23. Chapter 23
Once I’m dressed, I hurry to the living room to set up the study group materials. I’m in the process of starting up the laptop when Sam comes into the room. He waltzes in wearing his jeans and no shirt. I have to swallow down my racing heart as I think about having his muscular torso pressed against me only minutes ago.
When he doesn’t say anything, I flick my gaze up to find a sultry smirk on his face. “What?” I ask.
“I like that top.” His voice is full of grit, and it makes me squirm.
I glance down at my camisole, my nipples barely visible through the lace. “Sorry,” I say, and grab my tank top from the floor, pulling it on. “There. Better?”
“I wasn’t complaining in the first place.” He rounds the couch and picks his shirt up off the floor. “But that’s not much of a shirt either. Do you want another one? I have more.”
It’s a sweet gesture, and I want to accept, but all of his shirts probably smell like him and the last thing I need is his scent saturated into my skin more than it already is. “No, but thanks. I’m fine like this.”
“You sure are.” Joining me on the couch, he pats my thigh.
I whip my head up, my eyebrows furrowed.
“That was really fun in there,” he says, nodding toward his bedroom.
I snort and push his hand from my leg. “Yeah, well, now we have work to do.”
He chuckles, rising from the couch. “Coffee?”
Damn, that does sound good. “Yeah, thanks.”
I hear him in the kitchen, packages rustling and mugs clinking against the counter. Soon, the delicious aroma of hazelnut fills the air. My mouth waters as he returns with two mugs in his hands.
“So, what is your idea for this week?” I ask.
Sam dives into his plan for the presentation. It’s like Wheel of Fortune this time, and he’s already found the perfect spinner icon. We whip it out in no time, each of us downing three cups of coffee in the process. I’m certainly awake and focused by the time we’re finished.
“That didn’t take long at all,” I say, tilting my cup up to drain the last few drops.
“Glad the coffee was good.”
“Coffee is always good.” I set my mug down. “But now I’m going to be up until midnight.”
Sam’s lips curl into a mischievous grin, and he scoots closer to me. “I have an idea of how we can burn off some energy.”
I do a double take at his bobbing eyebrows, laughing. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Hey, no one ever said there was a limit.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t form any words. I’m a little flabbergasted at his proposition. I mean, we just had sex, and don’t get me wrong, it was fantastic, but are we really going to do it again? “I don’t know, Sam...”
“We don’t have to make it a big thing.” He leans in, putting his lips on my shoulder. “Let me fuck you on the couch.”
“What?” I pull away, my eyes widening.
He gives me a look like he’s offended or something. “I’ll still make sure you come.” The offense melts away to a saucy expression. “That’s my favorite part.”
Well, when he puts it like that, how can I not be flattered? But it’s still an outrageous idea, right? “You really want to have sex again?”
“Brynn, asking a guy if he wants to have sex again is like asking Isaac Newton if he believes in gravity. The answer is always ‘yes.’”
I laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “Okay, then.”
“Really?” The excitement on his face is adorable.
I nod. “I mean, why not?”
With a content moan, he wraps a hand around my neck and pulls my face toward his, stopping when our mouths are millimeters apart. “Leave the lace on this time.”
I spend the next two weeks in a haze of sexually fulfilled bliss. Sam started a trend of us having sex both before and after the presentation prep, and I have to say, it was a brilliant idea. In more ways than one. Not only are we both enjoying ourselves, but our daily interactions have become less tense.
For one thing, he’s actually speaking to me during lab, instead of just making snarky comments. For the last few months, he’s rarely consulted me on anything, unless it’s been a table project where we’re forced to work together. Mostly, he has stuck to talking to Maya.
I’ve never minded because I always found him infuriating, and her to be supremely annoying. I thought they’d be perfect together. Even if I did feel a strange prick of jealousy over it.
But now, Sam’s talking to me for nearly the whole two hours of lab time. He’s still technically not my lab partner, but he walks into lab with me, leaves lab with me, and checks his answers against mine as much as possible. It’s getting me the icy glare from Maya, but I don’t mind.
In fact, I’m finding myself enjoying his attention. Which is absurd, because I still hate his guts, but I think I hate him a little less. It’s both relieving and irritating at the same time.
I don’t want to like him. We’re rivals. We’re both vying for a coveted position at the end of the year, and I will be the one who gets it. No amount of his attention or mind-blowing sex is going to change that.
The Friday before Thanksgiving, Sam and I are wrapping up our study session and heading out the door. “See you tomorrow?” he asks.
I shake my head, an incredulous look on my face.. “Um, next week is Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah. So?”
“There’s no school Friday, which means no study group.”
Understanding dawns upon his features quickly followed by disappointment. “No labs either.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “So, I guess we won’t see each other for, like, almost two weeks.”
“I guess so.”
An uncomfortable silence settles between us, like disappointment clogging the air. Sam licks his lips. “Do you still maybe want to come over tomorrow?”
I jerk my head back. “So, now I’m what? A booty-call?”
“No.” He chuckles.
“Well, the reason we started this arrangement was the study group, and since there’s no study group...” I quirk my eyebrow in a pointed expression. “I’d be coming over to have sex. In essence, a booty-call.”
He takes his hands out of his pockets and crosses his arms. “We could order pizza and watch a movie.”
I frown, skeptically narrowing my eyes.
“I’ll lay it out for you, okay? I don’t want to wait two weeks to have sex again. Do you?”
My lower lip works its way between my teeth as I shake my head.
“Okay, then. You can come over at our usual time, we’ll do our usual thing, and then we can watch a movie instead of working on a presentation.” A sly grin spreads across his face. “Or we can spend the entire time fucking, which I’m also okay with.”
I scoff at his candidness. “A movie sounds good.”
“Shucks.” He snaps his fingers before winking. “See you tomorrow, Brynn.”
My name slides from his lips a little more tenderly than normal, but I don’t linger on it for long. “Yeah…tomorrow.”
Biting wind nips at my cheeks. I pull my scarf farther up my face to cover my nose. The walk to Sam’s apartment is only fifteen minutes, but today is brutal. Thirty degrees, gusty winds, and a cloudy sky aren’t exactly ideal weather conditions. I know Mother Nature is screaming at me to turn around right now, but I don’t listen.
I cup my hands around my mouth, blowing hot air into my palms. What am I doing? I mean, I know what I’m doing, but is it a good idea? This arrangement of mine and Sam’s is about making it easier for us to work together. There aren’t supposed to be feelings involved, and up until now, we’ve kept it strictly professional.
This feels like a date. Sandwiching dinner and a movie in between bouts in the bedroom feels like something a couple would do. Fuck-buddies, or fuck-enemies, whatever we are, should not simply hang out. The terms were clear. This blurs the lines, and I don’t like it.
But I do like the sex.
Too many variables rush through my mind, and it’s far too cold to focus on any of them for very long. I speed up my pace. If I freeze to death before I get there, the awkwardness won’t matter.
When I reach his building, I take the stairs two at a time, and knock on his door without a second thought. In fact, the only thought I have is to get inside and out of the freezing cold.
Sam opens the door, a pleased expression on his face, but it turns to shock when I push past him and into the living room. “Uh, yeah, come on in,” he says with a chuckle.
“Sorry,” I say through my chattering teeth. “I had to get out of the wind.”
“Did you walk here?” His tone is pure concern.
I give him a questioning look. “Yeah. I don’t own a car, remember?”
“You could’ve called an Uber.”
“For a mile drive? That would be a waste of money.”
“I would’ve paid,” he says out of the corner of his mouth before clearing his throat. “Do you want something to warm you up? Tea, coffee?”
“Coffee sounds great, thank you.”
“Okay, hang tight. Um, you can take off your coat. I have blankets in that basket next to the couch,” Sam says, pointing as he walks to the kitchen. “You want some Irish cream in your coffee?”
That would be a nice way to take the edge off. “Sure, that sounds good.” I reluctantly shuck my coat, laying it on an armchair that wasn’t here last week. “Nice chair.”
Sam looks up from the coffee pot. “Oh, yeah. I did a video call with my parents earlier this month and my mom was appalled by how barren my place was.” He laughs. “She sent me some money to go furniture shopping.”
“So you bought a chair and a blanket basket?” There’s a mocking tone in my voice as I grab the first blanket and wrap it around myself. It’s the thickest, softest, most comforting blanket I’ve ever felt in my life. “Actually, I approve of your purchases.”
“Just what I wanted, your approval,” he says sarcastically. He comes out of the kitchen with two mugs in his hands and a bottle tucked under his arm, setting everything down on the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure how much Irish cream you’d want.”
“Thanks,” I say as I take the bottle from him. Pouring a generous amount, I fill my cup to the brim. It’s so full, I have to lean over and slurp some off the top before I attempt to lift the mug. When I sit back up, I find Sam watching me intently, a fire in his eyes. I clear my throat. “I’m sure this will warm me right up.”
“No problem.” He shifts to lean his back against the arm of the couch, and blows across the top of his mug.
I take a sip, licking the delicious taste from my lips. “Mmm. This is really good.”
“Thanks. I don’t splurge often, but coffee is non-negotiable.”
“Glad you have your priorities straight.”
He chuckles and leans over to set his mug down. “Speaking of priorities, how soon before you take your clothes off?”
I nearly spit out my drink. “Excuse me? You literally just poured me a cup of coffee.”
He hikes a shoulder to his ear. “I’m eager, so sue me.”
“Plus, I haven’t warmed up yet.”
Scooting a bit closer, he trails his fingers up my thigh. “I could help with that.” He continues moving closer, practically crawling over me.
My heart races. Is he really going to start while I have a mug in my hand? Second degree burns are not the way I want to kick off this rendezvous. I shift back as much as I can without spilling.
His mouth curls into a devilish smirk as he lifts his arm to reach around me. Within seconds, a fireplace roars to life. I do a double take between it and him.
He sits back, waving a tiny remote in his hand. “Something else I bought with my mom’s money. Electric fireplace.”
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I do.”
A smile breaks across my face, and for once, it’s not sarcastic or mocking. It’s genuine. This entire interaction with Sam has been enjoyable. We don’t usually spend time together before we get naked, so I don’t ever see this side of him until afterward. And then, I chalk his amicable mood to endorphins. I can’t say I hate seeing it right now.
But that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
I lean forward to set my mug down, locking eyes with him. “I’m warm now.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” I hum as I crawl across the couch to him. His hands grab my hips, and I watch his eyes darken. Hovering my face an inch from his, I whisper, “But I want you to burn me.”