All Played Out (Rusk University #3) (16 page)

I step in close to her, and she has to tip her head back to meet my gaze. She has these big honey eyes, and when I’m this close I feel like I can almost see right through them to the thoughts beneath. She’s excited. But feels guilty for being excited. It doesn’t help that we can both still hear the couple on the other side. They’re trying to be quiet, but given how close Nell and I are, the slight squeak of the shelves and their labored breaths are evident. I plant my hands on her hips, holding her in place, and keep eye contact. Whatever just happened . . . I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t. Again and again tonight, she’s been shedding layers of her shyness, and I need it to continue.

I lean in close, and with my cheek against hers and the sound track of horny college kids still going in the background, I whisper, “I’m so fucking hard for you right now.”

I can feel her swallow, the way it moves through her whole body.

“Did you do this on purpose? For that stupid Sweet Six thing?”

I grin, and move my hands from her hips to her waist, digging my fingers into her flesh. “You really think I would do something this elaborate to get you here?”

She pulls away slightly so I can see her lift one dark brow in response. “I think that sounds exactly like something you would do.”

I lean back to her ear and murmur, “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve still got a lot to get to know about me. I’m all for fun and games, but when I want something, I don’t bother with games. I’m not patient enough for that.”

“So this is just a coincidence?”

“There have been a number of unexpected benefits to tonight. And what? Did you think I planned for
them
to be here, too? Like I had any idea that watching other people hook up would get you hot.”

“It’s not that,” she snaps, and at the same time a loud groan comes from the next row over. A series of noises follow that are less sexy and more comical, and I have to bury my face in Nell’s hair to keep from laughing. The guy is still groaning, and the girl is whispering for him to wait, to hold on a little longer. He doesn’t. The shelves stop squeaking and the girl lets out a distinctly disappointed sigh. We stay silent and listen to the other couple shuffling, whispering, and rearranging their clothes. The thud of footsteps lets us know they’re leaving, and as they round the corner and pass by our row, Nell buries her head into my chest, mortified.

When they’re out of earshot, we collapse into each other laughing. We’re not quiet. Hell, they can probably still hear us, but I don’t give a damn. Especially when I pull back to catch sight of Nell’s face. Her eyes and nose are scrunched up, and she keeps alternating between pressing her fingers to her cheek and covering her forehead. Her cheeks are flushed with more color than I would have thought possible for someone with her skin tone. Her embarrassment should just be amusing or cute, but somehow even this side of her seems sexy to me.

“So what is it, then?” I ask now that we’re alone. “If it’s not watching that turns you on, what is it?”

She tries to shy away from me, but I’ve got her trapped between my body and the books. She chews at her bottom lip, and her chin bobs a few times, like she’s trying to pluck up the courage. “I just find it interesting how everything . . .
works
.”

I can’t hold in my laugh. “So it’s just biology for you? That’s what does it? Like watching animal mating habits in a zoo?”

Her eyes narrow, and she shoves me backward. She tries to flee, but I grab hold of her hips and pull her back against my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. I swear. I just want to know what you like. It’s entirely selfish. You’ve got your list, and I’ve got mine. And knowing what it takes to get you off is right at the top for me.”

Her expression is still wary, but her hands rest against my chest now instead of trying to push me away. “I wasn’t talking about how sex works. I’ve known that since I read a disturbingly informative book in the third grade. It’s about how . . . the rest of it works. Attraction. Desire. Pleasure. I’m fascinated not just by the movements and the actions, but what fills in the blanks. What turns something from stimulating to . . .”

I’m not sure how her talking scientifically about sex is turning me on, but it is. Could have something to do with hearing the world “pleasure” come out of those plump lips of hers.

“From stimulating to what?”

“Orgasmic.”

Yep. Definitely turned on. That’s it for me. I’m fucking done for.

“So you like the idea of watching because it’s like an experiment to you? A study?” She nods. “What about doing your own experiment? To see what
fills in the blanks
for you?”

Lifting my hand, I run a finger down the side of her neck, and her hands clench against my chest. I cup her neck in both hands, reaching my thumbs up to glide along the soft skin of her jaw. Her body alternates between surrendering to my touch and tensing up. With each swipe of my thumbs, she wavers. But I can’t tell if she’s resisting because of nerves or because she doesn’t want this for some other reason. One of those, I think I can fix.

“I—” she starts, then cuts herself off with a deep inhale.

Gently, I rub my fingers against the nape of her neck, trying to calm her down, and she sighs. “There are some things I
can
be patient for, you know. On the field, I have to know just the right moment to break away from my defender. Too soon, and he’ll catch up to me before I catch the ball. Too late, and I miss my window of opportunity. So, while I do go after what I want full force, I know how to wait until the time is right.”

When I’m done talking, my massaging of her neck has her eyes half closed, but she lifts her lids enough to pin me with her gaze.

“Thanks for the football metaphor, now tell me plainly what you’re saying.”

I swallow a laugh. The way her confidence around me has grown is nothing short of stunning. If I were a more poetic guy, I’d compare it to seeing a flower bloom before my eyes. But that’s not me, so all I can say is it’s hot. Unbelievably hot. Every time she goes toe-to-toe with me, I just want more.

“I’m saying that I’d love to be the person to help satisfy your curiosity, the one to help you figure out what you like. But I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give.” I’d like to tell her that she has control in this aspect of things, but I can’t promise that. The need to feel her surrender to me is too strong for that. But it requires trust. I need her to be able to turn off the thoughts that are always running through her head, and she won’t do that until she believes she can.

I use the hand at her neck to draw her a little closer, dipping my own head down at the same time. “So the question is,” I begin, “how much are you willing to give me, Nell?”

Her gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes, as if she might see something different in the left than the right. I draw a thumb over her bottom lip, pulling at it enough that I can feel the warm exhale of her breath on my skin. “This?” I ask her. “Can I have this?”

I lean down to take her mouth. The look in her eyes is response enough for me, but before I get there, she closes her lips over my thumb. The tentative slide of her tongue nearly brings me to my knees. Then she sucks at my finger, and just like that, she’s stolen the control right from under me.

I like experimental Nell. I like her so damn much.

Chapter 17

Nell’s To-Do List

I
t was an impulsive move. I had a hazy memory of him doing this to me when I was drunk the other night, and I remember that it felt like all my bones had gone liquid. My response had surprised me. Never in a million years would I have thought that such a thing could have that strong an effect on me. And I’d just wanted to, I don’t know . . . return the favor.

But now my brain isn’t blurred by alcohol, and I’m intensely aware that I’m standing in a library where anyone could walk by . . . sucking on his thumb. And I’d just admitted to a hugely embarrassing fascination for watching another couple’s intimacy, and
seriously
what is wrong with me? I’m such a freak.

God, I’m doing this all wrong. I don’t know how to be sexy, how to be . . .
this
.

Just when I’m about to pull away, Mateo’s body collapses against mine, and his teeth nip the lobe of my ear. My mouth falls open on a gasp, and his wet thumb rubs across the circle of my lips before dipping back inside.

Does that mean this is good? That I’m not making a fool of myself?

“You’re killing me, Nell.” In response, I swirl my tongue around his thumb again, and he groans. His hot breath sends a shiver down my spine. “Do you know how bad I want you? Do you have any idea?”

He drags his thumb from my mouth and moves to press his forehead against mine. Seconds later, the lower half of his body leans into mine, too.

I can feel him, hot and hard against my stomach. He’s wearing gym shorts, and I’m shocked by how much I can feel through the layers of our clothes. And while I’m still marveling at the feel of him, he kisses me, his lips demanding my attention.

Our last kiss had been long and exploratory. We’d barely known each other then. And though I still don’t know the facts of him—I don’t know about his family or his childhood or how he sees his future—I do feel like I know him. And God knows he knows plenty about me. And this kiss? There’s nothing slow or introductory about it. His tongue drives into my mouth, punishing and seeking and coaxing all at the same. His hands grip the shelves on either side of me, caging me in so he can press his body flush against mine. I bring my own hands up around his waist to clutch at his back. He changes the angle of our kiss, somehow pushing even harder, and I dig my fingers into his back to hold on.

He makes a noise into the kiss that’s almost a growl and trails his mouth down to my neck. He reaches around to take my hands from his back, and then pushes them against the shelves behind me. Pinning my hands out to my sides, he continues his assault up my neck and back to my mouth.

Some part of me had thought that I was exaggerating the rawness of our kisses in the pool. I’d expected that if Mateo ever kissed me again, it would be more like his personality is every day. Teasing and light and just a little overwhelming.

But there’s something primal and dominant in him that doesn’t come out except in moments like this. I feel like it should make me nervous, especially with my arms trapped against the shelves, but I like that he’s in control, that he knows what he’s doing whenever I don’t.

Against my mouth, he says, “I need to touch you. Let me touch. That’s all.”

We’re in public. We could be caught at any moment. For all I know, someone could be watching us right now. I should say no.
Be smart, Nell. Say no.
“Okay.”

Oh, to hell with being smart.

While his mouth conquers mine, building and stoking a fire that feels barely contained inside me, he slides both of my hands above my head so he can hold them there with one hand. I suck in a breath, feeling my spine tense with anticipation. His fingers slide along the waistband of my yoga pants. He strokes gently from one hip, over my slightly rounded belly, to my other hip. Then his hand slips beneath the fabric, beneath my underwear, and his fingers touch me where only I have ever touched. Instinctively, I shy away, trying to pull my hips back, but the shelves behind me stop my retreat.

He breaks the kiss to return to my ear, his hand stilling against me. He kisses the shell and whispers to me, “Just breathe. I only want to make you feel good. Can I do that? I’ll be gentle.”

I swallow, glad that I don’t have to look him in the eye, and nod.

“Not good enough. I need a yes. I need you to say it. Before I make you fall apart, right here, I need to know you want my hand there as much as I do.”

I can’t bring myself to do more than whisper when I say, “I want it.”

Then he’s looking me in the eye, and smirking, and his fingers drag over damp flesh. “We’ll work on your volume later when we’re not in public.”

Everything clenches in response to his whispered words. How will I ever be able to enter this library again without blushing?

He circles a finger around my most sensitive spot, immediately homing in on what it took me several fumbling tries to find on my own the first time I touched myself there.

I clench my teeth and force myself to breathe out of my nose to stay silent. His hand above my head shifts, and he turns one of my hands around. “Hold on to this shelf.”

He doesn’t stop his ministrations down below, so it takes me a few seconds to comply. When I do, he squeezes my hand beneath his, making me grip the shelf harder. “Keep your hands there. Don’t let go.”

I bite my lip to keep from replying, though at this point I have no idea what I would say. No? Yes, please? Make unintelligible noises?

I hang on tight to the shelf above me and fix my gaze on a point on the ceiling. His fingers circle again, and then slide back to dip inside me for the first time. The muscles in my thighs tense, and I breathe in through my nose.

“Hey,” Mateo says at the same time that he slips his other hand beneath my shirt to cup my breast. “Why are you holding back?” He leans in to kiss my clenched jaw. “Relax for me.”

He thumbs at my nipple through the material of my bra, and I squeeze my eyes shut. He does it again, pumping his finger inside me at the same time, and instinctively I pull my thighs closer together, whether to trap his hand or resist it, I’m not even sure.

He kisses me hard, but his hands are moving and there’s so much going on that I can barely react. I let him kiss me, but I’m too concentrated on the aching pull between my thighs.

Closer. Closer.

After a few moments he pulls back, abandoning my breast to bury a hand in my hair and force my eyes on him. “Relax,” he tells me again, his voice so commanding it sends a shiver down my spine.

“I
am
relaxed.”