt and pushing it up as he sought out my breast. I almost groaned again when he cupped one of them, moving the bra out of his way, and his thumb began to rub over my nipple.
“I’m laughing at how much I hated you in the beginning.”
He sat up, his mouth moving over my shoulder to my neck. He trailed kisses down to my throat.
I raked my fingers through his hair, half-holding him there, and half-wanting to pull him up to my lips. I waited, my breaths becoming increasingly shallower and shallower.
“I don’t even know why I hated you.”
He stopped, lifting his head. He was so close, a whisper away, and I wanted to touch my lips to his so badly it was almost a physical pain. I still didn’t. I still held off.
“I think you hated me because—”
He cut himself off, and my eyes almost bulged out. I caught the sides of his face in my hands. “You can’t stop there. Finish what you were going to say.”
He shook his head, raising himself up again so he was almost towering over me. “It’s nothing.” He bent and his lips caught mine.
Oh—hmmm!
“No. I want to know.”
He didn’t answer, just opening his mouth and his kisses grew more demanding. His tongue slid inside, and as he began to take over, I was barely conscious of him pulling my shirt up until he paused. I moved back so he could pull it the rest of the way and over my head, then he was back. His lips fused with mine, and he worked at my bra. He slowed down, letting the bra straps slide down my arms and acting as a caress.
It worked.
Sensations trailed behind them until he tossed it to the floor, as well. His mouth moved from my lips—licking, tasting, nipping down my throat and between my breasts until he caught one of them in his mouth.
A deep groan ripped from me.
I was holding on to every touch and taste from him. His tongue swirled around my nipple.
I almost lost it, wanting to grab his hair again.
“Hmmm, no.” He sensed my thoughts and caught my hands. He pinned them down by my head, kissing and lavishing over my breast. “You don’t get to distract me.”
I laughed, the sound weak even to my ears. “You’re killing me.”
“Goddamn, not enough.” A low growl emitted from him, and I felt his teeth scrape over my nipple.
My back surged up, arching and pressing against him. He chuckled, but moved back down with me when I rested on the bed again. “Shay.” A half-growl from me. I began moving against him, locking my legs around his waist. We both had our jeans on, but I was wondering why. I ground against him, trying to evoke a response where he’d put us both out of our misery.
He laughed, his breath coating my breast. “You can keep it up, Princess. I’m still going to worship you.”
Princess.
I groaned. I wasn’t one for cute nicknames, but that one worked, and my ache just took on a whole other level.
I was growing more and more desperate. I could feel him. He was rock-hard and pressing against me. Lower his jeans, move aside his boxer briefs, pull my jeans and underwear down, and I could get him to sink into me. He was straining there, pressing right where I wanted him, but it was as if he wasn’t aware of his own needs. He moved to my other breast, catching it in his mouth, and his tongue and teeth assaulted me all over again.
“Shay.” I groaned, arching my neck up. A whimper left me.
A guttural scream was building in my throat. I felt it coming. It was going to tear free, and everyone downstairs would know what we were doing.
“Shay!”
He laughed, finally releasing my hand as his fingers stroked over my stomach. I trembled there, right under his palm, and he moved, so agonizingly slow, slipping one finger under my jeans. Then the other. A third finger. He moved them back and forth, tracing circles. It was torture, pure and simple.
“If you don’t do something with those fingers, I’m going to—” I was panting, lifting my head to look him in the eye.
He was smirking. He was so damned cocky, but I saw a wildness in there, too. It was laying on the outside edges, as if he was holding that back. I couldn’t endure this much longer. The need to touch him back was growing in me, threatening to overcome any control I might’ve still had.