by Paula Cox
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” What else was she supposed to say? Eliza didn’t have a car—why did she need one when she lived on campus, her dad worked on campus, and there was a cafeteria in her building? But if she did, she would have been horrified to discover that someone had stuck nails in her tires. Some people were so cruel.
“So where were you headed?” he asked, as they headed for the main campus area, surrounded by a herd of students.
“History of law,” she said dully. It might have been her most boring class, but at least there was no one to shred her ideas into itty-bitty pieces. “Want to walk me there?”
The question had come out of nowhere. She hadn’t even thought about it before she said it, and her cheeks flamed with a dark blush when Nash looked her way, brows up. Usually they just went their separate ways, meeting up in the library or food court to spend time together. If she’d been paying any sort of attention, she wouldn’t have asked him to walk her anywhere.
In her eyes, what she’d just said was one step below asking him on a date. Her stomach turned as she braced for an uncomfortable rejection. He probably had his own things to do. Why would he have time to walk her to class? So much for eschewing the little girl persona—
“Yeah, sure,” Nash said after a beat. “I was just going to go to the registrar’s office to change some stuff with my schedule, but I can walk you first.”
Eliza brightened, suddenly feeling the need to stand a little taller, hold her head a little higher. “Great!”
Then, without thinking again, she took a sharp turn to the left, nearly plowing into Nash, only to realize she was going the wrong way in seconds.
“I mean, it’s…it’s this way,” she muttered sheepishly, her newfound confidence taking a bit of a hit as Nash laughed. She mentally slammed her palm against her forehead, her blush returning.
Smooth, Eliza. Real smooth.
Chapter 5
Two months. Nash had been pretending to be a fucking business student at Blackwoods University for two months, and only today had his latest lead run dry. Although not necessarily the biggest power players on campus, he’d opted to keep track of the fraternity houses and their drug dealers. A lot of rich kids were doing coke these days, and if they weren’t buying from the Steel Phoenixes, they were getting their shit from someone else.
He’d tracked those assholes through the frat drug rings, only to find they were low-level guys who had a reputation for not dealing pure stuff. Beginners. Young guys wanting to break into the drug dealing market and make it big like the Phoenixes had years ago. While they were mouthy fucks, they weren’t nearly organized, coordinated, or, honestly, intelligent enough to pull off a hit on the Phoenixes. Just to be sure, he’d dragged one of them by his ear and hung him off the side of a building on the south side of town. It was a good shakeup that got him names and numbers, but he’d learned today from Micky that they were names and numbers the higher-ups at the club already knew about.
“Good lead, and we can use ‘em later, but these aren’t our guys,” his pal had said over the phone. Nash had taken the call during a “study session” with Eliza in the library, standing by the bathrooms on the ground floor where conversation and low-level noise was tolerated.
So two months of chasing assholes in the frat drug ring had been for nothing. Sure, now he knew what these guys looked like—and if there ever were serious problems, he’d know whom to go after.
Sticking nails in his tires wasn’t exactly a serious problem, but he stored it in his memory for later. The footage of the vandals had been blurry, but Nash had a sinking suspicion as to who the culprits were, and he’d make them pay at a later date. For now, he had a perp to find, and as he’d stalked back to the table he and Eliza were sharing, it was hard not to feel a little deflated.
“Everything okay?” Eliza asked, still clacking away at her laptop when he settled across from her. When he didn’t respond right away, she looked up with those big doe eyes, so wide and imploring, and he found himself answering despite not being in the mood to talk.
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, some stiffness to his tone, and then he opened his laptop again. “Just my landlord.”
“Oh.” She nibbled her plump lower lip, the one he’d imagined between his teeth more times than he could count, then went back to her work. “Okay.”
Eliza Truman. Elizabeth Truman, daughter of Darryl Truman, Dean of Blackwoods University. Yeah, Nash had done a little digging. He had to be sure the woman he was using as his cover story was clean—but he hadn’t expected her to be so squeaky clean. No records to be found, expect in the academic sense. Smart, she had an exceptional GPA and got into Blackwoods University on her own merit. Her social media presence was limited, even after she accepted his friend request. No pictures of her partying. She was part of an online knitting club.
And her body was killer. His cock always twitched a little when they met up, eager to bury deep inside what he was guessing was a tight little pussy. But he didn’t push her. Messy wasn’t something Nash needed while he was investigating, because there was the chance he could be gone in a heartbeat should the need arise. Instead, he flirted shamelessly, always keeping his cover story on the hook, but he hadn’t muddied the waters yet.
She was a sweet girl, anyway. She probably couldn’t handle him even if he did try to muddy said waters—and muddy them he would. Sometimes, when they were supposed to be studying, he’d find himself studying her, drifting into daydreams where he had her arms behind her back, tied preferably, and her pert little body bent over a table. Then he’d snap back to reality, reminding himself that she blushed at just about everything, and got back to his work.
Given the lateness of the hour, Nash was surprised how many people were still in the library. Midterms seemed to be the talk of the town around campus, and it was actually kind of fun to sit in the middle of things, watching kids freak out over nothing, while he was long out of that stage of his life. Sure, he had more pressing things to concern himself with, but he was fucking thrilled that he wasn’t one of those panicky brats complaining to anyone who would listen about how difficult life was.
Because, really, they had no idea.
He should have gone home hours ago. Now that his frat lead had gone belly up, a cold beer and some mindless TV were in order to give his brain a chance to cool down. It had been on overdrive lately, trying to solve this mystery, and what he wouldn’t give for a night of quiet. But the weather was shit, the parking lot was a good twenty-minute walk away, and he had no beer in the fridge. So there he sat, staring at his laptop screen, knowing he should leave but not moving an inch.
“How’s it going over there?” he asked when he noticed Eliza seemed to have the same glazed over look in her eye as she stared at her laptop. She snapped out of it with a slight shake of her head, then sighed.
“I think I’ve read the same sentence three times and I still don’t know what it means.”
“Yeah, I hear that,” Nash said, chuckling. He’d been listening to and reading about the same intel over and over again, but he hadn’t solved a thing yet. Sometimes he felt like he was going in circles, like a dog chasing its own tail, and it was starting to make his head hurt.
Eliza closed her laptop and pushed it away, then ran a hand through her mass of blonde waves, thick and lustrous. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” After rubbing his weary eyes, Nash cast a look to the nearest window. Rain drizzled down the pane, the bare branches on the tree just outside waving back and forth. “I’m not looking forward to walking to my car. Could have done with an umbrella.”
Nash wasn’t a pussy, but this was the kind of shit he talked to Eliza about. She was too soft for anything else. The weather. Classes. Her studies. Some days he found it mind-numbing, but at least she was gorgeous to look at. On top of that, she was the kind of girl who didn’t know she was gorgeous, and that made it all the better for him.
&nbs
p; “Well,” Eliza started, slowly packing her things into her book bag, “if you don’t want to walk all the way back to your car, you could always hang out at my dorm until the weather gets better.” When he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, surprised at the uncharacteristically bold invite, she gave a little shrug and turned her face away so that he couldn’t see her blush. “I have some beer…and we could put a pizza in the oven or something. I-If you’re hungry. I’m kind of hungry, so I figured you might be, too. We’ve been here forever it seems and—”
“That sounds great,” he said, careful to keep his voice from sounding too enthusiastic. He’d mostly answered to make her stop rambling, but the idea of pizza and beer on a rainy, shitty night wasn’t the worst thing in the world either. She’d been brave enough to invite him over, but he couldn’t be sure how long the act would last. Already her face was flushed, and while it gave him a little thrill to know he had so much power over her emotions, Nash couldn’t help but wonder how tiring it would be to put up with her outside of their usual settings.
As they packed up their things, a light banter about the rain returning, Nash decided he’d give himself an hour with her before he bailed. He could toss back a few beers in an hour. Eat half a pizza in less than that.
Yeah. He could do that.
One hour and then he was gone.
*****
She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Eliza had been itching to invite Nash back to her place for weeks now, ever since October rolled into November and her school stuff only got increasingly stressful. She’d never been so out-there with a man before. Hell, she was still a virgin after years of focus and a few failed dates. Nobody had ever held her attention for this long. No, correction. No one had ever been able to steal her attention from schoolwork for this long, and that had to mean something.
So, when Nash had complained about walking all the way across campus in the rain, Eliza’s mouth reacted before her brain had a chance to process the potential consequences. Suddenly they were on their way back to her dorm, rushing through the miserable weather to the residential building only five minutes from the library. Campus was dead tonight, everyone hiding indoors to avoid the storm, but Eliza wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. Side-by-side they dashed around puddles and across the lawn, water splashing up and down at them from all sides. By the time they reached her building, both of them were drenched but smiling, and she led him in with a newfound, giddy confidence that took even her by surprise.
It faded somewhat by the time they reached her dorm. She’d been living in the same one every year, courtesy of the strings her father pulled for her. While there were simply rooms, single and shared, in her building, Eliza had a private suite with a small kitchen-living room combo, a bathroom with a tiny shower stall, and a good-sized bedroom that allowed her to fit a desk and a bookshelf in, plus her roomy double bed. There were a lot of things about school life she could complain about, but her living quarters wasn’t one of them.
Once they were inside, Eliza handed Nash two towels, then scuttled into her room to change out of her soaked clothing. When she returned in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a fitted grey tee, she found Nash rooting through her fridge—shirtless, still wearing his wet jeans, the towel wrapped around his neck.
“Uh…” What else was she supposed to say? The sight of his muscular back, toned and rippling with even the slightest movement, was enough to take her breath away. He straightened up, a can of beer in hand, and gently closed the door.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to root through your stuff. Just wanted to grab a beer,” he told her, and then he cracked the can open. She licked her lips as she watched him drink, and then she shook her head when his eyes met hers—obviously realizing she’d been staring.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she rambled, hurrying into the kitchen and pulling the frozen pizza out of the freezer. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”
As she turned the oven to preheat and threw the pizza in during the silence that followed, Eliza started to question whether or not bringing him here was a good idea. They’d already been chatting on and off for hours; this was the longest they’d ever spent together in a single day, and maybe she was pushing it. When she straightened up and placed her hands on her hips, Eliza noted the way his gaze crawled slowly over her body from his position against the back of her loveseat. When it eventually reached her face, Nash clenched his jaw briefly before looking away, then took a long swig of his beer.
Oh my god, he’s uncomfortable.
Nibbling her lower lip, Eliza stood there, the heat of her oven warming her back, scrambling for something to say that would break the weird tension that had suddenly formed.
“I-If you want we could watch some TV,” she stammered, nodding to the flat screen mounted on the wall behind him. She didn’t watch much television, but it was nice to have background noise while she was knitting. “Or, uhm, I have some board games t—”
“Eliza.”
She cringed, unable to believe that she’d just suggested board games to the sinfully sexy man standing across from her. However, she fell silent as soon as he said her name. There was something different in his voice just then, a darkness she hadn’t heard before. She waited, her lips slightly parted, unable to meet his eyes.
“Come here,” Nash ordered, and his tone left no room for argument. Something stirred within her, a pulse of excitement that radiated out from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers. Without a word, she found her feet shifting toward him, and suddenly she was standing a foot away, fidgeting with her fingernails.
Nash eased into a standing position, balancing his beer can on the back of the couch. Towering over her, his presence was quite overwhelming, and Eliza drew in a shaky breath, her gaze slowly climbing up to meet his.
Which was pretty darn difficult, given his broad chest was right there, begging for her touch. Her hands balled into fists, and Eliza stuck them behind her back to keep from doing something embarrassing.
But it was Nash who touched her first. Reaching out suddenly, he pushed her damp hair back over her shoulders, then trailed a lone finger down her face, along the curve of her jaw, stopping finally under her chin. Another shaky breath slipped out as he tilted her head back and kissed her. As soon as their lips touched, it was as if she was on fire. Her whole body seemed to flush, her cheeks prickling, as his mouth easily fit over hers. At his prompting, she parted her lips, letting his tongue delve inside her mouth. She’d been kissed before, of course, but never like this. Never in a way that felt almost…masterful.
A soft whimper slipped out as the kiss grew harder, heavier, the weight of things unsaid bearing down on her. Just as her knees were about to give in, her senses swamped by Nash’s very being, he ducked down and hoisted her up, easily wrapping her legs around his waist. Finally she gave herself permission to touch him—now that she was all but straddling him—and her hands smoothed over his hard chest, his nipples becoming erect when her fingers grazed them. He groaned, a sound she felt between her legs. In a few long strides, he had them on the other side of the loveseat. Nash deposited her onto the plush cushions a little gracelessly, and then he went for her pajama bottoms.
Thank goodness she’d worn underwear. Chest heaving, Eliza lifted her hips to help him get her flannel pants off, and then he let out a moan as he cupped her damp sex, rubbing her through her underwear.
“Fuck,” he hissed, a finger rubbing over her clit. She twitched as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. “You’re so wet.”
And all because he’d kissed her. Would he think it was pathetic—or a compliment? If she had more confidence in her sexual prowess—or lack thereof—she might have purred something sensual back.
It’s all for you, big boy.
Eliza, however, lacked a sexual vocabulary in general, and instead offered a breathy groan in response, her back arching up as he continued to rub her, easily working her into a frenzy without actually touching he
r. He had her on the crest of an orgasm without even removing her underwear, a noticeable bulge in his pants as he watched her writhe on the couch.
Just because she was a virgin didn’t mean she’d never had an orgasm. In fact, she had a vibrator in her bedside table drawer that she even used occasionally. Rarely these days, given the sheer volume of schoolwork she had to get through, but she knew the telltale signs of an orgasm. The tight build throughout her body. The heat rising. Her skin prickling.
And then the break. The crashing of a wave. Nash slipped his fingers under her underwear, stroking her faster, fingers running along her wet slit and up to circle her clit.
“Oh, god,” she cried, gripping the couch cushion as she rode out the pleasure, her shyness forgotten for one blissful moment. When she finally came back to Earth, she noticed Nash watching her, mouth quirked in a smirk. His eyes were hungry, darkened with lust, with need. She’d never seen that look in a man before, but she knew she was desperate for more.
Her heaving breaths came to a soft pause when Nash ran his hands over her quivering thighs then gripped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up. Rather than taking it off, he merely pulled it over her head and tucked the bottom behind her neck, leaving her shoulders and arms still covered. He then trailed his fingers over her stomach, which twitched at the touch, and paused at her bra. Head cocked to the side, as if considering her ample C-cups, he pushed the cups aside but left the bra in place, exposing her luscious mounds and pebbled nipples.