Haven’t done this for a guy in forever. Haven’t done this since...Eli.
Usually when I thought his name, he responded. But this time, there was only silence, broken by Max’s breathing. As I widened the focus, massaging his whole head, he made the sexiest sound, somewhere between a groan and a rumble of pleasure. I pretended I didn’t feel anything, no kindling heat, no desire to circle my hips. It was tough but I kept still. Just as well, because Max moved enough for both of us. He rubbed against my fingers, turning side to side, until my fingers cramped, and even then I kept rubbing.
“This is so good,” he mumbled.
“I hate to make you move, but I have to pee.”
“No problem.” He rolled more than got up, seeming boneless, and flopped over on his stomach with a contented moan.
Okay, I had been so fucking good on this trip, but I was so done. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I pulled my leggings down and leaned back against the door. I was so fucking horny that this shouldn’t take long. Touching two fingers to my slick labia, I couldn’t completely strangle my gasp. The bed creaked outside, as if Max had shifted. Did he hear me? I was hot enough that I didn’t care. Listen, if you want.
This position wasn’t ideal, but there was no way I’d risk the tub or floor. So I had to make it work. I remembered his heat, his smell, the weight of him in my arms, and my excitement ratcheted up. All kinds of dirty fantasies spun in my head, incoherent images of Max and me, naked, straining together. I strummed my fingers against my clit, wishing for more pressure, more— I pictured his face and came, unable to muffle the whimpers completely.
Legs still shaky, I washed my hands four times, worried that the bathroom smelled of sex.
God, this is embarrassing. I hope he doesn’t know. I should’ve made myself calm down, waited until we got home. It was only one more night.
But you want him, Eli said. There’s nothing wrong with that.
There had been a couple of guys since he’d died, but nobody who mattered emotionally. Completely bewildered by the chaos in my head, I leaned against the mirror for a minute, as if an extreme close-up of my face could clear things up. When I ventured out, Max was asleep or pretending to be. Thankful for small mercies, I quietly crept into bed beside him. On the plus side, I was no longer crazily aware of his every movement and my mental state had caught up with physical exhaustion.
I was nearly dozing when he reached for me in his sleep, and with an ache in my throat, I let it happen. Just for tonight, I’d imagine this was where I was supposed to be.
CHAPTER TEN
Coming home was wonderful...and terrible.
The former because I had my own bed back and the latter because Max wasn’t in it. But Kia was all moved in, which was a plus. She’d remembered what I said about my mild OCD and the room wasn’t disorganized. It was strange seeing her furniture instead of Nadia’s¸ all white and modern; her comforter was patterned in bright hues, reminiscent of paint splatters. Overall, Kia had great taste. I loved the abstract prints she’d hung up, both modern and aesthetically appealing. The room definitely needed the color since I leaned toward black and gray, monochrome all the way.
The first week, it was hard getting back to routine, but soon I was bumming rides to campus with Angus, just like always. People who lived closer went home between classes; I usually holed up in the library or napped in the sun in the quad. Some things didn’t change. Late summer suited Mount Albion; the lush green foliage made the grounds seem stately and impressive. I wasn’t paying much attention to the scenery, however, as I rushed from the coffee shop to the business building.
Since I was in a hurry, I nearly ran into someone coming up the steps. I mumbled, “Excuse me,” and was ready to rush past when the girl put her hand on my arm.
“Courtney?”
Great.
I had zero desire ever to see Amy Fuller again. After I broke it off with her, she’d spread rumors about how I’d gotten her drunk and seduced her. That really hurt because I’d cared about her; I just wasn’t up to the investment of time and energy that making her happy required. She’d needed constant reassurance about my level of interest and desire. Toward the end, nothing I did was enough; no words or gesture would’ve convinced her.
“How’ve you been?” The question was courtesy, nothing else. According to a surreptitious peek at my phone, I had four minutes to get to class.
“Oh, you know. Getting by.”
“It was great to see you, but I have to go. Take care.”
Before I could brush by, she said, “Wait?”
“I’m not dodging you, my class starts in three minutes.”
“Okay, well, would you consider going for coffee with me afterward? I’ll wait.” A pleading look from her big blue eyes made me cave. “And I’ll drive you home.”
I’d always been susceptible to Amy, as she well knew. Two minutes. “Fine. Meet you back here.”
At that point I had to run and I barely made it into my seat before the professor strode in. My mind was never 100 percent on these classes—luckily I was smart enough to make it up by reading the material on my own later—but today distraction kept showing me shiny things, making me doodle all over my notebook. As class ended, I realized I’d sketched out the Chinese dragon on Max’s back. I only needed to shade it with a red marker for my obsession to be complete.
Sighing, I gathered my stuff. This was one of those big lecture halls, practically stadium seating, and I followed the rest of the students down from the back. Since it was the only class I had of this size, I didn’t expect the professor to know my name, let alone call me over. It was only my third time in his class, the second week of school.
“Miss Kaufman, may I speak with you a moment?”
Nodding, I switched course, turning toward him. “Yes?”
“I’ve noticed you haven’t done any internships, nothing outside coursework. I’m concerned that will hurt you later.”
“Why?”
Professor Tompkins raised his brows at me. He was in his late fifties, fairly fit, with a bald spot he tried valiantly to cover with a devoted comb-over. Unless I missed my guess, he was a plastic surgery aficionado. There were telltale signs near his jaw and eyes. Since my mother loved having things nipped and tucked, I had practice picking up even on good work.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m just wondering at your interest. Did my academic advisor ask you to intervene?” Since I hadn’t seen the woman since my sophomore year, I doubted it.