I clumsily shift in my seat, resisting the urge to slide my hand down my pants and do some discreet rearranging. Or maybe to slide my hand down her pants and give her a birthday present to remember.
I do neither. The sounds of crunching popcorn and crinkling candy wrappers echo all around us, a blatant reminder that we’re surrounded by people. I try to concentrate on the opening credits flashing on the screen, but ten minutes into the movie, and my boner’s still going strong.
How long does an erection have to last before it’s considered bad news? Three hours? Four? No way this movie is that long, right?
God, I fucking hope not.
10
Grace
For the first time in forever, I’m not angry with Ramona for persuading me to go out on my birthday. I wanted to avoid all the fanfare by simply staying home, but she’d dangled Jason Statham under my nose like a little British carrot. We’ve been friends long enough that Ramona knows all my weaknesses—and exploits them at all costs.
But I owe her big for using Statham as a bargaining chip tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting next to Logan right now.
With that said, I’m still not sure how I feel about him. He didn’t make the best first impression when he raced out of my dorm that first night, but I can’t deny that his second impression was a screaming-orgasm success. So I guess he’s got a checkmark in both the pros and cons columns at the moment.
Make that two checkmarks in the pros department—because halfway through the movie, he kisses me.
Not a peck. Not a lingering caress of his lips. It’s a hot, tongue-tangling kiss that makes my heart pound harder and louder than the deafening explosions blasting from the screen. I lose myself in it, in him, in the skillful stroke of his tongue and the warmth of his hand as it curls around the side of my neck.
It isn’t until I hear chuckles from the guys on the other side of me that I remember where we are. I self-consciously pull away, and Logan’s heavy-lidded gaze rests on my mouth, which is wet and swollen from his kisses.
He leans in closer. “On a scale of one to ten, how much would you care if you missed a few minutes of the movie?”
I think it over. “Two?”
“Thank God.”
He tugs me to my feet. Since we’re on the aisle, we don’t have to shuffle past anyone, thus sparing ourselves and everyone around us that awful ‘scuse me, so sorry disruption that moviegoers hate. Still holding hands, we tiptoe down the steps. I spot Dean and Ramona’s heads near the front row, but neither of them notices us making our escape.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
All I get in response is a mischievous smile. He leads me down the dark corridor toward the auditorium doors, but rather than go through them, he veers left and turns the knob of a door I hadn’t even realized was there.
We’re in a closet. It’s pitch black and reeks of cleaning supplies, but suddenly Logan’s body presses up against me, and all I can smell is him. I gasp when his mouth covers mine, because I didn’t see the kiss coming. I can’t see anything actually. But I sure as hell can feel. The hard muscles of Logan’s chest straining beneath his long-sleeve shirt. The seductive coaxing of his tongue as it slips through my parted lips and fills my mouth.
I wrap my arms around his neck and eagerly return the kiss. In a heartbeat, he backs me into the wall, one muscular thigh thrusting between my legs. The unexpected contact triggers an instant jolt of arousal that spirals to my core.
He kisses me like he can’t get enough, sucking on my tongue like it’s made of candy. Then he cups my ass and yanks me closer, grinding our lower bodies together.
“I wish I could fuck you right here.” He growls the words against my neck before sinking his teeth into it, bringing a sting of pain that he immediately soothes with his tongue.
I hadn’t realized my neck possessed so many sensitive nerve endings. I’m on fire, every inch of skin prickling with awareness, tingling each time his lips travel over my feverish flesh.
My clit swells, aches, and the tension between my legs grows and grows until I’m shamelessly grinding against his thigh in a desperate attempt to ease the ache. I’ve never fooled around in public before, and the notion that anyone could walk in and catch us right now is so thrilling that my hips move faster, craving more friction.
“Oh fuck, keep doing that, baby,” he mutters. “Rub your * against me.”
Oh. God.
Dirty talk is…different. And exciting. And I’m so turned on I can no longer formulate coherent thoughts.
He kisses a path back to my mouth, his tongue plunging deep, mimicking the movements of his hips. If someone told me a week ago that John Logan would be dry humping me in a movie theater closet, I would’ve laughed my fool head off.
But here we are, and it’s frickin’ amazing. My clit throbs every time the seam of his fly presses into it, and either I’m completely misinterpreting the wild tingling in my core, or…I might actually come this way. Fully clothed, with no contact other than his thigh rubbing my…oh God, yep, I’m about to come.
A desperate noise tears out of my mouth, but it’s instantly swallowed up by another blistering kiss from Logan, whose hips rock harder, faster, until the knot of pleasure explodes in a rush of pure bliss that sweeps through me, buzzing in my fingers and curling my toes.
Logan’s head falls in the crook of my neck and he lets out a low grunt. Breathing hard against my skin as his entire body trembles.
“Fuck. That was so hot,” he groans a few seconds later.
His arms wrap around me, holding me tight to his rock-hard chest as we both recover, our breathing labored and our heartbeats hammering in unison. A full minute passes before he releases me and takes a step away.
My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I see him reach for a stack of paper napkins on a nearby shelf. His hand dips inside his pants before crumpling the napkin and tossing it in the wastebasket by the door.
Then he’s back, his voice husky as he brings his mouth to my ear. “Happy birthday.”
I start to laugh. I have no idea why, but this entire hook-up was so surreal that I find myself quaking in amusement, which elicits a deep chuckle from him.
“Thank you,” I answer between giggles.
His lips graze mine for one fleeting moment, and then he takes my hand and leads me to the door. He pauses in front of it, bowing gallantly before holding it open for me. “After you, gorgeous.”
Aw hell. Those three words turn my heart from a solid to a liquid. A warm, gooey pile of mush in my chest.
Well, at least I’ve figured out how I feel about him.
I think I might be crushing on the guy. Hard.
*
Logan
The next evening, I’m battling Tucker to the death in an intense game of Ice Pro when Dean wanders into the living room, shirtless and barefoot. He rakes a hand through his spiky blond hair before settling on the armchair next to the couch.
“Listen, I need to talk to you about the freshman.”
“What freshman?” Tucker voices the question even as his eyes stay glued to the screen.