Now I feel like a moron for not putting two and two together in the library. Of course, she is, who studies Mandarin for fun? Well, as she said before, I guess Taya does.
“You never asked.” She shrugs, those hazel eyes lingering on me.
And there it is, that unspoken unsettling just beneath my skin. There is something she’s hiding, and I have a pit in my stomach. I can’t put a name as to why, or explain it, but it makes me want to push past her defenses.
“I thought you were just taking Mandarin as a fucked-up challenge or something. Damn. So, tell me now. Why languages?” My arm moves of its own accord, snaking over the back of the couch, and one fingertip grazes a lock of her thick brown strands. I set my beer down on the coffee table with my other hand.
Taya leans in a bit, and instantly the temperature creeps up degree by degree.
“I love how different words in different languages mean the same thing, and then some phrases mean completely different things. In English, we say I miss you. But in French, it’s you’re missing from me. There is just something so mystifying and magical about translations.”
Well, fuck. If that isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth, I don’t know what is.
Taya is intuitive, thoughtful. She’s bubbly and laid-back all at the same time and offers smiles to everyone. She isn’t a badass like Bevan or a gumdrop fairy like Amelie. Taya is straight down the middle, the true north. The irony doesn’t escape me that her last name is North, and it fits her to a tee.
When I’m with her, I know exactly what I’m going to get. She’s witty and knows how to hold a conversation, and I’m learning just how extremely smart and talented she is. Five languages? Who the hell knew five languages?
And goddamn, she’s freaking gorgeous. In her natural state, with sweatpants on and her hair piled on her head, I can make out the sun freckles across her nose.
“I’m hoping to add Russian to my repertoire at some point. Maybe if they offer it in whatever job I land.”
“You’re incredible.” It’s out of my mouth before I can help it.
I want to look away, but it’s the truth, and so I hold her gaze. That is, until she ducks her head and an awkward beat of silence passes.
“Where is your redhead?” Taya asks, never looking up from her notes.
I have to digest the question, and then a lightbulb goes on in my head. So that’s why she was dancing with some random guy the other night. The guy with no rhythm, might I add. She must have seen me talking to Virginia and made assumptions. Damn, now I’m pissed off even more than I was when I had to talk to my ex-fling. Because it cost me the night I planned to spend exploring Taya in one of our bedrooms.
“Ah, so that’s why the random guy,” I say first, not explaining myself.
There is that signature blush turning her cheeks scarlet. “I saw you watching.”
“Damn right, I was. I wanted that to be me.” Honesty is probably best here.
Those eyes, a swirl of chocolate and clover, widen. “What?”
I sigh. “Taya, the girl you obviously saw me talking to was an … she’s not even ex. We hooked up for a month or two last year, and I ended it because she isn’t a very nice person. She’s always trying to rekindle things, and I was giving her the rundown when you saw me. I’ve never been as blunt with her as I was two nights ago. And that was because I didn’t want anything interfering when I finally went to find you.”
“Oh.” She swirls that lollipop around in her mouth.
“Yeah, oh.” I chuckle and make my move.
I scoot until we’re touching. Our thighs. Our arms. Our shoulders.
“Why did we never know each other in high school?” I whisper, my breath leaving traces on her mouth.
Taya stills, her hazel eyes going wide, and I instantly know I said the wrong thing.
“We did.” She audibly gulps, pulling the lollipop from her mouth. “You danced with me at homecoming once. My sophomore year. The song was ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay. And then it ended and some Pitbull song came on. Katie Miller pulled you away to grind with her. That was the extent of us knowing each other.”
That description is not one from someone who casually interacted with me. But my head is in too much of a fog to care, with my lips just inches from hers.
I’m thinking with my cock, which is never a good thing, but I can’t help it. We’ve been skating around this for weeks, and I want a taste.
Bending, I press my mouth to hers. It’s gentle at first, a test, and Taya sucks in a breath before sliding her full lips against mine. I taste the watermelon lollipop she was just sucking on, and I want more. I palm her cheeks, the smooth skin sending a zing to my balls, as I move her so I can slant my tongue in.
And fuck, she meets me the instant I enter. The kiss deepens, and I reach down to throw her textbook off her lap. Once it’s out of the way, I pull her on top of me. Taya’s breasts mold to my pecs through our respective shirts, and I feel her shiver as she presses against me.
But fuck, the girl can kiss. She’s grinding on my lap, and I’m so hard I may just bust out of these sweatpants. My hands snake up under the hem of her sweatshirt, and the minute I hit bare skin, we both suck in a breath. Teeth skate over lips; her fingertips are buried in at the root of my hair.
I’m warring with myself in my head. Take her upstairs, or don’t. Let this continue, or stop it. I don’t want to have these thoughts; I want to be the guy who focuses on only busting a nut and not a damn thing more. But I’ve never been that guy. I care who I take to bed, which is inconvenient at times even though I know it’s an admirable quality. There are more thoughts at play than just getting off, and I can never seem to shut them off.
Which is what has me easing back from Taya.
“Is this a good idea if we’re roommates?”
Taya’s eyes are dilated with lust, and she shrugs, not making any sort of noise. Am I fucking stupid? This girl is a knockout and clearly would agree to going up to my room right now. I want her so badly that my dick is screaming at me.
But I don’t want to fuck up this living situation. I also don’t want to lead her on, because a girlfriend is the last thing I’m ready for right now. Especially one who still has two more years of college and is from my hometown. The kind of pressure that puts on me? I’m full up in that department.
“Maybe we should slow it down.” I nod to myself as if this is a good thing, what I’m saying.
As if I’m not the one who kissed her. What the fuck am I doing?
“No, yeah.” She nods, tucking her hair behind her ears and scrambling off my lap and back across the couch.
Instantly, I feel cold, lonely, and have a massive case of blue balls—no one to blame but myself. But somewhere in my bones, I know this is the right decision, even if one boner is seriously glaring at me.
“But I could stay down here. We could watch Succession. You still on season two?” I smile, trying to not-so-obviously rearrange the bulge in my pants.
“Um … yeah.” Her smile is hesitant, and I kind of hate myself for stopping this.
But I mean it. If this is something we’re going to do, ending it could mean consequences. I can’t afford not to think of those.