The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(66)
Imagine the things they’d do while I slept.
“The presidential suite,” Creed says, yawning. I don’t think he means to be disrespectful (although he probably doesn’t care much about the lush splendor surrounding us). He just … well, he’s always yawning and lounging and draping himself over furniture. “Your bed is through that door”—he points at it, and then scowls—“and, unfortunately, I have to share the other one with my sister.”
“A massive suite like this, and it only has two beds?” I ask, moving over to the windows and covering my mouth with both hands. We’ve got a two hundred and seventy degree view of the city. I can see the Golden Gate Bridge as well as Alcatraz. It’s beyond amazing. I’m so excited by it that when Creed saunters up beside me, one hand tucked into his pocket, I throw my arms around his neck and give him a huge squeeze.
Miranda watches us from the seating area, smiling tightly. When I finish hugging her brother, I hug her, too. She laughs and pats my back, pushing me back a step. I notice that her cheeks are flushed pink though, and her pulse is pounding. Maybe she’s still crushing on me? My own cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“It's ridiculous, right?” Miranda says, dragging her suitcase toward the bedroom on the opposite side of the suite. “You can fit twenty people in this room, but you can only really sleep four at most.”
She shrugs her shoulders and returns to the bedroom, closing the door behind her as I return my focus to the wall of windows. The only plans for tonight include a late dinner in the restaurant downstairs, but otherwise we’re attending the symphony tomorrow, and the ballet on Sunday. On Monday, we have a whole day to explore the museums.
"She really likes you, you know," Creed says, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. "Don't you dare break her heart," he warns me, moving over to stand beside me and cupping my chin with his long fingers. "Don't you break mine either."
Creed leans in to kiss me, and I lift up on my toes to meet him halfway, curling my fingers around his lean but still muscular shoulders.
Our kiss sears every part of me, my lips, my heart, my soul. It amps up like it did in the library and I pull away before Miranda can come out and see us. Creed makes a little groaning sound as I pull away, his fingers sliding along the curve of my waist until they finally drop by his side.
His eyes linger on me until I disappear behind my bedroom door, and I have to take a minute to sit down the edge of my bed and breathe before I have enough mental energy to get up and change for dinner.
Every time they touch me, I feel something shift inside, this wild heat awakening in my body that I don't know what to do with. It's almost painful, how much I want them.
That feeling, it isn't going to last long without pulling me apart completely.
We all dress up for the symphony, the boys in tuxes, and the girls in long, glittery dresses. I wear a white gown that feels a bit like a wedding dress, but that I can't really complain about since I stole it from Miranda. And when I say stole, what I really mean is that she brought over heaps of clothes to my dorm room and made me try on a bunch until I found something that fit.
The symphony and, the following day, the ballet, are just as magnificent as I hoped they'd be. Seeing the harpist onstage was mesmerizing, definitely something to shoot for.
"If I hadn't already decided I wanted to be a professor, I'd seriously start thinking about making a career out of music." I'm lying on my bed next to Creed, still dressed in the long white gown with the slit that goes all the way up to the hip, while he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his jacket.
"You want to be a professor?" he asks, glancing over at me. We're hanging out while Miranda showers in the other room, my barefoot bumping up against his shiny Barker Blacks as I wiggle my toes.
A smile takes over my lips as I glance Creed’s way, meeting that heavy-lidded stare of his and feeling a small thrill go through me. Don't think of the hot tub, I tell myself, but then of course, that's all I can think about.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm pretty good at school." I shrug my shoulders and then lean back into the pillows. "And I like it, too. If I could, I'd be a professional student for the rest of my life."
Creed smirks and then sits up to remove his jacket, tossing it casually onto the floor. He turns on his side to look at me, propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes trace the neckline of my dress, and I reach a hand up unconsciously to tease my collarbone with my fingers.
"Isn't that what grad school is for?" he asks, scooting just a little closer to me and reaching up with long fingers to pull my sleeve down my shoulder. He leans in and presses a warm kiss to my already heated skin. "Just be a doctor, and you'll be going to school for most of your life anyway." He gives a lazy cat's grin, and scoots a little closer, putting his right arm on the left side of my body so that he’s partially covering my upper half.
"I like the academic environment," I say, struggling to control my breathing. With the way Creed is laying, my natural instinct is to lean up into him, wrap an arm around his neck, and kiss him. "I want to go to Bornstead, and if things work out, I'd like to teach there one day, too. I've already started working on my application." Creed raises his eyebrows, and looks at me like I'm crazy.