by M. K. Hale
He leaned in and kissed my cheek before nibbling on my ear. “Mm, but puffy in all the right places.”
I blushed but loved it. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Ever since we’d had sex, he had gained confidence with his flirting and sneaky touches. I loved that too.
Did I love him?
“All right.” The history professor clapped a couple of times to get the attention of all the talking students. “As you know, the final exam is coming up, but before then, there will be a group project due. You can choose whom you work with; groups have to be at least four people. The description of the project is in the syllabus.”
“I hate group work,” Nate mumbled.
“That’s because you hate people.”
“I do not.” Nate scoffed and whispered so we would not disrupt the teacher, “I like you.”
“Don’t you mean you love me?” I teased him. It might have been the wrong time to bring up how he said he loved me a week ago by accident, but it slipped out.
Instead of replying with a witty comeback, as usual, Nate stared at me. My skin tingled as he made no move to correct my statement.
“You love me?” I asked again.
Nate gave me a small smile and wrapped a finger in my wavy hair. That was the extent of his response. He focused on the teacher without speaking a word.
When the class ended, two students, who sat near Nate and me, asked if we wanted to be partners with them for the group project. I readily agreed, and Nate gave a reluctant nod. Later, when we were studying in a personal room at the library, he explained why he hated group work.
“Every time I have group work, I end up doing all of it myself.”
“Well, not this time, because I’m going to be one of your partners.” I leaned in and whispered to him, “And I take work very seriously.”
“Why did that sound like an innuendo?”
“I think you just find everything I say sexy.”
“I think you might be right.”
“You know what I find sexy about you?” That he loved me.
“What?” Nate questioned, flipping a page of his textbook as he half-read it and half talked to me. God, he was so cute. Cute and hot. A perfect combination.
If only we were in the privacy of my room instead of a random study room of the library.
“How bossy you are.”
A disbelieving sound came from Nate. “Oh, please.”
“Really,” I assured him. “I love the way you tell me what you want me to do.” My hand crept from the book in front of me to under the table, on his upper leg. His body jolted at my touch. I tried not to grin. “Do you think you could tell me what you want me to do right now?”
“Allie.” He used his warning voice, and his confused expression just made me want to do this more.
He loved me, and I wanted to show him my feelings. He thought he liked me more than I liked him because he pretended not to say the “L” word after I didn’t say it back. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me. A little worshipping would help ease his doubts.
My hand moved over the growing bulge in his jeans.
“What are you doing?” Nate looked around the room, concerned. It was a private study room, but the glass wall allowed people in the main library to see through it. It somewhat added to the thrill. The large table blocked most of our bottom halves, and I used that to my advantage.
His eyes widened as he realized what I had planned. “We’re in public.” He swatted at my hand for me to stop groping him, but with one well-placed squeeze, he groaned and let me touch him.
“From the rumors I heard about you, that’s never stopped you before.”
“Rumors mean nothing. It comes from the Latin word for ‘noise,’” he ceased from telling me more dictionary facts as he grunted when my fingers tightened around him.
“It also comes from the old French word ‘rumur.’” I rolled my “r.”
His eyes darkened. “I love it when you do your French accent.”
Since he no longer attempted taking my hand away from him, I decided to step it up a notch. I unbuttoned his shorts and unzipped him. He never broke eye contact with me as I maneuvered him out of his boxers, but I could not help myself from glancing down. I had seen him many times before, and yet he always stunned me with how perfect he was.
His hard cock jutted out, the bulbous head a dusky red, glistening at the tip.
“Magnifique,” I whispered, and his erection twitched at my voice. Damn.
“Say something in French again,” he commanded me.
He did not have to ask me twice. If I had known it turned him on that much… Again, I repeat, damn.
“Je voudrais une glace.” I giggled at the way his cock moved again, as if searching for me. My hand wrapped around him and stroked from the base to the tip. Up and down.
“Damn, that’s hot.” Nate closed his eyes but reopened them as if he did not want to miss a moment of this. “What did you say?”
“I would like an ice cream.”
Nate chuckled then moaned as I quickened my hand on him. “How do you do this?” Nate asked in a hoarse voice.
I tilted my head to the side. “Well, first I hold it like this.” I demonstrated. “And then I alternate between stroking up and down, and squeezing the—”
“Not what I was asking.” One of his arms stretched around me, pulling me closer as I jerked him. “How do you get me to break rules like this?” The amazement in his eyes caused me to smile.
“I think I just awaken the part of you that always wanted to.” I worked him in my hand and nibbled on his neck, watching in awe as his taut muscles jumped under his fitted, dark shirt. “I think deep down you’ve always fantasized about losing control.” He hissed when my grip on him tightened, and I pumped faster and faster. So fast. “And damn, nothing turns me on more than when you do,” I told him.
“Allie.” He sucked in a breath and bucked into my hand. A dark, mischievous gleam claimed his eyes. “I’m not the only one about to lose control.” He slipped his hand between my thighs and rubbed me through my clothing.
We panted for breath and yet we could not stop kissing even with the lack of oxygen. I was close just from touching him and watching his pleasure, but now as his fingers circled over me, I was ready to fall over the edge.
“You’re like a fantasy,” he rasped against my mouth, and we both sped up our stroking. Our eyes locked onto one another’s as if it was a challenge as to who would break first. “Drenching my fingers. I think my little kitten needed this.”
“Always.” My core throbbed. Soon the tremors of release would claim me.
“You have no idea the things I want to do to you,” he groaned. “So many things. Bad things.”
“How bad?”
“Filthy.” He bit at the nape of my neck as my panting accelerated. “Jack me off faster, Kitten,” he added. “Before I decide rules don’t matter and I fuck you against the glass wall where everyone could see us.”
“Nate,” I cried out, so close. My head fell onto his shoulder, my neck too weak to hold it up. A bolt of lightning shot through my belly.
He whispered in my ear, “The next time you come after this, I’ll be inside you as you’re handcuffed to my bed.”
“Fuck!” Lights erupted behind my eyelids, and he moaned into my neck as my orgasm triggered his. His agonized and ecstatic expression caused my core to clench around his fingers harder.
We fought to calm our breathing.
Two thoughts crossed my mind. Nothing could be better than this.
And I might love him too.
“Can’t. Get. Enough. Of. You,” he growled into my ear. It was happening, just as he had said. Handcuffs chained me to his bed’s headboard as he thrust between my thighs.
“Same,” I groaned, and he lifted my legs to slam into me at a deeper, better angle, hitting my g-spot on each stroke inside. “Oh!”
“The sounds you make…” Nate trailed off as he changed the rhythm to his
pounding. “And you look so fucking good in handcuffs.”
“I look good in everything.”
“My girl is so modest.” His dazzling smile, while he propelled inside me, made my inner muscles clench down around him. His eyes rolled back for a moment, and he stopped thrusting. “Do that again.”
I did, and he resumed gazing at me like I was a Goddess straight out of some kind of sexual Heaven.
“Again,” he demanded. I vowed then and there to never deny him anything. When I tightened around him, he somehow felt even bigger, filling me to the absolute hilt.
“Nate,” I gasped and bucked. I wanted to run my hands down his chest or grab his back, but my arms were behind my head and firm handcuffs secured my wrists. “I’ve decided I don’t like handcuffs.”
He frowned, slowing down the pace of his thrusts. “They shouldn’t hurt.”
I inclined my head to kiss him. “They don’t. Though I would rather have a fuzzy, soft pair instead.”
“Hot pink?”
“You know I love bright colors.” He flexed his hips against mine, causing a grinding sensation that had me holding in a scream. I pulled on the handcuffs again, trying to get free. “I want to touch you, damn it.”
“So impatient.” One of his hands went down between us to rub me. I forgot what I was complaining about. “Just enjoy what I’m doing to you.”
“I want to do th-things—oh, right there—to you too.”
“There’s no rush.” Nate slowed down his rocking motions, and I nearly cried. “We can go as slow as we want. We have all the time in the world.”
“Move those hips faster, or I swear I will kill you.” He chuckled and did not listen to me. “What did I tell you about teasing?” I cried.
“You want it fast tonight?” His skin slapped against mine, loud and slick. Flesh pounded against flesh. My jaw dropped at the new speed at which he pistoned into me.
“Yes!”
“Hard?” He doubled the force behind each thrust, and my toes curled at the depth he reached.
“Yes!” After shuddering for the third time that day, a shriek ripped itself from my mouth.
“Come, Allie,” he ordered and nothing could have been sexier. After I came around him, squealing my pleasure, he called me his “Good girl.” Damn, that was sexier.
“That wasn’t too bad—”
“It was horrible,” Nate said, and I laughed at him. I rubbed a hand down his face to try to soothe away his frown, but he just looked at me like I was crazy.
“They helped.” The two partners we had for the history group project had agreed to meet up with us to choose the topic and work on the project. The two hours we were all together counted as wasted time as they did not pay attention and played on their phones.
Nate and I walked into my room to set up by my desk and put the final touches on the group assignment.
“They literally Googled the questions we asked them.” Nate, of course, had glared at them the whole time. He had also attempted again and again to take charge of the project, but I fought with him; it was group work for a reason. He was the type of guy to complain about having to do all the work but also fight to have control over every bit of the process. He was such a grump.
I loved a grump.
I smiled to myself, and his frown faded when he saw me.
“What are you thinking?”
Kissing him seemed like the appropriate response. I loved kissing him. I loved him. Coming to the realization was like sinking underwater, inevitable, ear-popping, eye-stinging, and consuming. I never thought feelings and love could be like this, like…home. My home had turned on me when my parents said I lied about Logan, and I had never come close to the feeling of such comfort as I had when I was with Nate.
He pulled away from the soft, emotion-filled kiss to say, “We need to finish the project.”
Ever the professional, my Nate. Mine.
“Yes, sir.” I winked at him, and he grunted. He took my bag from me and got my laptop out. “Go ahead and open the Word document, I’ll be right back,” I said.
Running to the bathroom, I moved as fast as I could because of the strong desire to be back with him. The level of need to be near him all the time was insane. Maybe it was because I had lacked loving affection and an amusing comrade for so long. Lucky for me, he would be an addiction I might never have to experience withdrawal from.
Walking back into my room, I found him staring stoically at my computer screen. Always the worker.
“If you think that hard, you really will break your brain,” I joked at his solemn and serious expression. This time he did not smile. I tilted my head and moved closer to him, glancing at what he had up on the screen.
It was my psychology paper starring his every issue and insecurity.
“What the fuck is this?”
Chapter 29
Nate:
* * *
“Did you hear me?” My voice came out gruffer and more aggressive than I meant it to, but nothing could change it. How could she have done this?
She had frozen at my original question; her eyes glazed over as she stared at me as if in a trance. Time to wake up and give me a God damned explanation.
I motioned to her computer. “I said, what the fuck is this?”
When she had left to use the bathroom, I had tried to pull up the group project document. Instead, this had popped up first. It was titled “Reactive-Detachment-Disorder Reddington.” I never knew a context existed for when alliteration was distasteful.
“It’s, um, my psychology paper,” she responded.
“You wrote about me?” Just like my ex. Using me and my secrets and my past for her own selfish gain.
Allie took a deep breath before letting out a quiet, “Yes.”
Betrayal stabbed me in the chest, making it hard to even breathe. “What’s reactive detachment disorder?” Breathe. Be calm. My fists clenched so hard, one of my knuckles cracked under the pressure. Anger. Hurt. God, the hurt.
“It’s caused by a lack of attachment to your guardians as a kid. It causes the child to have problems forming normal relationships when grown-up—”
“Problems with relationships?” Did I do something to her? “Did I make you think—”
“No.” She shook her head so quickly, I wondered if she grew dizzy from it. “No, you’ve been the perfect boyfriend. Perfect.”
“Then.” I ground my teeth on each word. “What. The. Hell.”
“The symptoms include issues with control, anger, and also having realistic expectations.”
“And you think I fit all of those?” Realistic expectations? How was that a problem? Sure, I liked control, but it was just what I preferred. But, anger? I had never shown my anger to her—other than beating up Logan.
“Given the complicated history you described with your parents, I believe I came to the best-fitting conclusion.”
Like I was an experiment.
Like none of this had mattered to her.
I tore my gaze from her and skimmed more of the paper. Dear God. She had written about my father. She had written about his abuse of me when I was young, and how he had stolen my money and was wanted by the FBI. What the fuck? I had trusted her, and she had taken all of my secrets and put them in a paper. Just like Abbie. Except different. Because Allie had not done it for a fat paycheck. She had destroyed me for fucking free.
“I can’t believe this.” Shock still strangled me. How could she have done this to us? Everything had been going so great. I loved her. I loved her. She had ripped out my heart and turned it in for a grade.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you finding out like—”
“A fucking paper?” I stood up from her desk, not wanting to read any more of it. “You used me for a fucking paper?”
“I think I’ll get an A on it if that matters,” she replied, her head down. Hell no. She would look at me as she revealed her betrayal. I deserved that much.
I lifted her chin so her eyes had n
owhere to go but on me. “So, I was just some nut job you thought you could fix? This whole time?”
“No.”
“Was all of this just some kind of experiment?” I had never spoken so loudly.
My brain worked in overtime, and I strived to remember anything to help me understand. She had told me before how she loved playing with me, making me lose control, and how she wanted to fix me. Had all of this been a game? Did my feelings mean nothing to her? I risked my position as an RA for her. I risked my future, Blue’s future. For her. I broke my rules for her.
“It was, wasn’t it?” It all clicked in my head. “Trying to see how far you could push me, how much you could get me to admit. You never said you love me; this was all a lie.”
“It wasn’t,” she cried, and every molecule of my being wanted to comfort her. No. I was the one who should be broken. How could she have done this? “I-It started as me wanting to learn more about you and help you. You fascinated me, and when my teacher described the paper, I thought you were perfect for it. But Nate, getting to know you—”
“Don’t.” I could not stand to hear anymore. She moved closer to me, putting her hands on my chest. My heart beat faster at her touch, and I hated it. I almost hated her.
“I fell in love with you,” she said.
“I said, don’t.” I raised my hands to run them through my hair to calm myself, and she flinched and jumped away from my action. Something flashed behind her eyes, but her expression gave nothing away. Yet, I knew what she thought. I knew her. “You thought I was going to fucking hit you?”
This was proof she did not trust me as much as she had let on. It really had all been an act. I turned to stone at the realization. All my life I had acted and put on mask after mask. Now I had gone and fallen in love with an A-plus actress, just to have my heart broken. Never. Again.
“Do you fuck all of your experiments?” I sneered.
“It wasn’t like that.” She fought with me, gaining her confidence again. She never did give up. It had been something I loved about her.