Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(49)

When she finally moves on, he abruptly switches off the vibrator. My mouth drops open; I’m about ready to give him hell for being such a fucking tease—but before I can, he pulls the vibrator away, tosses it into the plastic bag from the store, and hauls me into the bathroom at the end of the car.

“What—”

“Need to taste you so fucking bad,” he says as he presses me against the door and slides the lock into place. The train rocks, and I nearly fall, but he holds me up. He looks as desperate as I feel, licking his lips, his backward baseball cap knocked askew. I swear his irises are several shades darker. He drops to his knees, onto a floor that has to be filthier than the closet we first hooked up in, and sticks his head right up my skirt.

Stars burst in my vision as his tongue swipes over my clit. He groans like he’s the one being pleasured, nuzzling his beard against my folds. “You’re my favorite taste in the whole goddamn world.”

I knock his baseball cap off his head so I can grab his hair, pushing his face right where I want it. The train sways again, and I nearly go with it; my legs are like jelly, but he saves me before I ruin the whole thing by concussing myself on the metal sink built into the wall. My pleasure reaches the peak it had been hovering at throughout the conversation with the conductor. If he pushes just a little harder, gives me a finger or a bite, I’ll come all over his face. Yet he continues to tease me, and his words echo in my mind like a pinball.

That’s just what boys say, right? Pleasure makes them ramble. You can never trust what a guy says in bed. Or a train bathroom, apparently.

The door rattles loudly. I freeze, but Cooper just keeps going. I stuff my fist into my mouth to keep from making noise, and good thing, because he works two fingers into me at once. I clench around him, and he moans, turning his face into my thigh and biting down. I dig my fingers into his hair in retaliation, tugging hard.

Whoever is on the other side tries the door again. I stifle a hysterical giggle. If the lock breaks and we’re banned from Metro-North forever, I’m making Cooper drive me into the city whenever I want.

“Fantastic,” a voice says. I listen hard for the sound of footsteps, and when it’s clear we’re not on the verge of being walked in on, I relax, but only for a moment, because Cooper seems determined to make me lose any scrap of decency I have left. As he pushes in a third finger, I plummet over the edge, dropping my fist so I can cry out.

He’s on his feet in an instant, cupping my face in his hands and leaning in to kiss me. I taste myself on his tongue as I work my hand into his pants, gripping him tightly. He moans into my mouth, pressing me against the door with enough of his weight that I feel deliciously trapped. The train slows to a stop, which I’m grateful for because I still feel wobbly but would very much like to be on my knees to return the favor. When he sees where I’m going with this, he braces himself against the wall with his hand, dropping the other to my hair.

When I went to the bathroom with Bex, she asked me if we were dating. I told her the truth—a big fat no—but now I imagine it more concretely. Would it look just like this? Day trips into the city, double dates with his brother? Mind-blowing sex and deep conversations about literature? Maybe a label would change the whole thing. Maybe it would force us into territory that neither of us is equipped to handle.

As I take him into my mouth, he sighs, like I really am offering him much needed, much anticipated relief, and strokes his hand through my hair. I look up at him through my lashes; his eyes are screwed shut, his mouth slack. He’s so beautiful it hurts. I’m too scared to name, even in my mind, the tendril of emotion running through me.

It would shift things inexorably. I could lose whatever relationship I’ve rebuilt with my father. I doubt I could handle it, anyway. Following The List gives us structure. We’re friends, but there are strings attached. An invisible expiration date. I need the strings to tether me down, and once he’s captain, this whole thing will probably fizzle out. The friendship and the hookups both.

But I can’t deny that I haven’t felt this happy or settled in a long time. Here, specifically, on my knees in a bathroom on a moving train, hoping that I can drink down the come of the guy who just told me I’m his favorite taste of all.

Am I everything Preston’s family said I am?

It didn’t hurt when Cooper called me a slut. I felt treasured. Special. I know he meant it the same way he calls me Red. But I’ve been called that before, and back then, it hurt worse than almost anything.

Maybe in between the two, there’s a way forward.

It just can’t be Cooper by my side when I figure it out.





28





PENNY





October 23rd


Mia



He did what????





I know





Holy shit





I KNOW





This is even more wild than the bondage thing





Good for you





I can’t even. He’s like a gigantic puppy one second, and a wolf the next





Sounds like good inspiration for your book





I may have changed the dude’s name