16. Faith
CHAPTER 16
Faith
I watched as Dante pulled a condom from his wallet. I was really doing this. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation from my core, down past weak knees, ending at the tip of my toes. He stood and ripped open the packet. The dim light of the elevator cast a golden glow over his frame, highlighting his broad shoulders, defined pecs, ridged six-pack, and tapered waist. My gaze followed his hands as he unrolled the circle of latex. Why was he taking so long?
In an effort to speed things up, I slid my panties down my legs and kicked them onto the discarded jeans. Rough hands gripped my waist. Dante’s lips played against the curve of my jaw. His hips pushed into mine, and my bare ass smacked against the cold metal wall.
His lips nipped at the sensitive skin behind my ear, sending a shiver racing across my pebbled skin. I grabbed onto his shoulders, drawing him closer. A sense of urgency battled with my need to slow it down and savor each sensation. I’d need to be able to recall the details later. That was the whole reason I’d propositioned him in the first place—for research.
I closed my eyes, and the scruff of his whiskered cheek scraped against my collarbone. His head dipped lower, and he sucked the front of my bra, teasing my nipple into a peak, even through the thin fabric. The musky male scent of him enveloped me. I breathed it in, greedy, ready for whatever he had in mind.
His erection nudged into my abdomen. Eager to satisfy the need swelling inside me, I tried to compensate for our difference in height by pressing to my tiptoes.
“Not like that.” His voice rasped; the grit in his tone making my toes curl. “Turn around. Grab onto the rail.”
I spun around, compliant for a change. As my hands closed around the cool metal rail, he gripped my waist, pulling me toward him, stretching me backward. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze slid to the floor. His jeans pooled around his ankles. He nudged my feet farther apart. The sight of his bare legs so close to my backside made my legs quiver. He adjusted himself, and I felt him slide between my legs.
I leaned into him as his tip entered me. More, I need more.
His grip on my waist tightened. “Damn, you feel so good.”
I bit my lip and rocked back, letting him bury himself inside me.
He pulled out, then slowly entered me again. The fullness of him inside me made me desperate to move. I increased the pace, ready to ride the wave as it surged and came close to cresting. His hand moved around to tease me where I craved his touch the most.
Pure pleasure rippled through me. He shifted, and I lost my momentum. My hands scrambled to press against the walls, propelling me back against him. A hot exhale warmed my ear. I tried to turn, needing him closer, frantic for the feel of his mouth on mine. His arm closed around my waist, and my hand shot out, slamming against the elevator panel. The elevator lurched.
“Fuck!” Dante’s fingers fumbled with the button. The elevator stopped again.
Desperate for release, I focused on the feel of his finger as he stroked me to a climax. My body stalled, and for a glorious second, I hung, suspended in bliss. The strong arm around my waist held me up as my body shattered into pieces.
Dante grunted, pulled back one more time, and then let out a long, low groan as he reached his own release.
We stood still for several moments, his breath rushing across the expanse of my bare back, my clammy hands grasping the railing.
“You okay?” Dante asked, the gravel gone from his voice.
“Yeah, I, uh, wow.” Not trusting myself to stand on my own yet, I waited for him to be the one to let go first.
“That was hot.” His hand ran over my ribs, tracing the swirls of ink decorating the base of my spine. He gently pulled out and released me from his grasp.
I looked away as he dealt with the condom, then stepped into my underwear and jeans. “Where’s my shirt?”
By the time I’d located my t-shirt, Dante had buttoned his pants and pulled on his shirt.
“Looks like the trip down might take a little while.” He tipped his head toward the panel, and I noticed most of the buttons were lit up.
“Oh, crap. I’m sorry. My hand must have hit the panel.”
“It’s okay.” He reached around me and bumped the stop button. The elevator shuddered, then began to move. “Your tattoo. I like it. What kind of flower is it?”
Before I could respond, the door opened, and a group of underclassmen entered the elevator. Dante stepped to one side while I stepped to the other to make room. I slipped my arms into my jacket and slung my backpack onto my shoulder.
The elevator stopped at the next floor, and another group got on.
“Jeez, who pushed all the buttons?” one of the underclassmen asked.
Dante’s gaze met mine through the crowd of knit hats, ponytails, and baseball caps. Amazed that no one else seemed to notice the intense band of energy pulsing between us, I blushed and looked away.
As the elevator reached the ground floor and everyone filed out, Dante’s fingers brushed against mine.
I looked up at him. “They’re daisies.”
His lips quirked up into a slight grin. “Why daisies?”
“Daisies symbolize loyal love, they?—”
“You and your flowers.” He lowered his head and swept his tongue over his upper lip. “You know I’m going to run my tongue all over that ink next time.”
I raised my eyes, and his look dared me to deny him. A chill ran through me. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Both.”
I didn’t doubt he meant it. With a final glance at his teasing smirk, I turned and slowly walked away. The whole encounter had lasted less than ten minutes. But somehow, I felt as if my whole world had just shifted off balance. And I was a little freaked out about that.
Because I kind of liked it.
I struggled to keep my eyes open for the last five minutes of the Religion in Contemporary Literature class. Professor Wickstrom had asked me to sit in today, but his voice droned on and on. If only he could infuse his lectures with a little more enthusiasm. I patted my face with my hands, trying to increase the blood flow to my brain. Four more minutes.
“Before we wrap up for the afternoon, I have an exciting announcement to make. I want you all to mark your calendars. We’ll have a special guest lecturer next month. Go on, write it down,” he said, gesturing to a student in the front row with his pen. “Claire Kepner will be joining us to talk about her experience as a contemporary Christian author.”
I let out an audible gasp. Professor Wickstrom must have mistaken my shock for excitement. “Glad to see at least someone is excited about this. It’s not every day you’re treated to a best-selling author’s firsthand experiences. Faith, please prepare an introduction. You can introduce Mrs. Kepner that day.”
“Oh no, Professor Wickstrom, I couldn’t.”
“You can, and if you want to stay in my good graces, you will.”
I knew better than to argue with him. I’d let it go, for now. I snapped the cover of my laptop down and shoved it, along with the rest of my things, into my bag.
“You may want to wipe your nose there.” Murph sidled up to me, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“What are you talking about?”
“You had your nose stuck so far up Wickstrom’s ass, I think you got something on it.” He laughed at his own joke.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Very funny.” I slung my backpack over one shoulder and headed for the door. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Wickstrom asked me to sit in.” Murph caught up to me easily, taking one step to every two of mine. “So have you seen much of Dante lately?”
“Dante? Um, no. Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I was just wondering. You two seemed chummy.”
I reached up and adjusted my turtleneck, praying the fabric sufficiently covered evidence of my recent tryst with Dante. The thought of his body pressing against mine flitted through my head, and heat flushed my cheeks. “No. We’re not chummy, not at all.”
“Good. Then maybe you want to catch a movie with me later?”
“Come on, Murph. I told you, I don’t date.”
He looked down at his feet and kicked at something on the ground. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
We’d reached the student center, and I was eager to lose him so I could make a phone call in relative privacy. “Sorry, nothing personal.”
“Yeah, see you around.” Murph turned down another sidewalk. Probably off to harass some unsuspecting grad student. He was a nice guy, and I hated having to turn him down over and over again. But dating wasn’t an option. How many times would I have to say no before he’d finally accept my answer?