Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Liv
What’s the equivalent of female blue balls? Whatever it is, I’ve got it. In spades.
Because last night should’ve ended with Jay pinning me to my brand-new bed frame and making good on every tease, every look, every shiver he dragged out of me.
Instead, we spent two hours wrangling mismatched screws and instructions that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics.
By the time the last bolt was tightened, we both collapsed on the mattress like corpses.
Now it’s morning, sunlight spilling across the floor, and Jay’s arm is slung heavy over my waist. He’s dead asleep, mouth parted, looking disgustingly peaceful while my entire body hums with need.
Unfortunately, I have an early class, and I need to get up.
Which is absolutely easier said than done. His arm is like a damn anchor, solid muscle pinning me in place, not that I’m complaining, but I’m a busy woman.
I try a little shimmy, but his hold only tightens, dragging me closer against the heat of him.
“Jay,” I whisper, even though I know it’s useless. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t even twitch, just breathes into my hair like he’s never known stress a day in his life, and I’m his only source of oxygen.
I consider gnawing my own arm off. Or dropping out of college entirely. Both feel more achievable than escaping this bed without waking him.
Finally, I press a hand to his forearm, trying to lift it. It’s like moving a tree trunk. “You’re killing me,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to him.
And because the universe hates me, he shifts just then, his hips rolling forward in sleep, the unmistakable press of morning wood nudging against my lower back. Every nerve in my body halts, heat flooding me with a case of horny déjà vu.
This is cruel. Actually cruel.
“I’m pretty sure we went over this yesterday. My restraint will only spread so far, Liv.”
Oh god. He’s awake. And pressed against me. And still very much… armed.
I swallow hard, trying for casual even as my pulse hammers. “Well, technically I was just trying to escape your death grip, not test your… restraint.”
He shifts, just enough to make me bite down on a sound I’ll deny until I die. “Mm,” he hums, lazy and dangerous all at once. “Looked a lot like testing.”
“Jay,” I warn, though it comes out more like a plea.
“Liv,” he counters, lips brushing my hairline.
“Listen,” I say, pulling away with the strength of a thousand armies. “I’m so keyed up right now, and I need to get to class. Sadly, we don’t have time for sex or foreplay, and that is the worst part of all of this.”
I slide out of bed, frantically tugging whatever sweater I find over my head, and wriggle into my jeans. My hair’s a lost cause, but I run my fingers through it anyway while I try to find my bag, only to realize it’s in Jay’s room.
Behind me, the sheets rustle. I glance back, and sure enough—he’s still sprawled out, eyes half-lidded, one hand tucked suspiciously low beneath the blanket.
“Oh my god.” I spin fully toward him. “Are you seriously—”
He smirks, unashamed. “What? You look sexy in my clothes.”
Looking down, I realize I’ve put his sweater on and not mine.
“No, this is unfair,” I whine.
“You could always stay and help. Take off my sweater and…” He bites his bottom lip, and I groan, interrupting him, dragging both hands down my face.
“I’m a responsible adult, and responsible adults go to class, not”—I wave a hand toward him, still smug and half-hidden under the blanket—“stay home and make their roommates orgasm.”
“Pity,” he says, shuffling around until he’s out of bed and stalking toward me, looking like a damn snack, and ohhhh no, this is bad.
Very bad.
His hair’s a mess, he’s only wearing boxers where I can see far too much, and that sleepy, hungry look in his eyes could drop me to my knees faster than any religion ever could.
“Jay…” I warn, clutching at nothing, hoping to find a shield against his masculine energy right now. “I have a class.”
He smirks, still closing the distance. “And I have less than ten minutes to convince you to skip it.”
Ten minutes. My brain short-circuits. Ten minutes is nothing. Ten minutes is forever. Ten minutes is exactly how long it would take for me to ruin every ounce of self-control I’ve been clinging to.
I take a step back. He takes one forward.
The thing about me is, I can play the long and short game. I like to be teased. Delayed gratification is some kind of torturous foreplay, even if it means I’m spending all day thinking about him. And I think by the look in his eyes, he knows that.
“Okay, how about we make a deal instead?” he says with an unmistakable glint.
My chin rises. “I’m listening.”
“You let me take you out for dinner tonight, and then we come home and…” His teeth capture his bottom lip, and I’m tense all over, watching the movement.
I swallow hard. “And?”
His eyes fill with hunger and victory, voice dropping an octave. “And you can be the good girl that I know you are and let me spread you out on that new bed, and not stop until you’re begging me to.”
My knees actually wobble. Who says that at nine in the morning? Who looks like that while saying it? Who fucking knew my roommate had a filthy mouth? Color me thrilled.
He just grins, devastatingly handsome as he is, and he knows exactly what he’s done to me. “Go to class, gatinha. I’ll take care of the rest tonight.”
I spin toward the door before my brain convinces my body to do something reckless. Responsible Adult Liv barely wins this round.
But I don’t think she’ll survive dinner.
***
I tap my pen. Cross my legs. Uncross them. Nothing helps. My body feels like it’s suspended in a state of almost.
It’s unfair, really, to expect anyone to sit through a ninety-minute lecture on fifteenth-century plaster when they’re basically experiencing extreme horniness.
You did this to yourself. Remember the speech about loving delayed gratification?
By the time class ends, I’ve learned absolutely nothing about art history except that brushstrokes apparently make me think of Jay’s hands, ones I know intimately.
I pack up quickly, slipping into the stream of students spilling out into the crisp air.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when Dad’s name flashes on the screen, I swipe to answer.
“Hey, Dad.”
“My daughter is alive and well. Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
Guilt pricks—I meant to email him last week and didn’t. I meant to call him the week before, but I also didn’t. My dad worries far more than my mom does. “I know, I know. I meant to call, but—well, classes.”
He chuckles. “Classes or boys?”
I nearly choke on my own spit. “Father! I’ll have you know I’m an angel.” With horns, but what he doesn’t know…
“Alright, alright.” He softens. “So what’s new, kiddo?”
I bite my lip, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder as I weave through the crowd of students. “School is good, I’m loving it here so far.”
“And Daphne and Finn are taking care of you?”
I internally laugh at the fact that my dad was so innocent to all of the trouble we three got into when we were younger.
“I don’t see them as much as I’d like, but we’re all good.”
“And your roommate? You said he’s a friend of theirs, right?”
“Yep, he’s good,” I say, keeping it breezy. What I don’t add is good at bed-building, good at making me laugh, good at making me lose my damn mind before nine a.m. None of that is Dad-appropriate information.
I dodge around a girl carrying an overstuffed folder, the autumn air sharp as I step out onto the quad. “How are things going over in California?”
“Working hard, you know, the usual.” Truth is, I have no idea what my dad’s usual life is like in California, and I feel guilty about that.
I need to book a flight. “Actually, maybe you can help me with something. A friend of a friend asked about Cedar Lakes, and I mentioned that you go there. They’re coming to an open event in a few weeks.
I thought maybe you could show them around. ”
“Oh, sure… I might get Daph to come too; she knows this place better.”
“Sounds great. I’ll let him know, and I’ll email you the details of his daughter, you guys can girl chat or whatever.”
“Girl chat, Dad? Really?”
There’s a commotion in the background, and my dad’s laugh cuts off. “Gotta run, kiddo. Love you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
Then he’s gone, and I make a mental note to check out flights for New Year’s to visit him.
But now, I have to suffer through three more classes until I can be wined, dined, and satisfied.