MERRITT #2
A deep laugh rakes out of Bennett, and then I feel his warm, calloused palm curving around my wrists, softly tugging my hands away from my face.
“Then you’d be the hottest girl I’ve ever seen wearing that uniform and hat.”
“Have you seen how pale my skin is? I’d look ridiculous in yellow.” I feign a shiver and smirk.
Bennett laughs, and somehow, the knot in my stomach loosens, the sound putting me at ease in a way I didn’t expect.
If you would’ve told me six months ago I’d be sitting here with Bennett Legros, of all people, about to submit my law school application with his encouragement, I probably would’ve told you that you’ve done way too many mushrooms and are having a bad trip.
Impossible.
It’s crazy how quickly things change.
His shoulder brushes absently against mine, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how close we are.
On my bed.
In the middle of the night.
With me wearing only a ratty, old, oversized T-shirt and a pair of barely there sleep shorts. It’s the same thing I wear every night, but suddenly, it feels like I’m exposed.
The bright blue of his irises bounces between mine, and I drag in a shaky, uneven breath. I roll my lips together, and his gaze drops, tracking the movement. I watch his eyes darken as he stares at my lips, and my breath quickens in sync with my racing pulse.
This close, I can see the light freckles along his cheeks and the dusting of blond hair that covers the sharp edge of his jaw. I want to reach out and run my fingers along it before moving them to his hair.
God, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything the way that I want him.
It’s like this torrential wave of desire has washed in and taken over my body and my mind since that night, and now that it’s started, I can’t stop it.
Now that I’ve acknowledged my want for him, I can’t just pretend like it doesn’t exist.
I think I’ve probably always been this attracted to him, but I refused to let myself feel anything other than disdain toward him after what happened two years ago. Classic defense mechanism.
His throat bobs with a swallow, and the air around us crackles with tension I can feel in every cell of my body. Dragging his eyes back to mine, he rasps, “How about a kiss… for good luck.”
It feels as ridiculous as it sounds, but I still find myself nodding.
“Okay. One kiss,” I murmur, our lips nearly touching. “For luck.”
He drew the line in the sand, a boundary that I’m not going to cross unless it’s him who decides to cross it.
A shiver races down my spine as I feel the rough scrape of his palm along my neck, sliding up to my chin, where he uses his finger to tip it toward him, then slowly lowers his mouth to mine.
At first, the kiss is tame. Soft and unhurried, a brief press of our lips that feels much like the kisses we’ve shared in the past two weeks.
We’ve kissed twice since that night in his room, when I thought I might actually combust from the way his hands felt stroking down my spine, gripping my ass and rocking me against him.
Each one was before his game, but it was chaste and over far too quickly, even though it seemed like neither of us really wanted it to be.
But then, I feel Bennett’s tongue sweeping along the seam of my lips, and I nearly whimper. My lips part, and his tangled grip at my nape tightens, tilting my head for better access. His tongue plunges into my mouth, and he kisses me like he’s been thinking about it just as much as I have.
In a matter of seconds, everything is on fire.
My skin feels like there are flames licking at the surface, and with each swipe of his tongue, it intensifies, burning hotter and hotter, heat rushing through my limbs.
Kissing Bennett makes me want to be reckless.
Makes me want to hand over the control I’m always tightly clinging to, to let him take the reins.
One second, I’m beside him on the bed, and the next, I’m straddling his lap, and he’s groaning raggedly into my mouth, sucking roughly on my bottom lip and raking his teeth along the slope of my throat until I’m panting and writhing on top of him.
His dick is hard, nestled between my thighs, and each time I move my hips, the length drags torturously along my clit through the thin fabric of my shorts. My head swims.
I’m not really sure where this falls with his recent revelation, and it’s… we’re becoming more frantic and desperate with each brush of our fingers, each flick of his tongue, each sound that he wrenches out of me.
“Bennett,” I whimper, the words a breathless murmur.
His grunt vibrates along my throat, followed by the scrape of his teeth at the spot where my pulse is thrumming.
My eyes slam shut, and my fingers tangle in his hair as another moan tumbles past my lips.
His hand slips beneath the hem of my T-shirt, palm sliding up my stomach, skating over the cage of my ribs until it curves along the underside of my boob. The rough pad of his thumb sweeps along the hardened peak of my nipple, and my breath catches.
The feel of his skin on mine is intoxicating, like I’m high on a drug that could never be replicated.
He squeezes me roughly in his hand and pinches my nipple between his fingers, rolling and tugging until my toes are curling on the mattress.
I reach for the hem of my shirt, and we tug it off together, only tearing our mouths away to do it.
Cool, biting air kisses my skin, causing my nipples to pebble even harder into sharp, pointed peaks.
Bennett’s gaze roams over me, his pupils blown as he hungrily takes me in, and then a groan rips out of him as he drops his forehead to the center of my chest. I can feel his warm breath caressing my skin, which is decorated with goose bumps. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I roll my lips together, biting back a laugh.
“We should stop. I would rather take a hockey puck to the dick right now than stop, but…” He lifts his head, and those striking blue eyes feel like they’re branding into me. “I didn’t mean to get carried away. Fuck, I’m sorry, Merritt.”
I nod, giving him a small, reassuring smile. My lips feel swollen, and my body is buzzing, and God, the last thing I want to do is stop. But I don’t want him to regret getting caught up in the moment.
I don’t want him to regret me.