The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(79)

“What?” he asks, lifting a brow at me. He looks almost as nervous as I do.

“Just … us.” I lift my head up and chew on my lip for a moment, glancing sideways at my reflection I the mirrored wall. I hardly recognize myself, with that short rose-gold hair. The only damage from the Harpies’ attack was that it’s a bit shorter on the sides than it was before. Miranda cleaned it all up, so there wouldn’t be any patchy spots, and I have to say, it honestly looks better than it did before. “Me and you. We’re so nervous.”

He laughs then, and swipes a big hand down his face.

“That’s true,” he admits as the door opens and we step into the hall. I wait anxiously as Zack unlocks the door to his dorm and steps aside, so I can go in. He doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, instead moving over to the living room window and tosses aside the curtains. The sun is sinking behind the horizon, but there’s still plenty of orange-gold light to see by.

“You … you’re not a virgin, are you?” I ask in a whisper, wondering with a small twinge of jealousy what might’ve happened if he hadn’t walked away from me in middle school, if he’d stuck around and our relationship had bloomed from the seed of that first kiss. Then again, maybe he wasn’t ready? Maybe I wasn’t?

“N-no.” Zack pauses and turns to look at me, exhaling sharply. “But I’m clean. I …” He scowls briefly and moves over to the kitchenette area, taking a manila folder off the stone countertop and handing it over to me. “Zayd and Tristan heard me talking about having tests done, and they fucking copied me.”

“Oh, so you thought of it first?” I tease as I flip open the folder and scan the pages inside. My cheeks heat up as I close it and hand it back. This is all so very adult. What happened between me and Creed was a little … messier.

“Pretty much,” Zack teases, tossing the folder aside, and stepping forward. He puts his hands on either side of my hips and pins me against the counter with his body. His sporty smell is all around me, an aphrodisiac that lures me into boldness. “Is there anything else you want to know about … any past girlfriends? Because I only want to say it once, and then I want to move on. Fuck them all. They’re nothing compared to you.”

“Don’t demean other women like that,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “Saying things like you’re not like other girls is a tool of the patriarchy. Actually, did you know that in the 1920s—”

“Oh, fuck yeah, keep talking history and politics,” Zack murmurs, undulating his hips against me, so I can feel his hard-on through his jeans. “It’s hot as hell.”

“Liar,” I whisper, but then he reaches down and takes my hand, putting it on his crotch. His eyes are molten when I look up and into them.

“Does that feel like a lie?” he asks, and I almost excuse myself to the bathroom to squeal. Several times this year, I’ve woken up, looked around, and wondered whose life this is. It’s surreal.

“How many girls have you slept with?” I ask, and Zack pauses, like he has to think for a moment.

“Five.”

I cringe, and he shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Before this is all over, you might have five guys under your belt, Marnye.” He cups the side of my face and rubs a thumb up the side of my jaw. He’s right though. What morality dais do I have to stand on and judge him? What even is morality anyway? And is that really a debate I want to have with myself while my hand is cupping Zack Brooks’ crotch? No. Nope. Definitely not. “Anything else? Names? Circumstances?”

“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “No, that’s enough. Thank you.”

“Can I focus on making love to you now?” he asks, and my face flushes.

“Making love?” I squeak as Zack sweeps me up into his muscular arms and carries me into his bedroom. He opens his curtains, so we can see the sunset, and then chucks his shirt. His body is a freaking wonderland. Broad shoulders, trim waist, those perfect ‘V’ muscles on his hips. I’m practically drooling as I look him over. The only thing I’m not a huge fan of is the infinity tattoo on his right hip.

“Making love, Marnye. I told you before and I’ll say it again. I’m not fucking ashamed of it. I love you.”

“Stop it, Zack,” I whisper, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing that. He kicks off his shoes and socks, and then yanks my flats off, tossing them against the wall. The letterman jacket he leaves on me.

“Why is that so hard for you to accept?” he asks as he crawls onto the bed and pauses above me on all fours. His brown eyes are so deep that I feel like I could fall into them and tumble forever. “You’re worthy of my love and then some. Sometimes I wonder if the universe is trying to teach me a lesson by giving you so many goddamn boyfriends. I’m not enough. You deserve it all.”

“Zack.” I put my hands on either side of his face, and he leans down to kiss, tasting my mouth with slow, easy motions, carefully settling himself on top of me, so that our bodies are melded together. His fingers push up my dress the same way he did in the car, but this time, there’s nobody around to see.

He finds my panties and then draws back, separating from my mouth with a groan.

“You taste so damn good,” Zack whispers, pulling the pink heart-patterned panties all the way off and chucking them onto the floor. Gently, carefully, he pushes my knees apart, and my heart thunders. It was dark when Creed and I had sex. It’s definitely not dark in here. At first, the thought of Zack looking at me freaks me out. “You’re beautiful, Marnye. Every single part of you.”