24. Color Code This, Angel
24
COLOR CODE THIS, ANGEL
SOPHIE
A s we climb the stairs back into the frigid night, I lean against Liam, exhausted but happy. Even through my wool coat, the cold bites at my skin. The temperature must have dropped while we were underground; our breath forms little clouds in the moonlight.
“Cold?” Liam asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“A little,” I admit, pressing closer. He smells amazing—a mix of cologne and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. “Those catacombs really aren’t built for winter concerts.”
“Should have worn an extra sweater under that fancy coat,” he teases, but pulls me closer anyway. His warmth seeps into me as we walk to his car.
The drive back to Westchester is long and quiet, but charged with the sort of tension that makes my skin tingle. Every small movement from Liam sends electricity rushing through me—the flex of his hands on the steering wheel, his steady breathing, the way he occasionally glances my way when he thinks I’m not looking. The air between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
An hour later, we finally pull up to my dorm. When he kills the engine, the silence wraps around us like a physical thing.
“I’ll walk you up.” His words are a slow rolling thunderstorm, seeping into my bones.
At my door, I turn to face him, and the look in his eyes nearly stops my heart. The hallway is deserted, the only sound our slightly ragged breathing and the thundering in my chest.
“Thank you for tonight,” I whisper, but can’t make myself reach for the keys.
Liam steps closer, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. My lips part of their own accord, and I watch his eyes darken as they track the movement. He’s mouthwatering in a way that can’t be healthy for me.
In one fluid motion, his hands find my waist like they’ve been searching for me all night. The intensity in his eyes unravels me.
“You don’t need to thank me, angel,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, like he’s barely holding himself back. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop at just walking you to your door.”
My heart slams against my ribs as the tension between us builds, sharp and electric. My eyes drop to the impressive outline of his rock-hard cock straining against his pants, and my skin blooms with heat. He takes my hand and places it over his crotch, big and pulsating. I don’t pull away, and he lets out a ragged breath.
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can overthink them, feeling his hard heat under my palm.
That’s all it takes. I practically hear his restraint snapping like a tightly wound rubber band.
His hand tightens on my waist, and even through my coat, his touch burns. I sway toward him without meaning to, like he’s gravity, and I’m helpless to resist.
When our lips meet, it’s like every nerve ending in my body lights up at once. A small, needy sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. I drag my nails through his hair and pull him closer.
“You have class tomorrow, angel,” he warns, but then his lips slam into mine again with a groan erupting from his core. His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss.
And I forget how to breathe.
My fingers clutch at his shoulders, my body arching into his. He presses me gently against the door, swallowing my quiet moan. He tastes like possibility and danger and everything I’ve never let myself want.
He tugs open the button of my pants, pulling down the zipper and sliding his finger inside my lace panties. He quickly finds my clit, swollen and slick with my arousal, and rubs the pad of his finger over it. I whimper, rocking my hips and grinding against him, and he sinks his hand deeper into my panties, gliding his fingers through my wet folds. He flicks his tongue against mine, his mouth growing increasingly fervent.
My pussy floods with liquid heat, and my moan is muffled by his mouth.
“You are divine, angel.” He smirks, continuing to tease my entrance. “Let me hear you scream my name.”
“Liam,” I breathe against his mouth, pliant. A powerful orgasm tears through me like a tornado, and he continues stroking me until the tremors subside.
“I like it when you say my name, angel,” he murmurs, and the roughness in his voice does things to me I didn’t know were possible.
He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine as we both try to catch our breath. Looking into his eyes, dark with desire, I barely recognize myself. This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let hockey players finger fuck me senseless outside my dorm room.
He removes his fingers from my panties and licks them clean, looking me in the eye.
“Delicious.” He smirks, then presses his mouth against my neck. “Goodnight, angel,” he murmurs finally, voice wrecked. “I hear you have an early class tomorrow.”
I nod, fumbling with my keys like I’ve forgotten how they work. But before I slip inside, I give him one last look—and immediately regret it. Because the way he’s looking at me makes me want to drag him into my room and forget all about medicine.
After closing the door, I lean against it, my legs still trembling. My panties are soaked, my hair’s a mess, and my lips feel deliciously swollen.
What just happened?
The good girl who color-codes her study notes and hasn’t missed a single class since freshman year just let Liam O’Connor get to third base in a public hallway.
And holy hell, it was worth it.
My phone buzzes, making me jump.
[Jenna]: Sooooo... How was the concert? Did hockey boy hit any high notes?
I bite my lip, fighting a grin.
[Me]: Let’s just say his hands are talented both on and off the ice.
[Jenna]: SOPHIE NOVAK! You little slut! I need details! ALL THE DETAILS !
[Me]: I plead the fifth.
[Jenna]: Fine, keep your secrets. BTW staying at Marc’s tonight. His roommate’s gone home for the weekend.
[Jenna]: So if you wanted to invite a certain someone up...the place’s all yours.
My heart skitters. I glance at the door, knowing Liam can’t have made it far yet.
[Me]: Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?
[Jenna]: I’m suggesting you live a little! When’s the last time you did something wild?
About two minutes ago against this very door. I feel my cheeks flame.
[Jenna]: Look, you’re young, hot, and there’s a gorgeous hockey player who looks at you like you’re the Stanley Cup. Just saying…
She’s right. I’m young. I’m single. And Liam O’Connor just made me see stars with nothing but his fingers.
I stare at his contact info, my thumb hovering over his number.
I’ve never felt more like a teenager in my life.
[Me]: Hey. Random question...did you drive away yet?
The three dots appear instantly.
[Liam]: Angel, I’m still sitting in my car having an existential crisis about leaving you.
[Liam]: Also trying to figure out if cold showers come in portable form.
I laugh out loud, some of my nervousness melting away.
[Me]: So funny story...Jenna’s staying at Marc’s tonight
Three dots. Then nothing. Then:
[Liam]: Was that an invitation, or are you just torturing me?
My fingers shake slightly as I type.
[Me]: Depends. Do you want it to be an invitation ?
The phone rings immediately. I answer, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
“So,” he drawls, and just that one word sets me aflame. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Maybe?” I squeak. “You only live once, right?”
“Sophie Novak.” His voice drops an octave. “Are you propositioning me?”
“Is it working?”
“Give me two minutes to get back up there.”
“Wait, you haven’t even started your?—”
“Make that one minute.” I hear rustling, like he’s already moving.
I giggle, an actual giggle that makes me sound like a lovesick teenager. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you.”
My heart does a backflip. “Just get up here before I change my mind.”
“You won’t have enough time to change your mind.”
The line goes dead, and I press my hands to my burning cheeks.
What am I doing?
But for once in my life, I don’t want to overthink it. Don’t want to be sensible, responsible Sophie. I just want...
A knock at the door makes me jump.
I pull the door open to find Liam filling the doorframe, chest heaving like he really did sprint up here. His tie is loose, hair messed up from my fingers earlier, and the hungry look in his eyes sends liquid heat pooling between my legs.
“Hi,” I manage, though we’re way past polite greetings after what his fingers just did to me in the hallway.
He steps inside, closing the door with a soft click.
“Been thinking about doing this all night,” he growls, crossing to me in two long strides. His mouth claims mine as he backs me toward my bedroom, hands already working at my clothes. “The way you taste. The sounds you make when I touch you.”
“Yeah?” I gasp as his teeth graze my neck. My fingers fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. “Show me.”
He presses me against my bedroom door, one hand sliding up my thigh. “Oh, I plan to.”
“Big talk, O’Connor.” But my voice breaks as his fingers trail down my collarbone, making me see stars.
“Trust me, angel,” he murmurs against my throat, “I know exactly how to make you fall apart.”
This is what it means to be utterly, gloriously ruined.