She doesn’t answer right away. She just sighs. It’s low, breathy, and somehow still the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I’m fine, but we’re being too loud,” she whispers. “Everyone knows you’re in here, and if they hear…this… they’ll know what we’re up to.”
“And?” I growl. “I damn near came in my jeans the moment I touched you, Honeycomb. Let me make you see stars before that happens.”
Her mouth flattens in mock disapproval, but her cheeks flush. She likes it when I talk like that. I know she does.
“You might not care about everyone hearing you get me off, butIdo,” she says, her voice quieter now. “I live with these people, and they don’t exactly like me as it is.”
Her gaze drops, and something inside me twists. Honey was never built to fit in, and she shouldn’t have to. It’s not her fault that these girls envy her. For her money. Her beauty. For being mine.
I press my lips into the crook of her neck and grumble a string of curses I don’t mean for her to hear.
“Can we talk about how much I fucking hate this dorm?” I half groan, half plead. “You could be living with me. I finally got the house, Honey. We’d have a bed that doesn’t squeak every time I breathe, but instead, you picked this all-female prison block where blinking past nine is a crime.”
Her body goes still beneath me. She hates this topic. Always has. I’ve pushed it so much that she won’t even step foot in my new house. I know if I eased up, she might come, but wanting her in my bed has a way of overriding my restraint.
I nuzzle her neck, then brush my nose along her collarbone, trying to charm my way back into her good graces.
“You know why I picked it,” she murmurs, planting her palm on my forehead and pushing me back so I have no choice but to meet her eyes.
Her lips are puffy. Her honey-colored eyes are dark with lust. She looks like sin in my jersey, the kind of sight that wipes every rational thought from my head.
I grind my jeans against her center. Just once. So I can watch her breath catch.
“I know the reason you keep giving me, but it makes no sense.”
Without warning, I slip my hands under her and grab her ass, hauling her up against my torso before I drop us both to the floor.
Yeah. This again.
“Wait, wait,” she says, her arms flailing toward the bed. I lean down, letting her grab a few pillows before dropping them underneath her.
She knows the routine.
After a year of trying to fuck on a mattress that sounds like a dying seal every time we so much as breathe on it, the hardwood floor has become our unofficial sex spot.
“If I move in with you now, I’ll never get the full college experience,” she says as she purposefully plumps the pillows to create a makeshift bed. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m almost certain doing it this way is just as loud for her downstairs neighbor, but hey, she doesn’t know them, so they don’t complain.
I smirk. “So you’d rather let me fuck you into some pillows on a hard wooden floor instead of at my house in the awesome bed I bought with you in mind?”
Once they are fully fluffed to her liking, she pauses, then looks back at me from over her shoulder.
“Would I like a little more privacy when we’re intimate? Yes. But if this is the price of living on my own, out of your shadow, then so be it.”
I want to laugh because I can’t fault her. Honey has always been headstrong. Hell, it was one of the traits that drew me toher in the first place. I just wish she'd have a little flexibility on this one point since it would benefit both of us.
She karate chops the pillows one more time, then turns and rests her back on them so she can stare up at me.
Still on my knees, I laugh down at her. If she thinks she’s going to lie there like a pillow princess while I do all the work, she’s out of her mind.
I smooth my hands up her thighs before slipping them under the jersey and peeling the underwear off her in one quick swipe.
That’s better.
I sit back on my haunches, letting myself look at her. My jersey on her is a problem; the fact that she’s naked under it is a full-on threat to my sanity. She squeezes her knees together like modesty is still part of our vocabulary. Cute. Useless.
Yeah, she’s not getting away with being shy tonight. I’ve seen every inch of her, and I want to see her again and again. I rest my hands on her knees and ease them apart, the jersey riding up as I move closer. I lift the fabric higher for a full view and… fuck me.