The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)(8)

So f*cking ready.

“I’m ready Jim.” I chuckle. “Lay one on me.”

As she presses her body closer, I catch a whiff of what smells like baby powder and something floral. I inhale, staring down at her chest. I mean, since her boobs are squished against me, I might as well take advantage—and shockingly, she lets me.

Rises to her toes. Flutters her lashes.

Purses her pouty lips.

I expect a chaste kiss to settle on my cheek, just a brush of her lips, or a quick peck on my jawline.

I’ve never been so wrong in my entire f*cking life.

And truthfully, I’ve never been this turned on either. Trying to get James to kiss me has been fun, an actual, honest to God, chase—one I’ve enjoyed every second of.

So I watch her lips and revel in the feel of her—

Stop it f*cker.

Focus.

Jameson’s warm hands cup my face, cradling my jaw. Her thumbs begin a slow, steady stroke along my cheeks, gliding back and forth until my neck tilts involuntarily, eyelids getting heavy as I watch her in wonder. I’m truly enthralled as this weird, unassuming stranger searches my eyes.

Instinctually, my lips seek the contact of her palm, wanting to place a kiss there. As if sensing my intention, her head gives a shake. “Don’t.”

A whisper.

A sigh.

Her buttons dig deeper still into my chest when she arches higher on her tiptoes to rest her lips against the outside corner of my mouth.

Rests them there, inhaling. Presses those lips to one side, then the other.

My bottom lip.

Gives my cupid’s bow a quick flick of the tongue.

My nostrils flare as I stand, ramrod straight and stiff, waiting…waiting until Jameson pulls back, her smooth hands lingering, never leaving my person, blue eyes memorizing every detail of my face.

Debating.

My dark, hawk-like gaze follows the teeth that drag over her lower lip and pull, follow the tongue darting out to moisten her mouth.

I don’t move a single muscle in my body, but can’t help goading her. “I don’t have all day here.”

“Shhhh,” she admonishes. “Quiet please. When you talk, it makes me want to slap some sense into you.”

Her pink mouth hovers just a breath away, teasing, the air between us growing oddly combustible. The energy between our lips emits a slight electric sizzle that I’ll lie in bed questioning later—but for now, my dick twitches inside my dark jeans and my fists clench and unclench at my sides, fighting to gain some control of the situation.

It proves impossible.

My legs get restless, and suddenly adrenaline is coursing through my entire body. I could do a hundred laps around campus—which is so f*cking ridiculous.

She’s not even my usual type—blonde, stupid, and easy.

She’s a nobody, and I don’t screw nobodies.

Not usually.

Lips pursed, she finally presses them over mine.

Sighs.

My lips part and like a good girl, she slides her tongue unhurriedly inside.

I’m hard. So f*cking hard.

Jameson tastes fresh—like peppermint gum and strawberries—and suddenly I find my hands circling her slim waist, pulling her flush to my body so I can grind my erection into her thigh as our lips part. Farther. My tongue seeks its way inside...all the way inside.

As deep as a lifeline.

Within seconds we’re making out like unsupervised high school students in their parents’ basement, right in the middle of the damn library, surrounded by our peers.

I groan when she bites my bottom lip then sucks on it.

From behind, I hear my * teammates at the table across the room catcalling—not loudly enough that the librarian will come over, but loud enough that Jameson breaks the kiss, pushing back on my solid rock of a heaving chest with a moan, distancing herself, hand poised at her lips.

After a few steadying breaths, she breathily asks, “Was that good enough for a payday? Satisfied now?”

Fuck no. “I won’t be satisfied until I’m f*cking you on a table in a study room.” I grapple for her hand. “Come on.”

Her eyes widen in surprise when I reach forward to grab her arms. Intention: pull her back in for another kiss. Reality: she evades me, sidestepping away, her ass hitting the table, jostling the lamp, and knocking her pens off the edge with a clatter. An unsteady hand flies to her swollen lips, gently caressing them with the pads of her fingertips.

“I’m not that kind of girl.”

My blazing eyes take her in, head to toe: jeans, white tee, black cardigan, gleaming pearls.

Pearls. Jesus H. Christ.

“Then what kind of girl are you? One that’s not into having a good time? Or are you just a tease?”

I visualize the scene with her in my mind. Haphazardly shoving our books off the table to the floor. Clearing it off so I can set her on the edge. Slide off her jeans. Caress her in places…all over. Inside places with my dick. Her clit while I watch her come, spread out on the study room table.

“You won your bet,” James begins slowly, smoothing a hand down her ponytail. “You’ve won your money, and I’ve mollified my curiosity.” Her big blue eyes, guarded now, roam to the table where Zeke and Dylan sit, watching. “You should go. Your friends are waiting.”

I give a jerky nod, my hand reaching down to dramatically adjust the hard-on in my pants. “Thanks for the blue balls.”