CHAPTER 47
“L ilia.”
The sound of my name drove me out of the black void of sleep, and my muscles jerked. On instinct, I prodded the pillow in search of my knife, and opened my eyes in a haze of confusion when I didn’t immediately recognize my surroundings.
The sound of moaning and movement had me turning over to see that Professor Bramwell had fallen asleep next to me.
Writhing on the bed, he seemed caught up in a dream, and when he lifted his arms over his head, tucking them beneath his pillow, the sight of him sent a throbbing ache between my thighs.
Jesus, the man looked hot even when he slept.
Meanwhile, I probably looked like a drooling Saint Bernard.
Had he been the one to say my name, or was it an echo of my own dream?
“Yeah,” he whispered, still shifting on the bed. “Tha’s it.” The slight slur of his words told me he was still deep in sleep. “T’ch’me, Lilia.”
I froze. Heated tingles scattered over the back of my neck.
He was dreaming of me ?
He turned his head away, and his stomach twitched, his hips grinding out a sensuous wave of unconscious pleasure. “J’slike that.”
My thighs clenched at the visual of stripping off my panties and climbing on top of him. With his arms tucked away, muscles flexing with his restlessness, he looked tethered and completely at my mercy. Like having a dangerous animal chained to the bed.
I trailed my gaze lower, over the dips and grooves of his carved abs, to the massive erection tenting his briefs, and God, my palms itched to touch him.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth imagining my hands on him, the ridges and veins slipping beneath my fingertips.
Don’t do it , my head urged. So badly, though, I wanted to pull it out and feel the weight of his cock in my palm.
A deep, masculine groan vibrated out of him, the sound slipping across my skin like rough hands, springing goosebumps.
Before I could stop myself, I slowly reached out, ghosting my fingers over one of his thighs—those powerful beasts he toned with his daily runs. Long cords of muscle contracted beneath my fingertips as I dragged them upward.
On a sharp breath, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I turned to see his eyes open, but heavy with sleep, as he stared down at me. Furious.
“What’re you doing?” he growled. “Get your hand off of me.”
Humiliation seared through me as I retracted my hand and scrambled for an explanation.
I hadn’t expected him to be angry . Surprised, perhaps, but not this.
“You …. You said my name. You asked me to touch you. I’m sorry.
” I turned over, wishing I could crawl into a hole and lock myself away, the mortification springing tears to my eyes.
I’m so stupid .
Minutes passed in silence, and I eyed the door, wondering if I should leave and go back to my own dorm. The decision took hold, and I sat up in bed, not daring so much as a glance at him. As I reached down for my skirt, I felt a grip of my arm.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Going back to my dorm. I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that.”
“You’re not going anywhere at this hour.”
Wrenching my arm free was futile against the unrelenting grip he had on me. “Please. This is embarrassing enough.”
A hard yank sent me crashing back to my pillow, and I stared up at him, frowning at the abrupt movement.
That predatory gaze devoured me like a hearty meal, the sharp anger from before devolving to an untamable carnality.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to lie next to you? It’s killing me.
” Another hungry sweep of his eyes and he licked his lips.
“I’ve been numb for as long as I can remember.
You’re the first thing I’ve felt in years, Lilia. All I want to do is touch you.”
“Then, touch me.” I turned to face him and reached out for his hand.
Brows pinched to a frown, he gripped my wrist instead, his jaw clenching. “Don’t,” he warned.
“Touch me.”
“No.”
I twisted my arm to get loose, a heated mix of embarrassment and frustration blazing across my face. “Then, let me go.”
His grip tightened, his nostrils flaring in obvious anger, and when I brought my other arm up to push him off, he swiped up that wrist, too.
Something inside of me snapped, and I wriggled to break free from his grip.
The strength in his arms proved true, as he held me with little effort or exertion, while I thrashed for freedom.
He gathered my arms together and, with ease, turned me to my side and dragged me against him, putting my back to his chest. Heaving breaths sawed out of me, as I lay trapped in his inflexible embrace with no chance for escape. Not a word spoken between us.
As I stared at the bookcase across from me, I took in the rigidity of his arms around me, the way they held me firmly. Tenaciously. And yet, how at home I felt in his embrace. Safe.
Another minute passed and his grip slackened.
His forehead rested against my shoulder, palm skimming down the length of my arm to my hip.
The slow, aching grind of his erection pressed against my ass left me fighting to breathe, as I squirmed against him in a silent battle of wills.
“This thing with you. It’s fucking me up.
” His voice shook as badly as the muscles in his arms that held me against him like a steel cage.
“You’re a sickness inside of me that begs never to be cured.
Infecting me with this unshakable craving for things I shouldn’t want. ”
“Then, let me go .”
“No,” he said in an uncompromising tone, his fingers digging into my hips. “I can’t.”
Without a word, I slipped my shorts off, leaving my panties as the only barrier.
As toxic as it was, I relished this game between us, the push and pull, the stolen touches and delicious tension. I knew it was wrong. I knew what hell this would bring.
If anyone found out about us, I’d lose everything and would be forced to return to Conner and Angelo and the life I fucking hated.
I’d be forced to abandon however close I’d gotten to finding out the truth about my mother.
Bee would undoubtedly get kicked out of her school, and God, if she’d ever caught wind of why, she’d hate me.
I’d hate me, too.
And the consequences didn’t end there. Bramwell could lose his position, and what then? Would the project go on? Would they continue to fund it, or move on and leave millions to suffer the loss of his discovery?
I knew all these things.
But I couldn’t help myself.
I both hated and craved the addicting way he’d hooked himself into my veins and fed me with this unbridled and reckless desire. It went against everything I was. Everything I believed. And yet, it was everything.
For so long, I’d been forced to bury that side of me.
I’d grown up too fast and had left the wild and carefree teenager in the dust. When my friends had talked about boys and going on dates, and getting drunk in basement parties, I was stressing over bills and how I’d take care of my sister, while clinging to a distant dream of getting out of that apartment.
On the outside was a smart and responsible young woman with a shit ton of potential, and yet, I yearned for the stupid girl who just needed a break. A moment of recklessness.
Bramwell was my moment. Even if he wanted nothing to do with me tomorrow and would cast me aside like leftovers, he was my greatest risk, and I needed to grab it by the balls and not let go.
Literally.
I slid my hand between my ass and his bulge, feeling his hard length behind his briefs, and his body turned rigid, hard like iron against me.
Hand covering mine, he silently halted my movements, and I waited to see if he’d throw my hand away and tell me to stop. Instead, he squeezed his hand over mine and shifted his hips, feeding his cock into my eager palm. A shuddering breath hit the back of my neck, and his teeth grazed my shoulder.
Victory surged on the wings of butterflies in my stomach. I bit my lip, smiling to myself as he relented some of his control.
With careful strokes, I massaged the erection sticking up out of his briefs, eyes widened as I took in the length and girth of the man, the way it strained behind that measly layer of fabric like it’d tear through any moment. Jesus. No wonder Gilchrist pined after him like a lost puppy.
“We need to stop. Fuck, I can’t do this.
” His voice held a raspy tension, and I would have released him right then, but his hand betrayed his words when it slid up the hem of my shirt.
A slow, taunting trail of his fingertips to the lace bra beneath, which he peeled back, springing my breast free.
“Tell me to stop, Lilia. I’m fucking begging you. ”
Opposite to what he asked, I wedged my hand down inside his briefs and stroked the stiff flesh that clearly begged for attention.
He hissed and rolled his hips in the motion of thrusting into my palm.
“You’re going to destroy me. And I won’t stop you.
It feels too fucking good to stop.” On a growl of frustration, he squeezed my breast as if punishing me for his lack of control, and I let out a moan, but the dominating grip of his palm felt so fucking good.
The heavy ache melted away with his kneading and stroking, and I arched into him with the relief of his touch.
His rough grip lightened as he ran the pad of his thumb over my nipple.
“Every inch of you is something new to explore. A new texture. A new curve. Sensations I’ve been robbed of for so long.
” In tiny circles, he painted an inescapable pleasure that left me in a dizzy lust. “Goddamn it, your skin is like fine silk. I could spend hours touching you and never tire of it.” With a nudge, he urged me onto my back and lifted my shirt up to my neck.
He peeled back the cup of my bra and bent forward, sucking my nipple into his mouth.