CHAPTER EIGHTEEN DEAN #2
Something annoying tells me to close the distance and kiss him right here, but I banish the intrusive thought from my mind almost as soon as it registers. Instead, I greet him with a punch to the shoulder.
“Hey, how’d it go?” I ask Nick in Mandarin.
His eyes widen, and he gives me a surprised stare. “Uh, yes? Yes. Yeah.”
“I asked you how the test was,” I repeat in English. “God, your panicked face is so cute.”
I give him a shove to make it clear I’m kidding.
And I am. Mostly.
He sure is cute.
What’s even cuter is that he doesn’t complain. In fact, he dips his head and smiles, which is enough to make my fanciful heart flip and for me to forget how he’s supposed to be a friend.
A friend who I sink my dick into on a regular basis, who flirts with me until I blush, and who I’m bringing twelve thousand kilometers to my childhood home. For two weeks. To meet my parents.
It’s clear neither of us have a single iota of self-preservation, but I’m not going to be the one to call it out.
“It was fine,” he says, returning his attention to me. “I don’t think I’ll need your services next semester.”
“My services.” I scoff. “There’s no way you’re giving up on all of them.”
Keeping things very sexual helps keep things very casual. For me, at least.
He flashes me a cheeky grin. “Hey, I only meant the tutoring part. I think I’d die without the five-star services you give my big fucking co—”
My face burns as I slap a hand over Nick’s loose lips, averting my eyes from the questioning stares of everyone around us who heard.
With a grumble, I sling an arm around Nick’s shoulder when he bumps into me and drag him to the stairwell.
It’s mostly to skip the long line for the elevators, but when he backs me into the wall and presses a burning kiss to my eager mouth, I accept the direction he’s taking us in.
He’s been chewing gum, and I suck as much of the minty flavor up as I can.
The way Nick turns my brain off and replaces all of my thoughts with pure depravity, without fail, is downright addictive.
“Mmm, I was so horny during the exam,” he murmurs. “All I could think about was my sexy tutor teaching me about the weather.”
I pull back with a scoff. “Alright. I’ll remember to turn the weather forecast on if I want to rile you up. Jesus.”
He chuckles, pulling my head down and grazing my ear with his warm lips. “It’s gonna rain hard tomorrow,” he says in Mandarin. “But tonight, your ji ji is gonna rain—”
I lose it. I double over, laughing, and accidentally headbutt Nick in the process.
“I did not fucking teach you that word!” Somehow, I find the strength to jab a finger into his chest and straighten back up, so I can glare at his smug, smirking face.
“Do not call my dick a fucking ji ji. We aren’t twelve! ”
Nick pulls me close again. “I’ll call it whatever the hell you want me to, as long as it makes you take your pants off.” He keeps grinning, his hands traveling down my chest, along my sides, and landing on my waist. “Maybe I wanna blow you right here.”
Fucking hell. This guy is something else.
I roll my eyes and gently shove Nick into the wall, ruffling his hair for good measure. “You’re so impatient. If you’re like this during an exam, I don’t wanna think about how you’re gonna behave on the flight.”
Still feeling a tad feisty, I yank on Nick’s collar to pull him toward the exit, away from where people can eavesdrop on his horny blabbering.
He wiggles his eyebrows, undeterred, and I steel myself for something audacious as I push the exam hall doors open. “Okay, I was thinking about that—”
“During your exam?”
“Anyway, I can pretend to get, like, seasick or whatever, but the plane version, and I can make you come to the bathroom with me to assist. Then we can bang, join the mile-high club, and nobody will suspect a thing.”
“Nick. Come on,” I groan. “Do you know how small and disgusting an airplane bathroom is? Not happening. Just keep it in your pants for twenty hours.”
“Okay, okay. I was kidding anyway,” he says, his amused eyes shining at me and making my stomach go all loopy. “I’m just super excited to be traveling with you.”
Yeah, how can I not throw an arm around his shoulder? “Me too. We’re gonna have a lot of fun. The wholesome kind.”
“Whatever you say.” The asshole cups my butt right as we reach his building, and I make him walk ahead of me. That serves two purposes—it keeps my behind safe, and it lets me get an eyeful of his.
Our intimate energies are well matched. It’s just that Nick is unhinged and uninhibited.
Nick pretends to lock me out of his apartment when we reach his floor, like he always does now because getting on my nerves is apparently his way of having fun.
What follows is also par for the course: I pretend to get mad and drag him to his room by the belt.
I toss him into his desk chair, sending him rolling, and stand by the door while he steadies himself.
“Oh, now who’s the impatient one?” he teases, standing up. “Look away. I’m gonna get changed.”
He drops his pants and underwear before I have a chance to avert my gaze like he asked. I catch a flirty wink as he turns around, and my eyes lock onto his bare ass while he rummages around his closet.
“You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?” I ask needlessly when he bends down, still rummaging.
He simply shakes his body at me, which has the effect of riling me up even more. I’m a simple guy, and I'm not above letting myself get a little primitive.
Okay, maybe more than a little primitive.
“Huh, I can't find my pants,” he says, holding a pair of flannel PJ pants in his right hand. “Maybe I should just…not wear any?”
“I’d like that.”
He puts the pants on, depriving my greedy eyes, before throwing a ball of fabric at me. “Now you get changed. You aren't sitting on my bed with those dirty clothes that have been who knows where.”
I unfurl the thing he gave me, and I bark out a laugh once I do. It's a fucking headband.
“Yeah, that's right,” he says when I roll my eyes at him. “Strip down and get changed.”
“How am I supposed to wear this?”
His hands grab the fabric back and slip it onto my forehead. “Like this. Now strip.”
“I'm not your private stripper, and maybe I don't want to have sex right now.”
“Rude,” Nick mutters, turning back to the closet and tossing some shorts over his shoulder.
I live up to his descriptor by changing out of my jeans before he finds a shirt for me, and the sassy expression he scrunches his face into when he turns around makes my heart grow ten sizes.