He looks at me intently, and I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest and looking away. This conversation got too intimate, too quickly.
I'm surprised by the way that scares me.
"Your parents have been together a long time, too, yeah?" he asks.
"Yeah, but mine aren't at all like yours," I say, laughing bitterly. "I mean, maybe they're happy in their own way, I guess. Or maybe they're just resigned to being together. They'll never leave each other, that's for sure. They fight all the damn time, though. Always have. Knockdown, drag-out screaming matches. Throwing plates, that kind of thing. They would never actually hurt each other, not physically, but their arguments have always been insane."
"Is that why you never really dated?" Colton asks.
I shrug. "I don't know," I say, thinking. "I never really thought about it that way. But I mean, it didn't really make me want to be with someone, I guess. If that's what I had to look forward to, I'd rather be alone, you know?"
"What would you do if you didn't become a professor?" Colton asks, and I'm grateful for the change of subject.
"Not sure," I admit as he sits up behind me, sliding his arms down mine. Heat radiates from him, sending a shiver up my spine.
"Are you cold?" he murmurs into my ear.
"Not anymore."
"You shivered."
"Not because I'm cold."
Colton makes a sound that's somewhere between a growl and a grunt.
"A bar on the beach," I say.
"Come again?"
"That's what I'd do." I dream of it. "Mix margaritas and listen to tourists complain about how they don't want to go back home to their shitty lives."
Colton laughs. "You could probably have done that without getting a Ph.D."
"True," I say. "But then I wouldn't be here in Texas getting some of the best dick of my life."
"Some of the best dick of your life?" he asks, his hands on my shoulders as he turns me to look at him. "Honey, I'm going to absolutely be the best dick you ever had. There's no topping this shit. The rest of your life, it's all downhill from here."
I laugh as he lays back and pulls me on top of him, my hands on his chest. "You think so? I was hoping the next guy would be an improvement."
He growls. "I don't want to hear anything about a next guy ever again," he says, sitting up and flipping me over onto my stomach before I can even register what he's doing. He brings his palm down hard on my ass, the blow stinging.
"Or what?" I ask, my throat tight.
He smacks my ass again. "I already told you I'm going to ruin you for other men," he reminds me, slapping me again. "I don't even want to think about you with other men. Maybe I'm not doing a good enough job of ruining you."
"You should probably try harder," I agree, my voice thick.
He slides his fingers between my legs. "Your smart ass little mouth is going to get you in trouble."
"You should probably fix that."
“You’re not going to look so smug with my cock in your mouth.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think I’d look pretty self-satisfied with my lips wrapped around you.”
He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me up to face him, sending a shock of pain through me, then lets go immediately like he's afraid of losing control. "Cassie, you fucking kill me, you know that?" I rise up on my knees, guiding his cock toward my entrance because I'm greedy and I don't want to wait. I want him inside me.
I slide onto him, groaning in satisfaction at the more-than-welcome intrusion. Rocking against him, I look into his eyes. "Why do I kill you?" I whisper.
"I think you might be ruining me."
35
Colton
"Is Cassandra going to keep tutoring you during the fall?" My mother asks. Even on the phone, her fishing for information is transparent.
"I don't know, mom." I give a sigh. "Are you never going to let up about her?"
"Not when she helped my son get the best grades he's gotten in college or high school," she says.
"They rearrange the tutors. Or maybe I won't get one at all in the fall. I don't know."
"You haven't asked her?"
I swallow hard. Nope. We've both been avoiding mentioning anything beyond this week. It's finals, and then I get two weeks before all the craziness of the season begins.
"I haven't thought about it," I lie.
"You need her," my mom tells me.
I know.
"How do you figure that?" I ask, my voice tight.
"Because I know you."
"I can study on my own. It's not like studying is going to be my priority come fall, anyhow."
"You know I'm not talking about studying," my mom says knowingly.