Last week, Kodiak moved back into his house with the guys. Not that it’s really changed anything. We’re still together a lot. Only now, we can divide our time between his bedroom and mine.
We go out on dates, we study together, we hang out with friends. It’s a grown-up version of how we were when we were kids. The transition from fighting to stay away from each other to falling into a new kind of love all over again feels seamless.
Balance isn’t always easy to find with Kodiak, because when he discovers something he’s passionate about, he immerses himself in it completely. That’s how he is with hockey and school. And now it’s how he is with me. Sometimes we struggle to give each other space, but we manage.
In the back of my head, I often remind myself that he’s graduating this year and there’s a very good chance he’ll be playing for the NHL come the fall. There’s also that internship I applied for, but the chances of me getting it are virtually nonexistent, so I try not to worry.
I scan the library shelves, looking for the book I want, running my fingers over their spines. I love getting lost in books, and while I don’t have a lot of time for recreational reading these days, I’m loving the course list for my psych class and I’m excited for next semester’s contemporary lit course. Right now I’m searching for a textile resource book. It might sound boring to some people but I find it riveting.
My phone keeps vibrating in my pocket. It’s Kodiak. He’s not texting, he’s calling, and he knows better than to think I’ll risk getting caught answering in the middle of the library. It finally stops so I can concentrate again. It’s distracting when he pulls this kind of shit for no other reason than he’s probably bored and wants to talk about sex positions or whatever.
Or when I plan to duct-tape him to his computer chair again. It turns out Kodiak has a bit of a freaky side (to match mine), and he really, really likes being duct-taped to the chair and taunted while I get off on something other than his dick. It’s a little fucked up, but then, so are we.
I find the book—of course it’s on the top shelf—and push up on my tiptoes, reaching as high as I can. I’m about three inches too short. My phone starts buzzing again, and I roll my eyes. “I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than duct-tape you to your damn computer chair when I get home,” I mutter.
An arm winds around my waist, and I suck in a shocked breath as I’m pulled back into a hard body. I breathe in Kodiak’s familiar cologne and shiver when his lips brush my ear. “I hope that’s a promise and a threat,” he whispers.
I try to spin around, but he tightens his hold on my waist and drags his lips along the edge of my jaw. So warm and soft and mine. “What’re you doing here and how did you find me?” I ask.
His other hand skims my hip, smoothing over the fabric of my dress. “I needed to see you, and lucky guess.”
His voice has a slight waver to it. I cover the hand splayed out over my stomach, my body warming under his touch. “Is everything okay?”
“Mmm. I have a biochem test in forty-five minutes.”
“Oh.” Kodiak has a 97 percent in biochem. I’m sure the 3 percent he’s missing is eating at him, but he’ll survive. He could probably take the test blind-drunk, and high and still get a great mark. Besides, he’s ridiculous about studying and requires rewards for meeting every single goal he sets. There are a lot of goals, and consequently a lot of rewards. Sometimes I have to give him IOUs for those when they interfere with my schedule.
“So you’re looking to rub up on me for good luck?”
He burrows through my hair, lips finding my neck. “I mean, rubbing up on you is nice, but I was thinking I’d need a little . . . liquid courage.”
“You want to go for a beer?” I’m confused, particularly because he’s rubbing his hard-on against my back and drawing figure eights on my thigh.
“Baby, no.” He chuckles and sucks on my neck.
“Then what kind of liquid courage are you referring to, Kodiak?”
“I have a theory I need to test out.” He slips his fingers under my skirt and drags them up the inside of my leg. I’m wearing tights, but we’re standing in the middle of the stacks. It’s not particularly private.
“Can you please explain this in a way that my peon brain will understand? What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“Do you remember the organic chemistry test I had last week?”
“Sure.” I don’t, but I’m hoping to hurry this along so he can get to the point.
“No, you don’t.” He nibbles my earlobe.
“You’re right. I don’t. What happened with the organic chemistry test?”
“I aced it.”
“Awesome. You deserve to be duct-taped to your computer chair for that.” I’m mostly serious.
Kodiak groans against my neck, and my skirt bunches up as he cups me, fingertips pressing against my clit through the layers of fabric.
“What’re you doing? Anyone could walk by.” I make no move to stop him.
“Does it make you anxious?”
“Well, yeah.” The duh is in my tone.
“Me too,” he admits. “But it jacks me right up. That’s fucked, isn’t it?”
I shrug, because honestly, it jacks me up too.
“Anyway, you know what happened right before I took that test?” He rubs slow circles on me through my tights; it’s delicious and not nearly enough.
“No clue,” I whisper-moan.
“I ate you out, and you came all over my face.”
I can feel my cheeks flushing, partly at the memory, partly at how insanely wet it made me then, and how wet I am now. Apparently being extra juicy runs in my family. Unfortunately I know this because my gigi told me.
“It’s all I can think about, and I really need to be able to focus on this test so I can do well.”
“We don’t have time to go home for a pussy buffet, Kodiak.”
“I got the key to a study room.” He raises his hand, and a key on a chain dangles from his ring finger.
I spin around in his arms. “Are you serious?”
He bites his lip. “Please?”
“You got the key to a study room so you can eat me out?” I don’t know why I’m flabbergasted. I mean, this is Kodiak we’re talking about. He’s slightly off-kilter when it comes to rituals. It appears eating my vagina before tests is now one of those things.
He nods. I don’t know how he manages to look angelic right now, his wide, green eyes are doe-like. He’s almost vibrating with excitement and anxiety.
I should probably say no, because this is kind of nuts. But at the same time, I don’t want him to psych himself out and not do well on the test because he didn’t get to go down on me.
That I’m rationalizing this is craziness.
Also, as nervous as it makes me, it’s also kind of thrilling to have my boyfriend go to such extreme lengths to give me an orgasm. Obviously it’s for his benefit, but I’ll get something out of it too.
I nod once. “Okay.”
“Really?” His eyes flare, as if my agreeing is completely unexpected.
I hold up a finger. “Just this once, though.”