“Landry?”
“Yeah?” I pull my eyes back to his and suck in a breath when he cradles my face in his hands.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kiss you.”
Before I can even think, his lips are on mine, devouring me as if he were underwater and I were oxygen. I’m still for a moment, but then my body takes over, knowing his like the back of my hand. I reach and fist his shirt at his side, my knuckles brushing skin when his hem rides up, and I shudder. I’ve dreamed about touching him again, thinking he was out of my reach forever. There’s a push and pull between us, and I think there always will be, but right now, I don’t care. He’s mine.
He wraps a strong hand behind my neck, pulling me closer, and I rise on my knees, deepening the kiss. Our tongues dance together, tasting like wine. I feel heady and drunk, my heart thrumming and my body buzzing. He digs his fingers into the fleshy part of my hip, pulling in, as if he wanted me to melt into him. I push one hand into his hair, grabbing the strands at the back and tugging. When his neck is bare, I run a trail of kisses down his windpipe, nipping the skin at the very base, and he growls.
“Fuck, Landry. I need you,” he says, bringing his mouth to my ear, capturing the lobe between his teeth and biting down slightly.
I arch my back, bringing my front closer to him, and he wraps an arm around my waist. Then, he leans forward, pushing me to the ground as he covers my body with his.
“Mmm,” I hum, loving every minute of this, refusing to let my mind derail these feelings.
His hand dives under my sweater, brushing the bottom of my breast, as he continues down my neck, biting into my skin once he gets to my shoulder. I squirm a little, enjoying the sensations created by the mixture of pain and pleasure. He lets go, licking across the mark his teeth made, and then he blows cold air on the wet skin, causing goose bumps to break out down my arms.
“Do that again,” I moan, and he does.
The feeling shoots straight to my core as he pulls my bra cup down at the same time, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“You like it rough?” he murmurs against my skin, and I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. “Answer me,” he commands, and I throw my head back.
“Yes,” I manage to say.
He smirks. “Dirty girl,” he says, and I nod. “Only mine.”
“Only yours,” I say, not even caring how quickly this has escalated.
He knows exactly the right places to touch me, to caress, to bite and suck and lick, and I’m putty in his hands. I’m a fool for him. There was no denying that I was going to come crawling back into his strong arms and his filthy, dirty hands.
A vibration cuts off our sounds, the air around us falling silent as we both pause.
“Don’t stop,” I plead after a few seconds.
He bends back down, licking a trail from my belly button, dipping underneath my sweater to end at my collarbone.
“Trixie will kill me if you stretch out this sweater.”
I giggle, and he smiles, practically inside the sweater with me.
“Isn’t that what the huge collar is for on this one? Easy access?”
I lay my head back and roll my eyes. Then, I reach up and push his head back down inside, and he laughs, his hot breath fanning against my chest. My nipples get harder in response, and he pulls one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around it and sucking while still pinching my other nipple. I buck my hips, the need building in my lower half for a release.
The air is filled with moans and heavy breaths and sometimes a giggle or two from sheer happiness when Corbin’s phone starts to vibrate again.
“You can get it if you need to.” I sit up a little, but he plants a hand against my stomach, pinning me down.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he growls against my nipple and pulls his head out, fishing in his back pocket for his phone. “What?” he barks, listening for a second.
I watch his face morph into confusion and then a frown.
My heart sinks, as I know that whatever is being said won’t end well for me in this moment.
He pulls the phone away from his ear, and he looks at me, splayed out in front of him. I see the fire still burning in his eyes, but he rakes a hand down his face and groans as he rocks back onto his feet and stands up.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, righting my sweater and pushing up onto my elbows.
“I don’t know. Brock asked to see me, says it’s important.”
“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” I know I sound selfish, but right now, I am.
I feel like Corbin and I are finally getting to a good place, and damn, if the slow-building tension of actually getting to have sex isn’t going to kill me, I don’t know what will.
“He said now. God, Landry. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”
I look at him but then cover my mouth, a giggle escaping from between my fingers.
“What’s so funny?” He stares down at me, and I giggle again.
“You. Standing there, so serious-looking, with a massive boner. It’s a little funny.”
He smiles and reaches down for my hand, pulling me up and against his body with seemingly no effort at all. He presses his arousal into my stomach, a hiss escaping his lips.
“I’d rather be taking care of this problem, preferably with you,” he says, raking a hand into the hair right above my ear.
He lowers his mouth to mine, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips, and then pushes harder, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth and biting a little. I moan, and he pulls me in tighter.
“God, you can’t make those noises right now, or I’ll never be able to leave.”
“That’s kind of the point,” I say, stepping back, and he looks so sad. “Go. I’ll still be around after.” I help him pick up the picnic stuff, our food mostly uneaten.
We take off across the south lawn, and once we reach the buildings, I turn to him and grab the bag, lantern, and blanket.
“I’ll take it back to my room; you can go see what’s so important.”
After a quick kiss, he jogs off, and I stand there, staring after him like a lovesick fool.
23
Corbin
“What the fuck is this about, Brock?” I am tired of the cryptic messages and him disappearing.
The three of us used to be so tight, and I feel like everyone has secrets now. I’m pissed that he dragged me away from Landry. I still have a half-chub, and it’s a little uncomfortable.
Standing outside our room, I stare him down, but he’s as stoic as ever. He pushes the door open, and my eyes land on a woman sitting next to Bodhi. She immediately stands as soon as I see her, fidgeting nervously, and I look to Brock in confusion.
“Meet Andrea Almadale.”
“Almadale? As in Almadale Prep?” I reach up to rub the back of my neck, still not understanding what is going on.
“The same. Her great-grandfather started our school.”
I look at Andrea. She’s probably mid- to late-thirties and pretty. But she doesn’t say anything, shifting back and forth on her feet.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Brock says, walking out before I can say anything else.
Bodhi follows, giving me a slight pound on the back, a strange look in his eyes.