Bad Boy Blues(76)

When Zach’s done, he stands up and towers over me. There’s so much tension and lust in the air that I’m getting breathless.

I’m getting shy.

“You missed your lesson for tonight,” I tell him, just to say something.

I see his lopsided smile in the silver moonlight. “Lesson?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod, smiling too. “I’m your nerd tutor and you’re the jock who needs to pass the test or he won’t make the team.”

He reaches forward and traces the lace on the neck of my dress, looking at it like it’s the prettiest thing ever. “Yeah? What do I play?”

Shivering, I look him up and down. He’s tall and broad and he looks like he’s always bursting out of his clothes.

“Um, football?”

“Am I any good?” he asks, still fingering the lace like he can’t stop touching it.

“Yup. You’re the best. Only, you just can’t focus in class.”

He moves his fingers up my neck and grabs onto the curls of my hair, playing with them. “Why not?”

“Maybe because you’re always watching me,” I whisper, reveling in the tiny little ways he’s touching me.

“So you’re my classmate, too?”

“I am. I’m also very intelligent, ahead of my years, and that’s why they want me to tutor you.”

He chuckles. “So why do I watch you?”

I swallow and gravitate toward him. “At first, I think it’s to intimidate me. To make me feel less than you. Because you’re the prince of the college and I’m just… a blue-haired, weird girl.”

He glances up from where he was watching himself toy with my hair.

Boring his eyes into mine, Zach lets go of the strand and wraps his hand over the nape of my neck in possession. “But maybe I’m watching you because I can’t stop. Because you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And because your blue hair reminds me of the sky and the ocean. Freedom.”

Blood’s rushing just under my skin, painting everything scarlet. I’ve never been so awake in the middle of the night, so colored and flushed.

“Is that why you watched me in detention all the time?”

More often than not, I’d end up with detention and Zach used to be right there with me. Somehow, we’d always sit in the same places where we sat the first day we met. And all the while I kept my head down and away from him because I could feel his eyes on me.

“Yeah,” he whispers, flexing his fingers on my neck. “And to make you blush.”

I lightly slap his shoulder. “That was a very rude thing to do.”

Chuckling, he kisses me lightly.

This time, I’m the one who deepens it. I’m the one who invades his mouth and nips his lower lip, making him groan.

A second later though, he’s taking over.

His hands fist my nightie before pulling it up and off my body. Just like that, I’m nearly naked, standing there in my blue boy shorts.

In my head, I knew we were going to have sex. But somehow, I didn’t connect the dots that I’d have to be naked for it.

God, I’m naked.

I’m naked.

In front of a guy. In front of him. The most perfect specimen ever.

He’s made of hard, sculpted muscles that, yes, I know he works for every single day. And I’m made of pillowy, doughy fat that I get from all the candies I used to steal from the kitchen cabinet when Mom wasn’t looking.

I stare at my feet and try to picture myself naked. Big boobs, round stomach and wide hips with dimpled thighs. Oh, and all of it is whiter than the moon.

Zach takes in a deep breath and says, in a guttural tone, “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you naked?”

I look up and remember he said something similar about kissing me. “A thousand times?”

A puff of air escapes him and he nods.

He looks mesmerized as his gaze moves from one part of my body to another. He seems like he doesn’t know where to look first. His eyes are slightly wide and his mouth is parted.

I’m riddled with goose bumps everywhere. Everything on my skin is coarse and scratchy. Even my soft hair that brushes against the small of my back.

Zach puts his hand on the center of my chest, right in the middle of my heaving breasts. He splays his palm, touching both of them at the same time. “Jesus. The number of times I’ve jerked off imagining your tits. I can’t even tell you.”

He circles my left nipple with his thumb, shrinking it into a hard pebble. He loves playing with them; I know that. He loves waking them up, worrying them with his fingers, sucking them with his mouth.

His hand moves down and without my volition, my spine arches. He reaches my stomach and digs his thumb into my belly button.

Somehow, he’s pressing into that vein again. The one that swells and becomes taut every time he’s close, every time I think about him.

Zach’s breathing has become harsh as he keeps going. His hand travels down, rough and enticing, and slides inside my panties. The moment he touches my drenched core my legs go taut and my heels leave the floor.

I’m standing on my tiptoes, hardly able to balance myself.

He moves toward me and our bodies meet, me naked and exposed and him still wearing his t-shirt and jeans, burning me with their friction.