20. Cecelia
TWENTY
CECELIA
There’s a very dim voice in the back of my head telling me this is a bad idea. And it’s getting quieter every second.
It’s just too hard to think about consequences when I’m kissing Solomon Barnes. I thought I knew what it would be like. After all, I’ve relived that brief kiss on the patio a million times since the party. But I can tell now that he was holding back that night.
Because this kiss? This is not Solomon Barnes holding back.
He’s kissing me like I’m his singular point of focus, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.
His lips are warm against mine, insistent and greedy, while his hand cradles the back of my head like I’m something precious to him.
His other hand slides down to my waist, tugging me closer, until we’re pressed so tight together it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin.
So no, I’m really not thinking too much about the consequences right now. Solomon is kissing me and holding me and it’s basically all I’ve wanted since I first saw him covered in punch at the frat house.
That image is the one to finally break through and give me pause.
He’d been so upset at that party, completely shut down.
The same way he’d been last night after seeing his mom.
The same way he’d been all day. I don’t pretend to understand exactly what’s going on when he gets like that, but it’s obvious he wasn’t in a good place before I walked in here.
Am I taking advantage of him?
On the other hand, he was pretty annoyed when Emery called to fuss over him.
I remember the exhaustion in his voice when he told me how tired he was of feeling needy, being taken care of.
If I stop this and check to make sure he’s on board—even when his every action is telling me that he very enthusiastically is—am I just doing the same thing?
His hand drifts from my waist down to my ass and the noise he makes sends my doubts scrambling. It definitely doesn’t feel like I’m taking advantage.
“I want to see you so bad,” he murmurs as his hand finds the hem of my t-shirt. “Can I take this off?”
It’s my turn to make an embarrassingly needy noise and he grins against my mouth. “Is that a yes?” I nod in assent and he slips the fabric up over my belly and God, it feels so good to have his big warm hands on my bare skin.
He goes still when my shirt is off. I’m not wearing anything fancy underneath—I rarely do, preferring to stick to simple triangle bras in comfortable fabrics.
But Solomon is staring at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
And then he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his glasses, presumably to get a better look, and I blush right down to my toes.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he whispers, voice rough. “For years, Cecelia.”
“Years?” I squeak out.
“Years,” he confirms, hands moving up to cup me over my bra. “And you’re so much better than I could have imagined.”
“Hang on.” I don’t want him to stop touching me but I need more details here, so I pull back a little. “Years?”
He nods, eyes still locked on my chest. His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes bright and wild, and a rush of warm power goes through me. He wants me. This beautiful, always so controlled man is desperate for me.
And apparently has been for more than just a few weeks?
“Years,” he says again. “Since I first saw you.” He lifts his head to kiss me again but I keep a few inches between us, still not able to quite wrap my mind around what he’s saying.
“When did you first see me?”
“Party your freshman year,” he says. “At the Zeta house. You were talking to Vega and Violet. You had a game that afternoon so your cheeks were all pink, the way they always are after you play.” His fingertips trail over my cheekbones. “It’s so pretty.”
I have no idea what to say to that. The fact that he noticed me way back then is kind of blowing my mind. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” I ask. “Did you know I was friends with Jay?”
“Oh, I knew,” he mutters. “Drove me fucking crazy every time I saw you talk to him.”
I gape at him. “I never had any, you know, romantic feelings about him.”
He shakes his head, eyes dark. “I wasn’t jealous. I mean, I guess I was, but not because I thought you were into him.” He smirks a little. “You’re obviously way too good for him.”
“Then why were you jealous?”
“Because he got to be near you,” he says simply. “He got to talk to you.”
“I would have talked to you, too.”
He presses a kiss to my jaw and doesn’t respond.
“Solomon—”
“I want you,” he says, pulling back to look up at me. His eyes are dark and certain, no hint of doubt. “And it’s not because I had a bad night or I need cheering up or anything else that might be going through your head. I’ve wanted you for so long, Cecelia.”
The intensity of his words sends my stomach plummeting to my knees in the most delicious way, like I just went over the hill of a really amazing roller coaster.
“I want you too,” I tell him, hardly recognizing my voice.
He groans a little and again moves to kiss me.
This time I stop him with a hand to his chest and he makes such an unsatisfied, almost petulant noise that I can’t help but chuckle.
“Your clinicals,” I tell him, already kicking myself for bringing it up. He’s so responsible that the reminder will probably have him putting a stop to this immediately—
“I don’t give a shit about my clinicals,” he says and that stomach swoop thing happens all over again.
“I know I should argue, but you’re making it really hard for me to care much myself,” I tell him.
Our eyes lock and it feels like my heart stops beating.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such naked desire on someone’s face.
And I know he can see the same on mine. We both want this. So what on earth are we waiting for?
We move at the same time, our mouths crashing together. His hands are back on my chest while mine find their way into his hair. He shudders against me when I run my nails over his scalp, so I do it again. This time he makes a growling noise low in this chest that hits me straight in the gut.
Now I’m the one desperate to get his shirt off, to get my hands on his skin. And holy hell does he look even better up close. The abs that Violet loves to tease me about are insane, actually. Like, almost offensive. Who has a right to look that good?
“Are you aware that you’re hissing at me?” he asks, voice laced in amusement.
“Your body is unfairly good,” I tell him.
He lets out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding over my bare skin, lighting me on fire. “Cecelia, you have no idea.”
The way his eyes are flashing as he looks at me makes me feel brave, so I reach behind me and undo my bra clasp. He groans so loud I almost laugh, but then his mouth is on my breasts and it feels too good to do anything except sink against him.
It’s shameless, the way I move against him, the way I kiss him with so much desperation.
I can’t seem to get close enough no matter how hard I try, and he must feel the same way too, because he suddenly moves and flips me onto my back on the mattress, his entire body spread out over me, every inch of me pressed against him.
It’s still not enough.
“Can I take these off?” he asks, moving down to grip the waistband of my track pants.
“I’ll be so pissed at you if you don’t.”
He laughs, the sound vibrating against my skin as he leans in to kiss me just above the hip.
Then he’s sliding my pants off, cursing to himself as his hands move against my thighs.
Not wanting to wait for him to ask if he can take off my underwear, I shimmy out of them, and his cursing gets even louder.
“Fuck, Cecelia,” he mutters, kneeling on the mattress and staring down at me. “You’re so…” he shakes his head, his eyes looking wild, and a little thrill goes through me to know I’m affecting him like this.
“You’re falling behind, Barnes,” I tell him, patting the side of his still-clothed thigh.
“Of course she would make this competitive, too,” he mutters to himself. I’m far too busy gawking at him to respond because Sol is sliding down his sweat pants and I might just be dying.
“Come back,” I beg, reaching for him, wanting nothing more than to feel that delicious weight of him on top of me again.
But Sol has other ideas. His eyes are locked on my body, his expression both hungry and determined.
“Not yet,” he mumbles, moving down to lie on his belly between my legs. “First I need…”
Then his mouth becomes too busy to talk and nothing, nothing has ever felt this good.
Solomon has always struck me as a focused guy. When we’re working on something on the field or in the treatment room, he’s pretty single-minded. What had Jay said about him being obsessive? Something about Sol having “special interests” that he obsessed over.
Well, right now, I’m pretty sure I’m the special interest. Because Sol is using every bit of his focus and single-minded effort to make me feel good.
I think I really like being his obsession.
He takes me over the edge twice before he finally climbs back up the mattress. He hasn’t lost the wild look in his eyes, but he smirks a little when he sees the way I’m still panting.
“I’m not even going to be mad that you look so cocky right now,” I tell him. “You totally earned it.”
He laughs softly as he lowers himself over me, and I feel like my heart is going to burst. I’ve never had sex like this before—the kind where I feel this comfortable with the other person. The kind where we can tease and laugh and still be completely wild for each other in the next moment.
His face grows serious as he settles over me. “I want you. I want this.” He leans in and presses a hot kiss against my neck. “Do you want this?”
“So, so much Sol.”
He breathes out a shaky breath. “Thank fuck.” That makes me giggle, but my breath catches when he reaches for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a condom.
This is really happening.