Authors: Ava Claire
“
I just knew we were abou
t to crash through the floor,” I
laughed,
remembering both of us freezing, worried any sudden movements would send us plunging to our death.
We pointed out different tears and frays and stains and accompanying story. He tapped
on a grayish stain on the cushion
beside me. “Remember this?”
I glared at him, the red in my cheeks
darkening. “No I don’t!”
“You had that all-nighter and your mouth was wide open, the side of your face floating in drool.”
I pinched him. “How many nights were
you
out here? That’s your saliva for all I know!”
"Nah," he said, shaking his head and sending water from the
tips of his dark hair flying. The droplets created
wet pin drops on the fabric. I didn't even know he was tracing my lips until it was too late and I went stiff as a board. My lips formed no words but the way they trembled said everything. Every part of me fluttered yet still I leaned into him. Like a flower leaning toward the sun.
"I'm going to kiss you," he said, every word crashing into me. "And then
I'm going to lay you across my
bed-" He paused as his fing
er grazed t
he plump curve of my lips. "-a
nd I'm going to do things to
your body that make you scream my name
."
Our lips collided as he claimed me, leaving me breathless.
I felt nothing but the warmth of his touch as we went to his bedroom and saw nothing but the amber glow of the candle aga
inst his
fiercely handsome features. There was no talking, only a flurry of my hands and his hands removing my jeans.
We kissed again, our tongues dancing wildly around each other. When he pulled back, he gave gave me a look so savage,
so vulnerable
that I imprinted it on my mind, never wanting to forget this moment.
“This,” he whispered, cupping my breast.
Tugging at the peak.
“Only this.”
His fingers found the heat between my legs and he dove in.
In and out.
Out and in until I was grunting and humping him.
I was so drunk off him that I didn't see him rearrange, his toned body adeptly moving until it was the curve of his arousal at eye level instead of the curve of his lips. I pulled it from behind its cotton restraints and as soon as I took hold of the base
of his cock
, he took hold of the lips of my sex, spreading them. His tongue, warm and hungry, danced over a
nd into my pink folds. There were
so many things I w
anted, needed to do to his cock,
but all I could manage was holding onto it for dear life.
The solid, hardened part of him that pulsed in my palm
w
as
as
writhing and alive as every new sensation that washed over me. That consumed me.
H
e rose up and eased onto the bed beside me, folding his arms behind his head, I snuggled up
against him
, my bones still vibrating.
Still liquid.
My eyes popped open when I remembered and I glanced down, spying his me
aty erection. T
he angry pu
rple head of him made me
clench with want.
I brought my lips to his ear. “I’m not finished and I have a feeling you aren’t either. We could do more.” I licked my lips.
“If you want.”
He turned his head, his lips covering mine.
Silencing me.
“Not yet.”
I twisted my lips to the side, disappointment coloring my face and slashing my vocal chords. “You
don’t want to have sex with me?
”
He perked an eyebrow, giving me a
n incredulous
look. “Do you see how hard I am for you?
Even when you’re talking crazy?”
I
cleared my throat, willing away the
goosebumps
as I propped up my head with a pillow.
“Then why not tonight?”
His eyes glittered with mischief.
“Because I want you to beg for it.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “There goes the pigheaded Chance I know and love.” I hitched a breath in surprise and froze when I realized I’d said the ‘l’ word.
And all amusement drained from his face.
****
The alarm cut through sleep and I tried to ignore it, even though my dream already slipped through my fingers. In it, I had a do-over and in those blissful moments after Chance and I were together, I didn't free
ze after I said the l word. H
e pulled me back in and wave after wave of pleasure crashed into my doubts.
But the feel of pleasure was being replaced by a mechanical stutter.
I popped an eye open and stared up at my ceiling
fan
. Last night when I wen
t to bed it was circling lazily,
but now i
t was just shuddering in place and
making an unhealthy humming sound.
I reached
for my cell, wanting to call maintenance before I forgot and as soon as my fingers wrapped around the cool plastic, I remembered. I turned to the door and I could make out the gruff lines of my father's face as he took in the room
for the first time
. He'd glanced up at the ceiling fan and shook his head.
"I don't know about this place, Cassie. It's a shoebox, the ceiling
fan's
about to go-"
I'd interrupted, reminding him it was within
my budget
and if the fan went, the complex would take care of it.
A twenty-four hour, seven days a week maintenance staff, on call to fix old
ceiling fans or any other maintenance-
ish
need that arose.
He’d grunted some reply that I couldn’t remember, but I did remember the bittersweet look on his face as he pecked my forehead and continued on the tour. I saw pride that I might actually be growing up after all and a fear that I didn’t need him. I wish I stood there for longer, let him have
his moment. Tell him that I’d al
ways be his little girl. But I darted off, on my way to find some cool amenity that would make up for a less than stellar ceiling fan.
I looked up at the shudd
ering thing. It had gone
from a maniacal spin that made me worry it was going to spin off its axis at any moment to a slothf
ul rotation every few minutes. Bu
t
it
never crapped out. Well, until now.
When my dad
wasn't around to give me a smug wink and cajole me into moving back home.
I swiped at the tear that dashed down my cheek, but it was too late. A tear b
ecame five and before I knew it, I was curled into a sobbing ball
. I was back in that pla
ce, where every time I said I
needed space to breathe, to become someone o
ther than
Rhyder
Woods
daughter,
played on loop. The hurt creased in his face, his heavy sighs,
his
brown eyes dark with disappointment. I'd take it all back--every fight, moving out--if I could just see him again.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed it away, willing the tears to stop. I pretended I believed my therapist's words, that there was nothing I could do. That it wasn't my fault.
I threw off my covers and moved to the shower. The screeching hot water pounded my skin and I leaned into the warmth, not shutting it off until I was
completely
numb. I brushed my teeth and pulled my dark hair into a bun. After I put on a pair of jeans and a maroon colored sweater, I was close to myself.
I swiped my
tote, full of books and
tablets,
then snapped my fingers when I realized I’d forgotten my B
ritish lit textbook.
When I daydreamed about the class,
I always imagined lining the crease of the book would make me think of English greats, but now, just being in the vicinity of it made me think of Chance.
Even though the temp had gone from steamy to sub arctic after I'd aw
kwardly told him that I didn't l
ove him, Chance still brought a smile to my lips. The goofy faces he held in all of his globetrotting photographs.
Still keeping that crappy futon even though he lived in a ritzy apartment.
The way he could make m
y body quiver with only words; w
ith only a glance.
"Quit it," I hissed futilely because it was too late. I was already remembering the feel of his lips pressed against mine. I was already getting chills remembering how it felt with his fingers deep inside of me.
I reached for the radio and swerved when I saw the time flashing back at me. 10:05. Five minutes into my British Lit class.
It couldn't
be right. I'd set my alarm and…and I had a breakdown t
hrowing a wrench in my effort to show Chance I was serious about his course.
I jerked in and out of traffic, trying to clear the last few miles to campus. When I finally careen
ed onto campus,
it was eleven minutes past ten.
I dashed from the car, speed walking turning into a bizarre gallop. I put
aside worry that I'd see Dr. Stark
and took the first stairwell, going up two at a time. I spun around th
e corner and pushed into the classroom
, the sound of the door banging again
st the door drawing every eye. But t
here was only one set that I was worried about. His caramel brown gaze settled on me and his lips bristled in disappointment.
"Miss Woods." I tried to not be offended by the cool, unaffected way he tossed my name out. "I believe this class starts at 10am, not whenever you decide to climb out of bed."
I gulpe
d, my cheeks betraying my shame and something else. Did I really look like I just rolled out of bed?
“I’m sorry I
’m late.”
“Oh don’t apologize to me,” he said in a deep, grandiose voice that filled the quiet room. “Apologize to your classmates, who managed to show their respect for this course by being on time.”
Apologize? ‘Respect for this course’? I knew he was angry, hurt about how I acted like associating him or us with anything remotely resembling love was unacceptable but that was between him and I. He had no right to publicly flog me for what went down between us in private.
My classmates murmured, a few snickers flitting about until he gave them a stern look. He turned back to me, pinning me in place. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
I opened my
mouth and closed it twice, his callous condemnation
robbing me of the ability to speak. I understood the need to not sho
w favoritism, but this was some sort of revenge.
And that pissed me off.
Just as I readied
a retort, he flung a hand dismissively at my desk near the window
. "Just take your seat. The class is finishing up a quiz on the reading assignment."
I hesitated, paling at the mention of homework. I'd completely forgotten. I quickly rocked to motion, not wanting to let him see
the lapse
and have something else to crucify me with.
I reached for the
stack of quizzes
as I breezed to his desk
, already feeling a little nauseous about the inevitable zero, but he put a
firm
hand over the papers.
"The quiz began at 10 am," h
e said scathingly. "You will receive
no credit."
I spun on my heel and ma
rched to my desk, the blood in my veins boiling
. He didn't even make
eye contact with me for the remainder
of the class.
I didn’t say a word,
practically daring
him to look at me so I could shoot daggers directly at his unfairly attractive body. Now that we were intimate again, focusing was damn near impossible. Even when he made me so ma
d I could snap a pencil in half,
I wanted to kiss him more. That thought was scarier than standing in front of the whole damn school as he chewed me out.
I stuffed my things in my bag
with relief when class ended
and tried to book it out of there, but he stepped into my path.
"A word, Miss Woods.”
I had a
crapload
I wanted to say, but people were still filing out of the room so I held my tongue.
“Another time, Dr. Crawford.”
One of the students looked at me, clearly surprised I was being so fresh. Chance’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m afraid I must insist.”