Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
jason
I was early. Way too early.
I’d been drumming my fingers on the desk for the last ten minutes, watching the clock like it might suddenly skip ahead. Someone shushed me from a few tables over. I switched to bouncing my leg instead.
The plan had changed. We were supposed to go on a date tonight. An actual date. Dinner, maybe a movie, something normal that people did when they liked each other and wanted to figure out what that meant.
But Bennet had texted me right while I was at practice.
Can we do the study session instead? We’re behind on our work, and Stats is still important.
It had struck me as odd. Not wrong, exactly, just…unexpected. We’d spent last night tangled up in my bed, and now he wanted to sit in the library with textbooks between us like nothing had changed.
But Bennet wasn’t like other people. He was a little odd in all the best ways. Maybe this was just how he processed things. Maybe he needed the structure.
I could do structure.
Even if part of me wanted to grab him the second I saw him and kiss him stupid in front of everyone.
Five minutes before our agreed time, I spotted him coming through the library entrance. Backpack slung over one shoulder, glasses catching the light, hair doing that thing where it fell into his eyes no matter how many times he pushed it back.
I hopped up before I could stop myself.
He saw me and smiled a small, private smile.
I crossed to him and pulled him into a hug without thinking.
He hugged back, but it was restrained, like he was aware of the other people around us, the eyes that might be watching.
I pulled back and looked at him. His eyes had that soft thing going on, that glimmer that made my chest feel hollow and flutters rise to replace whatever had been there before.
Okay. So he wasn’t throwing himself at me in public. That was fine. I could keep it lowkey.
We sat down across from each other. Bennet started unpacking his bag, pulling out notebooks and textbooks and color-coded tabs like he was setting up a command center.
I tried to focus.
I really did.
But the reading lamp cast this warm glow across his face, and he looked so good. Nerdy and adorable and sexy all at once. The memory of last night kept flashing through my head. The sounds he’d made. The way his body had coiled around mine. The spot on his neck that made him gasp.
I shifted in my seat.
“I’m glad you could find the time to do the study session,” Bennet said, opening a notebook. “This is important.”
“It’s only giving me extra time to plan our date,” I said.
He went quiet. Not in a bad way. In that way where he didn’t know what to say and his brain was working overtime trying to find the right words.
“Okay,” he finally said. Careful. Guarded.
But his eyes gave him away. They lit up for just a second before he looked down at the notebook.
My heart lifted.
He started going through my last few assignments, pointing out where I’d gotten things right and where I’d gone completely off the rails. His voice fell into that teaching rhythm, patient and clear.
I kicked off my shoe under the table.
Then I let my foot find his leg.
He didn’t stop talking, but his voice hitched. Just slightly.
I slid my foot higher up his calf, slow and easy.
“So if you look at this section here,” Bennet said, and his voice was a little higher now, “you can see where the standard deviation…”
I pressed my foot against his knee.
He stopped mid-sentence. His face flushed pink.
“Go on,” I said innocently. “Standard deviation.”
He shot me a look, half warning, half something else. “You’re not paying attention.”
“I’m paying a lot of attention,” I said. “I need this attention aid.”
His blush deepened. He looked around quickly, like someone might be listening, then leaned forward slightly. “Jason.”
“Bennet.”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are,” I said. My foot slid higher, brushing the inside of his thigh now. “I’m learning all kinds of things.”
His breath caught. He gripped the edge of the table. “You’re impossible,” he whispered.
“You like it.”
He bit his lip and tried to glare at me. Tried and failed.
“Fine,” he said, and there was challenge in his voice, steel underneath the pink cheeks. “If it helps you focus, be my guest.”
My pulse kicked.
I liked this. I liked it when he got stubborn. When he refused to back down, even though I could see the way his breathing had changed.
“Deal,” I said.
He cleared his throat and looked back down at the notebook.
“As I was saying. Standard deviation measures the spread of data points around the mean. The formula involves…” His voice wavered as my foot slid higher, tracing the length of his thigh.
“It involves squaring the differences between each value and the mean.”
I kept my expression neutral. Interested student. Totally focused.
My foot moved with purpose now, feeling the tension in his leg as his muscles went taut.
“Keep going,” I said. “I’m following.”
He swallowed. “Then you sum those squared differences and divide by the number of observations.”
My foot reached the top of his thigh. I felt the heat there. Felt the way he shifted in his seat, trying to maintain composure.
“And then you take the square root,” he continued, voice strained. “Which gives you the…the…”
I pressed gently. Not too much. Just enough.
His words died. His cock throbbed hard under the layers of clothes and the pressure of my foot.
“Standard deviation,” I finished for him. “You take the square root to get the standard deviation.”
His eyes snapped to mine, wide and startled.
“I’m listening,” I said softly. “Promise.”
He exhaled shakily. “You’re…this is…”
“Unconventional,” I supplied. “But very educational.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”
“No one’s looking at us.” I kept my foot exactly where it was. “They’re all focused on their own work. Just like we are.”
“We are not…” He cut himself off as I moved again, just slightly. His hand tightened on the notebook until the pages crumpled. “Jason.”
“Tell me about variance,” I said. “That’s related to standard deviation, right?”
His jaw worked. “You know it is.”
“But I want to hear you explain it.”
His chest rose and fell. He was fighting to keep his breathing even. I loved watching him lose that fight.
“Variance is the square of standard deviation,” he said, each word careful. “It measures…” I shifted my foot, and he gasped, quiet but unmistakable. “It measures the average squared deviation from the mean.”
I could feel him even better now. He was so hard that it was a wonder he could keep going. Then again, it was a wonder I could keep paying attention, because this affected me just as much.
“Keep going,” I said. “You’re doing great.”
“I can’t…” He looked around again. No one was watching. But his face was flushed, his glasses slightly fogged. “We need to stop.”
“Do we?”
He was quiet, looking at the space on the desk between us. “Or, we could…”
“I’m listening,” I said.
He swallowed loudly, fidgeting in the chair so carefully that it was barely perceptible, but his eyes rolled and shut as the pressure on my foot grew stronger. “We could do the stats after.”
“Your place or mine?”
I pushed through the front door of the Bel House, Bennet half a step behind me.
“Stats study session,” I announced to whoever was listening. “Nobody disturb me.”
Chuckles rose from the living room. Taylor’s voice cut through. “Make sure to stay hydrated.”
More laughter.
Heat climbed up my neck, but I didn’t stop moving. And I didn’t look back.
“Don’t mind him,” I told Bennet as we hit the stairs.
Bennet didn’t respond. His breathing had picked up. I could hear it behind me as we climbed.
Down the hallway. Past the bathroom. Past the other rooms.
My door.
I opened it and let Bennet through, then shut it behind us. The lock clicked.
The sound seemed to flip a switch.
Bennet dropped his backpack. I barely registered the thud before he was on me.
His mouth found mine, hungry and demanding.
There was nothing careful about it anymore.
Nothing restrained. He kissed me like he’d been holding back for hours and couldn’t anymore.
Which, let’s face it, he had. And so had I.
Leaving him naked in my bed this morning had been one of the most difficult decisions of my life, believe it or not.
I groaned into his mouth and backed him toward the bed, hands already pulling at his shirt. His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping hard enough to sting.
Good. I wanted it to sting.
We stumbled. His legs hit the mattress, and he sat, pulling me down with him. I went willingly, straddling his lap and never breaking the kiss.
His hands slid under my shirt, nails dragging up my back. I shuddered and rocked against him. I felt him hard beneath me, felt the way he gasped when I did it again.
“Jason,” he breathed against my mouth.
I pulled back just enough to yank my shirt over my head. His lips were red and swollen. His eyes were unfocused and so full of want it made my chest ache.
“You drive me crazy,” I said.
He pulled me back down. “Good.”
His mouth moved to my neck, hot and wet, teeth scraping my skin. I tilted my head back and let him work, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He bit down gently, and I jerked, a sound escaping me that I didn’t recognize.
“There,” he murmured against my skin. “Found it.”
I laughed breathlessly. “You’re keeping notes now?”
“Always.” His hands moved to my waistband. “Can I?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He worked the button free, then the zipper. I lifted my hips to help, and he pushed my jeans down. He dragged my boxers, too, not wasting any time. I kicked them off along with my socks and settled back onto his lap, skin to fabric now, feeling everything.
“Your turn,” I said, reaching for his shirt.
He lifted his arms, and I pulled it off. Underneath, he wore a thin undershirt that clung to him. I traced the lines of his collarbones, his shoulders, the slight dip at the base of his throat.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
He flushed. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” I kissed him again, slower this time, tasting him. Learning him. His hands roamed over my back, my sides, and my chest. Every touch sent sparks through me.
I ground down against him, and we both groaned. The friction was perfect and not nearly enough.
“Bed,” he gasped. “Properly.”
We shifted. I rolled off him, and he stood long enough to strip off his pants. Then we were tangled together, skin against skin, heat and pressure and the slide of bodies moving without any rhythm.
His leg hooked over my hip. My hand slid down his side, over his thigh, pulling him closer. Our mouths met again and again, breaking only to breathe.
“Missed this,” I said against his lips. “Missed you.”
“It’s been one day.”
“Still.”
He smiled into the kiss. His hand moved between us, wrapping around us both, and my vision went white at the edges.
“Bennet…”
He didn’t say anything.
We moved together. Urgent. Desperate. Perfect.
His grip tightened as I thrust myself through his fist, rubbing hard against his cock. I could feel the slickness between us, precum dripping and mixing, covering his fingers as I worked hard to stay cool and make it last.
His breath hitched against my neck. I felt the shiver run through him, felt the way his fingers dug into my shoulders like he needed the anchor.
I kissed down his jaw, along his throat, and the hollow at the base where his pulse hammered. His skin was hot under my mouth, faintly salty. He arched into the touch, spine curving, head pressing back into the pillow.
My hand traced the line of his ribs, each one distinct under my palm. His stomach tensed when I brushed lower, muscles jumping. I watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut, the way his mouth fell open on a silent gasp.
His leg tightened around my hip, heel digging into the back of my thigh. The pressure pulled me closer, aligned us better. We both groaned at the contact.
“Jason,” he breathed. Nothing else. Just my name, strained and needy.
I shifted my weight, bracing one arm beside his head. His free hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. The tenderness of it made my chest tight.
Then his other hand tightened around us, both of us hard and pulsing like crazy. I shuddered, hips jerking forward. He made a sound, half laugh, half moan.
“You like that,” he said.
“Everything,” I said. “I like everything you do.”
His toes curled against my calf. I felt them flex, felt the tension in his legs, the way every muscle in his body was coiled tight. He was close. I could read it in the shallow rasp of his breathing, the flush spreading down his chest, the desperate way his hand moved along our cocks.
I kissed him again, slower and deeper, swallowing his sounds. His tongue met mine, and the kiss turned messy, all heat and hunger and the building pressure that had us both trembling.
My own body was strung tight, every nerve on fire, every touch electric. His hand moved, and I gasped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to press my forehead against his.
“Close,” I managed.
“Me too.”
We moved together, rhythm falling apart into something frantic. His fingers tangled in my hair. Mine gripped his hip hard enough to bruise. Our bodies pressed together with nothing between us but heat and friction and the desperate grip of his hand.
His breathing went ragged, and mine matched it. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it was unbearable.
Then his back arched, body going rigid beneath me, and I felt him fall apart, cum spilling over his hand, ribbons landing on my stomach and his. The slickness between his cock and mine grew heated, and Bennet’s hand moved faster.
The sound pushed me over the edge. I followed him down, vision whiting out, every muscle in my body locking up before releasing all at once.
We collapsed together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in tandem, cum and sweat spreading and smearing between our pressed bodies, cocks pulsing and toes curling. We breathed deeply, silently, not breaking this moment with unnecessary words. All we needed was right here and now.
And nothing could take that away.