Firm fingers grip my shoulder. “Savage.”
My eyes pop open to find a dark figure looming over me. I part my lips, the scream crawling up my throat and a gloved hand settles over the lower part of my face, silencing me. My heart races, my scream muffled behind the glove and I struggle beneath his hold.
He thrusts his face in mine. Sharp cheekbones. Angled jaw. Plush mouth and ice cold eyes.
Whit Lancaster. In the flesh.
“Be quiet,” he whispers, his tone a threat. Deadly.
I thrash about, marveling at how strong his hand is, pinning my head to the bed. The scent of rich leather fills my head and I’m tempted to bite his gloved fingers. He reaches for me, using his other arm to hold me down, his body draped over mine to keep me from moving. “What the fuck, Savage?”
My heart races so hard it feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. He has to feel it. Has to know how scared I am.
“It’s just me,” he whispers. “Calm down.”
His tone is softer than usual and I immediately do as he asks, my body growing still, as do my thoughts. I take a shaky breath, which is a struggle beneath his leather-covered hand, and as if he can sense my sudden compliance, he removes his hand from my mouth.
I exhale loudly, watching as he rises to his feet and begins to pace the room. He’s dressed all in black. Black hoodie and joggers. Black Nikes on his feet and a black beanie covering his hair.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I ask, my voice raspy from sleep.
“I didn’t want anyone to see me,” he says, his back to me as he goes to the window and pushes the curtains aside to stare outside.
“Have your sister hack the security system,” I tell him.
He glances over his shoulder. “She’s not here. I literally snuck inside your dorm hall, keeping to the shadows.”
“Why?” I ask incredulously. “It’s Saturday. I thought you were gone for the weekend.”
“I came back early.” He rests his gloved hands on the edges of the window, one foot cocked forward, his gaze on the view while he speaks to me. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
I sit up in bed, his admission making me blurt out the only word I can think of.
“Why?”
He pushes away from the window and returns to my bed, his hands cupping my face, forcing me to look at him. “It’s like my thoughts are consumed with nothing else but you. I jerked off last night thinking of you. I jerked off again this morning thinking about you. We haven’t even fucked yet, and I’m fucking obsessed.”
Whit releases my face, springing away from me as if I might be diseased, on his feet and pacing the floor again.
“You’re dressed as if you’re going to rob the place,” I say, my voice shaky. “You’re risking a lot, sneaking into my room.”
“I’m not risking shit, considering my family owns this school and I wouldn’t get in trouble. They could find me in your bed with you impaled on my cock and they wouldn’t do a damn thing about it.” He thrusts a finger at me. “What I am risking is my entire fucking future right now. Not that you give a damn.”
I frown, not sure what he’s referring to. “What do I have to do with your future?”
“You fuck with my head, when I shouldn’t be thinking about you whatsoever, Savage. You’re nothing to me.”
The words are cruel, but there isn’t any real feeling behind him, so I take no offense to what he just said.
“Then why are you here?” I ask softly.
Whit thrusts his hands into his hair, pulling it away from his forehead while he studies me. “I don’t know.” He sounds positively tormented.
His torment is my power. I’m the one who does this to him. Not quite sure what he means by the future comment, but it doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is that he’s back. He returned to campus because of me. For me.
I shove the covers back and rise onto my knees, reaching for the hem of the oversized T-shirt I wore to bed. With one fluid movement, I remove the shirt, tossing it aside. I’m only in a pair of panties and nothing else, and his gaze drops to my chest, his eyes flaring with heat. I get on all fours and crawl across the bed, until I’m on the very end, and he stops directly in front of me, his black leather gloved hand slipping beneath my chin and tipping my head back so I have no choice but to rise up on my knees.
“Are you an offering?” he asks, his voice deceptively soft, his eyes glittering.
The cool air whisks across my body, making me tremble. Making my nipples harden to almost painful points. “If I’m what you want, then yes.”
“You’re always what I want.”
I blink up at him, shocked by his admission, the obvious yearning in his eyes as they skim over my face. He drifts his hand along the length of my neck, across my collarbone. The smooth black leather is soft and cool against my heated skin and I close my eyes, a gasp leaving me when he drifts his knuckles along my breast. “You make me want things I can’t have.”
He pinches my nipple with his thumb and index finger, pulling on it. Making me wince. He does the same to my other nipple, twisting it until I cry out before he releases it, ducking his head and tonguing the throbbing bit of flesh for not nearly as long as I want him to.
Whit steps away from the bed, his gaze still on my glistening nipple. “Why the fuck do I always want to hurt you?”
He sounds tortured. And if he’s trying to threaten me, it’s not working.
I cup my breasts, fondling myself. “You can’t.”
“Why not?” He frowns.
“Because I like the way you touch me too much.” I brush my thumb across my wet nipple, my pussy flooding from the warmth of his gaze as he watches my every move. “I even enjoy the pain.”
His eyes darken with heat. “You’re as fucked up as I am.”
I nod. “We’re one and the same.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple moving before he utters, “Slip your hand in your panties.”
I do as he says, diving my fingers into the front of my pale pink panties. They’re nothing special. But he’s looking at me as if I’m wearing expensive lingerie just for him. It’s that look that has me soaked, and my fingers sink into my folds, slicking through my juices. I’m so wet, I’m sure he can hear it.
“Give me your hand,” he demands and I pull my hand from my underwear, my coated fingers shiny. He inhales sharply, his chest rising before he reaches for my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth.
He sticks his tongue out and drags it slowly along each of my fingers. My breath comes in little pants, my gaze on his tongue, aroused by the way he laps at my fingers as if he’s savoring my taste.
“Do it again,” he murmurs against my palm. My gaze jerks to his and he gently kisses my hand. “Let me hear just how wet I make you.”
Once again my fingers are between my thighs, my hand busy as it stretches the pink cotton tightly. My clit throbs as I rub it, and I increase my speed, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the room. He leans in and circles his gloved fingers around my wrist, stopping me, his face in mine, his breath fanning across my lips.
“I’m going to fuck you tonight,” he whispers.
I nod, my eyes wide and unblinking.