Chapter 20
DELILAH
Idon’t know what I expected.
Not this. The way his mouth felt like relief, or how I lost all sense of reason the second I got my hands on his stupid shirt.
I kissed him.
I kissed him.
And now we’re in his room.
The door’s still closed. My back hits it softly as he moves toward me again. His hands slide into my hair. Mine fists in the fabric at his waist. I’m kissing him again before either of us speaks.
It’s stupid.
Reckless.
So good I forget to be careful because this isn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. Not with Troy Hawkins, who’s perfect and loud and always in control.
And definitely not when I swore I wouldn’t be one of those girls who fell for the way he smiles.
But right now, I can’t remember why I was fighting it so hard. When he lifts my shirt off, I let him with a soft, involuntary sound—because holy shit, this is happening.
Even as my stomach tightens and my heart screams danger. He doesn't say anything. He just steps back long enough to look at me. His eyes trail over my chest, and it should make me want to cover myself but I refuse to hide. The way he’s looking at me isn’t greedy or cocky.
It’s with…awe.
He steps forward to kiss me again, his tongue gliding across mine deliciously, his hands sliding down to my hips as he backs me toward the bed. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, he pulls back just enough to ask, “Still good?”
I nod because talking feels impossible right now.
Slowly, he lowers me onto the bed. His hands never leave my skin as he follows me down, settling his weight against me. I inhale sharply at the contact, at the heat of him.
He kisses me again, tongue teasing the seam of my lips until I open for him. The kiss is deep and filthy and perfect, igniting a fire low in my belly.
His fingers skim up my ribcage, grazing the swell of my breasts before cupping them fully. I arch into his touch with a gasp, nipples hardening under his palms.
And I don’t want to stop.
“So good,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So perfect.”
My hands find their way under his shirt, mapping the hard planes of his back. I tug impatiently at the fabric and he chuckles low in his throat before sitting back to pull it off completely.
Dear god.
I knew Troy was muscular—I've seen him at camp enough times in just a jersey and shorts—but seeing him like this, defined muscle and smooth skin... It steals the breath from my lungs.
He watches me watch him, a knowing smirk playing about his lips. “Like what you see?”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re ok,” I squeak out. Damn voice betraying me.
He smirks as he leans down to capture my lips again as nimble fingers make quick work of my bra clasp. It joins our shirts on the floor somewhere as he settles back between my legs.
The first brush of his mouth against my breast makes me cry out. He hums in approval before sucking a nipple between his lips. My hands fly to his hair, fingers twisting in the short strands as heat floods my core.
He lavishes attention on one breast then the other until I'm writhing beneath him, hips canting up seeking more friction. He obliges by rocking against me, letting me feel how hard he is already through our clothes.
“Troy—” I gasp out. “Please.”
“What do you want, Delilah?” He purrs, trailing kisses up my neck.
“Touch me,” I manage to get out between breathy moans. “I need you to touch me.”
That smirk is back as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of both my panties and shorts and tugs them down my legs in one motion. Cool air hits my overheated skin making me shudder.
His hand slides between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds to stroke over where I need him most. I buck into his touch with a choked moan.
“So wet already.” He growls appreciatively. “For me.”
“Mmm. That feels really good,” I admit, voice cracking as his fingers circle my entrance.
He watches my face intently, gauging my reactions as he slides one finger inside. I grip his shoulders, nails digging into tanned skin.
“More,” I demand, surprising myself with my boldness.
Troy's eyes darken. “Whatever you want.”
He adds another finger, stretching me deliciously as his thumb finds my clit. The dual sensation makes my back arch off the bed.
“God, you're gorgeous like this,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire. “Spread out on my bed, telling me exactly what you need.”
His fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes my vision blur at the edges. I moan, loud and unrestrained.
“That's it,” he encourages. “Let me hear you.”
But then he's withdrawing his fingers, and I whimper at the loss. Before I can protest, he's sliding down my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my stomach, my hipbones.
“I want to taste you,” he says, settling between my thighs. “Can I?”
The vulnerability in his question catches me off guard. This is Troy Hawkins—campus king, never uncertain about anything. Yet here he is, looking up at me with those blue eyes, waiting for permission.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His smile is wicked as he hooks my legs over his shoulders. “Your body is fucking magnificent. I want to worship your pretty pussy.”
“Then stop talking and worship it!”
He chuckles but obliges, his mouth hot on me in an instant.
The first swipe of his tongue has me clutching the sheets, my head thrown back against his pillow.
Troy hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me open for him as he works me with his mouth.
“Troy,” I gasp, the word barely recognizable.
He looks up at me, lips glistening, eyes dark with want. “Say it again.”
“Troy,” I repeat, louder this time.
He rewards me by sucking my clit between his lips, and I nearly come undone right there. My hips buck against his face, chasing the pressure, the heat. One of his hands slides up to pin me down, the other working in tandem with his mouth.
I'm climbing higher, faster than I ever have before. There's something about the way he touches me—confident but reverent, like he's memorizing every reaction, every sound I make.
“I'm close,” I warn, fingers tangling in his hair.
He doesn't pull away. Instead, he doubles his efforts, adding a finger, then two, curling them just right as his tongue flicks relentlessly.
The orgasm roils around my body. My thighs tremble, my back arches, and I cry out his name. He works me through it, gentling his touch as I come down, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs. I collapse back against the pillows, chest rising and falling like I’ve run a marathon.
Troy presses one last kiss to my hip, then crawls up the bed slowly, lazily, like he’s got all the time in the world.
He rests beside me, propped on one elbow, looking way too smug for someone who just ruined my ability to form complete sentences.
“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face with the backs of his fingers.
“Define okay,” I manage, my voice hoarse and a little wobbly.
He laughs, quiet and low, and dips to kiss the edge of my jaw.
“Okay like… still breathing, still coherent, not filing a complaint with the student union.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” I mutter.
He stretches out beside me, arm slipping under my shoulders, and I let him pull me in.
“That was…” I start, but the words stall out. Too intimate. Too real.
Troy fills in the silence. “Yeah. It was.”
Neither of us speaks. The room’s quiet except for the hum of the breeze through the open window and the rush of my still-too-fast pulse.
Then, in typical Troy fashion, he breaks the silence with, “So, just checking… still think I’m an arrogant asshole?”
I nudge him with my knee, but I’m smiling. “Only on days that end in Y.”
He grins, smug and unbothered. “Charming and consistent.”
I nudge him with my knee, but I’m smiling.
“You’re exhausting, Troy.”
“You’re glowing.”
“You're imagining things.”
He turns, eyes tracing my face like I'm worth studying. “Not even a little.”
His gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You know, Greer, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure do say my name a lot when you're coming.”
“Oh my god.” I groan, burying my face in the pillow.
Did I say his name? Shit. I can’t even remember I was so lost in the moment.
“What?” he says, all faux innocence, though the devilish glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It's a compliment. I like how it sounds, raspy.”
I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “You're trying to embarrass me.”
“No,” he says, his voice dropping. “I'm trying to tell you I like that it was my name. That it was me.”
Something shifts in the air between us. A tension that has nothing to do with the afterglow of sex and everything to do with whatever this is between us.
I deflect, because that's what I do best. “Well, don't get too cocky about it. Your name might’ve slipped out but you’re still an arrogant asshole.”
He grins, playing along. “Says the woman who just came on my tongue.”
“That's—that has nothing to do with—" I sputter.
“I think it has everything to do with it,” he says, pulling me closer. “I think I've found the one surefire way to win an argument with Delilah Greer.”
I roll my eyes, but my body betrays me, arching into his touch as his fingers trace patterns on my bare hip. “You think you're so clever.”
“I think you're into me and my sexy smile,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. “And I think it terrifies you.”
I swallow hard. “I think you're full of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he admits. His hand slides up to cup my cheek, turning my face toward his. His expression shifts to something vulnerable. “But I'm also full of fucking feelings lately. For you. Have been for a while I think. And I don't know what the hell to do about it.”
My heart stutters in my chest. This was supposed to be simple. Physical. A way to get him out of my system. Not... whatever this is becoming.
“Troy—” I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss that's gentler than anything we've shared so far.
“Just think about it,” he says when he pulls back. “You don't have to answer now. But I'm not playing games here, Greer. Not with you.”
The sincerity in his eyes makes my chest twist painfully. I don't trust easily. But right now, with his body warm against mine and his eyes holding mine like I'm the only thing that matters, I'm dangerously close.
“I need a minute,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his chest to hide my face.
His arms tighten around me. “Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere.”
And he’s right. I am terrified because I kinda believe him.