Chapter 33 Reverie #2
Yet, here I am, still getting wet for him. It’s never enough, and that’s my biggest fear concerning this man. I cannot fathom a life of being folded into a pretzel and not needing realignment surgery. And then what? Needing it again in another decade?
He nips at my bottom lip with a light, sensual moan, as if reading my mind and confirming that’s exactly what will happen, and he will show no mercy nor make any apologies.
I’m doomed.
Especially because my natural response is to widen my legs to fit his body in between, prompting him to drop his knees to the floor and rise on them so he’s only a few inches below eye level.
Then, he runs his palms up to the crease of my knees and drags me closer to the edge of the bed with one, harsh tug.
I’m an idiot for hooking my legs around his hips and even more stupid for pressing my chest against him as I circle my arms around his neck, holding him to me tightly.
As a result, the kiss becomes more urgent, hotter, our tongues tirelessly clashing and our bodies leaving no room for air.
A groan vibrates my tongue as his hands frantically roam across my thighs to my ass, up my back, and down again. They’re relentless in their pursuit to curb a craving that cannot ever be satisfied. There will never be a moment when our touch brings completion—only more need.
“Fuck, I love you,” he growls into my mouth before diving his tongue beyond my teeth again, tasting an undeniable mirrored answer.
The absence of sound and physical manifestation does not mean it doesn’t exist, just as we cannot hear or see the smell of roses. But it’s there, as prominently as the oxygen in our lungs and the blood in our veins.
I can’t say the words—not yet—but I can show him by letting him drink my needy whimper before salaciously licking the roof of his mouth in a come-hither motion.
I can ensure he feels my body press further into him and my hold tighten, bringing him closer and kissing him deeper.
Nothing about my reaction is running away from him, even if my voice is.
One of his hands delves into my hair, which is—was—piled into a bun on the top of my head but is now beginning to fall around my shoulders from his tugging. The other grasps my throat, keeping me firmly held in place so he can ravage my mouth with a ferocity that lights my entire body on fire.
Our tongues clash with greedy whimpers, and I’m fully prepared to say fuck it and tackle him when a loud knock vibrates the door.
My heart flies up in my throat, and I rear back with a startled scream. My hand slaps over my mouth, eyes wide and heart pounding hard enough to bruise. Dread flinches, but rather than going backward, he surges toward me, getting to his feet and crowding over me, as if to protect me from a bullet.
Half of me absolutely hates him having that reaction—because we’re not simply two incredibly horny but normal college students interrupted from having sex.
Rather, we’re two deeply traumatized people who constantly feel like we’re under attack.
But that’s why the other half of me instantly wants to say those three words right here and now.
This man has tortured me for so many years, yet his gut instinct is to dive over me and put his life at risk without a second thought. Despite all he’s done, that reaction was Dread’s feelings stripped to their roots, and it was purely an act of love.
How could I not love him for that?
His door cracks open, and Rogue’s grinning face appears, like a demon emerging from the depths of a pitch-black closet.
I exhale heavily and quickly straighten my T-shirt so it’s covering me properly, trying to decide if I’m more relieved or frustrated. Dread, however, is clearly the latter. He straightens with an annoyed growl, and I’m positive he’s giving his best friend a death glare right now.
“You guys were just making out, weren’t you?” Rogue asks, pushing the rest of the way into the room.
Severen’s right behind him, and the second he clocks my and Dread’s expressions, he snorts. “You’re being generous, dude. It looks like Rev just got lip injections.”
All three of them turn to look at me, and I bristle beneath their scrutiny.
“How do you know I didn’t?” I snap, tempted to cover my mouth again. It’d only make me look guilty, though, and I refuse to give any of them the satisfaction.
I cross my arms defiantly, but also because I feel a little exposed wearing no pants or bra. I spare a glance at Dread, but it’s another mistake, because he’s biting his bottom lip and staring at me with utter pride over my swollen lips, like he’s eager to do it again.
“Are they also responsible for the state of your hair?” Severen asks dryly.
Shit.
I’d forgotten Dread was pulling it, and I don’t need a mirror to know I look fucking insane right now.
My cheeks burn, but I lift my chin, refusing to give them a reaction. “I woke up like this.”
A wolfish grin splits Rogue’s face in half, and he pointedly glances at the mattress while nodding toward it.
He might as well have told me the demon from The Grudge is sitting right behind me.
My heart drops, and I slowly twist at the waist until my rounded stare lands on the massive damp spot on the sheet.
Most of it hasn’t dried fully, so the pattern makes it very clear it wasn’t just a spill of water, but more like something…
splashed it. If I’m being honest with myself, it looks like a fucking dolphin used its flipper to smack the water repeatedly, and this is the result.
Mortification floods my veins, and my entire face feels like it’s on fire. It takes monumental effort not to stand and throw myself out of the window.
Yet, I redirect every ounce of stubbornness from my soul into my bones to keep my spine straight and chin hiked.
I face forward again, deliberately ignoring Dread’s stare, and sniff indignantly.
“Dread pees the bed at night. Super embarrassing for him.”
Rogue barks out a laugh, and Severen snorts. I risk a glance at Dread to find him shaking his head at me, though one side of his mouth is curled into a grin.
We all fucking know the truth, but if I have to choose between admitting to it or throwing Dread under the bus, I’ll put the bus in reverse and roll over him a second time, just for good measure.
“Well, on that note, you two need to get to the airport,” Severen says, grabbing the back of Rogue’s shirt and pulling him back out of the room.
I tighten my arms around myself, refusing to be sorry, even as Dread steps back in front of me and sweeps his palm along my jaw and into my hair before forcing my chin up.
Amusement swirls in his gaze, but he says nothing. Instead, he bends and presses a soft yet equally erotic kiss against my lips. He’s slow to pull away, but it’s still over all too soon.
He pauses a hairsbreadth away, darkly whispering, “I love you, Reverie Adams. Be a good girl for me while I’m gone, yeah?”
His stare is reverent as he swipes the pad of his thumb down my bottom lip, his gaze lingering there.
If I had the ability to breathe, I still couldn’t. He’s sucked all the oxygen out of the room, leaving me to choke on the carbon monoxide.
He bites his bottom lip and hums, a deep rumble low in his throat, as if he’s pleased with what he’s seeing.
Then, he lifts his eyes back up to mine.
He keeps them locked, and my heart thuds heavily.
I’m speechless and overflowing with butterflies as he retreats, grabs the handle of his suitcase, and drags it with him as he walks out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him, all before I relearn how to inhale.
Fucking… hell.
I really hate that I don’t hate him.
The last thing I’m expecting is Octavia sitting down across from me, a strange look in her blue eyes. I jump from the suddenness of her presence, my rounded eyes snapping up to her, heart racing and mouth parted in shock.
I’ve been sitting in the cafeteria, picking at my eggplant Parmesan pasta and scrolling mindlessly through my phone. Severen is finishing up his midterm, so I was instructed to wait here until he’s done.
“Uh… hi,” I say slowly, blinking at her.
I haven’t really seen her since I broke them up. We don’t have the same classes, and considering I have no friends on campus, we definitely don’t share those. So the few times I’ve seen her in passing, they always preoccupied her attention.
Truthfully, I’m unsure how I’m supposed to feel about Octavia. It’s great that she clearly doesn’t support bullying, but I know almost nothing about her except that she won’t take Severen back.
Which I do feel a little bad about, now that Severen and I are kind of friends.
“Hi,” she says with a sigh, her eyes repeatedly bouncing over my shoulder.
I resist the urge to turn and check over it, but I’m guessing she’s just watching out for Severen, since the doors are behind me.
She clears her throat and shifts awkwardly. “Sorry for the, uh—” She waves her hand around airily. “—rude intrusion. I saw you and noticed it was a rare moment you didn’t have a man breathing down your neck, especially the redheaded one, so I thought I’d seize the moment.”
I offer a tight-lipped smile. There’s definitely an undercover agent sitting nearby, watching my every micromovement. If I fart, he’d know, which is quite daunting. But I can’t tell her any of that, so I don’t correct her.
He arrived earlier this morning. As soon as Dread and Rogue left yesterday, I called Barry to ask if he could spare a highly trained killer or two.
So, he sent Creed, who’s currently dressed in blue jeans and a Nike sweatshirt, posing as a grad student.
Well, kind of.
It’s not the hidden gun he has strapped to him somewhere that alerts people, but his rather intense, intimidating energy. He’s honestly pretty hot, too, so I think most people can sense he’s dangerous, even if they don’t necessarily understand why.