“Zach, I literally can’t feel my legs,” she mutters, covering her face with one hand. “Please don’t hit me with emotional stuff too.”
Her voice is muffled behind her hand. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks wrecked, but so perfectly mine—it’s painful that I’m going to have to leave her.
I drop down to the floor before she can say anything else, brace one hand beside her head, and gently pull her hand away from her face. “Emotional stuff, huh?” I murmur.
Then I kiss her, slowly and deeply. Her lips part under mine, her breath catching, and I feel her relax into the pillows.
Fuck. I don’t want to go.
Her fingers wrap around my shirt, keeping me close. Maybe I will hide in the closet.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Zach!” Grace yells from the other side of the door. Whoops.
I smile against her mouth. “I’m sorry, Honeycomb, but I’ve gotta go.”
She groans as I pull away, and head to the door.
“Bye, Z,” she says quietly.
I give her one last look and reluctantly leave my girlfriend thoroughly fucked, lying on the pile of pillows, and still glowing.
As I walk down the hallway, girls stare. Maybe it’s because I’m still slick with Honey. Maybe it’s because we were loud as hell.
Either way, I smile.
Because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
And I’m not afraid to let the whole fucking world know it.
“Be quiet,” I growl at my phone, yanking the sheet over my head and burying myself in the darkness. It’ll stop, and then I can fall back into my perfectly good post-sex coma.
There’s more buzzing now. If anything, it’s getting louder.
“Ugh,” I grunt and reluctantly stick one of my aching arms out of the covers, blindly swiping until I feel the vibrating object in my palm. I drag it under the covers so I can turn it off, only to realize it’s a call.
Zach’s smiling face is on the screen with a green and red button underneath.
He’s not texting. He’s calling—probably to gloat about how much he wrecked me last night.
“Hey,” I answer groggily, tossing the sheet off my head because any chance of going back to sleep and dreaming about all the delicious things he did to me is well and truly dead.
“No FaceTime? What did I do to deserve such mistreatment?” His voice crackles through the line, but I can still hear his teasing tone.
“You ruined me,” I reply, which earns a hearty cackle from my boyfriend.
“Hardly. Come on, Honeycomb. Let me see you.”
I can’t say no to him. Not when he uses my nickname.
Rolling my eyes, I switch it to video and wait for his face to appear. When it does, I realize the mistake I’ve made. Dressed in a white tee and a backward baseball cap, Zach looks like the epitome of “awake.” Holding a large, iced coffee, he’s strolling around campus as though he didn’t dismantle my entire being in less than twenty minutes last night.
“Ah, there you are. Gorgeous as always.”
I scrape a hand across my face, pretending I don’t look like I’ve been steamrolled by sex and cheap pillows, and grumble at my boyfriend. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning?”
“Why aren’t you? It’s the start of a brand-new day. New opportunities and dreams await.”