His words tore at my heart. I put my hand over his lips. “I know. I feel the same way. But I want to kiss you. Without anyone watching. No audience. Just me and you.”
He nodded and cradled my face, staring at me like he was terrified he was going to fuck it up. He gazed into my eyes until the very air buzzed. Soft and slow, he pressed his lips to mine, inhaling me as if I was the finest Belgian chocolate he’d ever tasted and he’d never get another piece. A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist, and I was gone. Butterflies went crazy. Our kiss was pure, unadulterated magic, making me powerless in his arms. He was gut-twistingly perfect, and I wanted to drown in him. I didn’t need air. All I needed was Max Kent and his lips and tongue.
We sank down onto the bed together. His tongue traced mine, and my body yearned to give him everything.
We kissed. Over and over, learning each other, sighing, our breaths mingling.
In between kisses, we talked about our dreams. He wanted to live in New York someday and have a wife and a whole house full of kids. He told me about growing up alone without relatives or siblings. I told him how I’d run away at seventeen and had let my father believe I was dead until I was eighteen. I told him how I wanted a love I could call my own.
Our dreams weren’t that different.
And after we talked, our lips found each other again. Deep kisses. Hard kisses. Soft ones. We explored and tasted, yet our hands never went past our shoulders. This wasn’t about sex or getting off. It was about us being real—and as for me, well, fate was ripping apart my rule of not falling for him, tearing at the very fabric of my resolve. I was falling in love with the guy I’d tried my best to guard my heart against.
Sunny
ASH WALKED UP TO THE circulation desk where I sat with my A&P notes spread out across the counter. “Hey, Sunny.”
“Hi,” I replied as I pushed my notebook to the side and straightened up so I could lean over the counter and chat. He came in almost every night I was working and we usually ended up talking about everything. He was two years younger than me at nineteen, but because his IQ was off the charts, they’d let him start college at sixteen. His eyes were the warmest brown I’d ever seen with streaks of gray feathering out from the pupil. I felt relaxed around him, like I’d known him my whole life. I secretly hoped he and Isabella would become a couple.
He indicated the protein wrapper on my desk. “Nice dinner there. You sure it’s enough?” he commented.
“Didn’t have time for anything else.” My schedule had been nuts between classes and work.
He propped himself against the counter. Clad in skinny jeans, Vans, and a black waffle Henley, he caught the attention of several girls who walked by.
“I can run to the Student Center and grab you something if you want?”
“Nah, that’s okay, but thank you.” I smiled. “You’re one of the sweetest guys, which is kinda funny with the Mohawk and piercings . . .” I blushed remembering exactly what was pierced according to Isabella. “Not that I judge people by appearance, but you know what I mean. You kinda look like a—”
“Thug?”
I laughed.
“I’d do anything for you, Sunny. You introduced me to everyone you knew right off the bat. That was cool. You’re a nice person—like deep down I see you’re always looking out for others.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “You’d do anything for the people you care about.”
Bianca and Felix waltzed through the door. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses on her face—even though the sun had set—and as far as I could tell, she didn’t even glance over at me as they headed to the study carrels in the back.
Fine by me.
Ash’s eyes bounced from her to me. “She’s leaving you alone now?”
I nodded. “Won’t even look me in the face.”
In class, she avoided me at all costs I’d noticed too, her face remote and cold, waiting until Max and I had left the room before she even picked up her books.
“Good. If she starts anything, let me know.”
“You gonna fight her for me?” I ruffled his hair.
“You bet.”
He left to go upstairs and I got busy scanning the books in the drop box and doing the usual tasks before closing up. Pam, my manager, popped out of her office and reminded me I needed to head downstairs to the basement to take a cart of discarded books the library had removed from the shelves.
I cringed at having to go down to The Dungeon, as we called it.
I checked my phone.
Max had texted me. It had been over a week since our sleepover, and things were different between us. Softer. We hadn’t gone beyond kissing, but every brush of his fingers, every heated glance he sent my way, made me weak.
The Walking Dead premiers tonight, he’d written.
Why can’t you watch normal TV? I replied.
Like The Bachelor? Please. All those guys are bastards.
Keep your shirt on, I texted. You’re just jealous.
Whatever. Pick you up soon. Meet me outside the library?
K