Page 18 of The Very First Night

“Not yet, it’s definitely better than when I worked in Eastway.”

The Eastway Center is across the street from Beall-McDowell and houses the most freshmen in one place on campus. It is home to four freshman-only dorm buildings and it is where I lived freshman year, as well as where I met Jenna.

It is also pure chaos during welcome weekend.

Freshly minted eighteen-year-olds flexing their freedom for the first time is never pretty, so I feel for Rochelle in that respect.

“Yeah, that sounds awful,” I laugh.

As we pass the polished wooden counter and the generic common area with uncomfortable couches, I let out a sigh of exhaustion. We enter the elevator, and I press the “8” button before leaning against the cool metal wall.

It isn’t until the elevator almost reaches my floor that I realize Elijah didn’t leave once we got to the lobby. If he were any other man, I’d make a remark about it, assuming and all that. However, in this moment I kind of want him to assume. I would thoroughly like for him to come back to my room, despite the fact that we just met and we haven’t so much as been on a date.

“Awfully presumptuous of you to come upstairs, no?” I look up at him with a stern expression that quickly melts into a grin.

“What are you implying, Katarina? I am nothing but a gentleman.” He winks with a smile just before the door opens on my floor. He stands there, clearly taking what I said more to heart than I intended.

I turn around, my feet flush with the low-pile carpet in the hallway as he lingers in the metal enclosure.

“Are you coming?” I laugh.

“Do you want me to?”

I pause before I say, “Yes.”

Then, as we’re standing in front of my bedroom door, I start to feel the effects of the concoction of liquor.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he presses his hand to my back again, goosebumps peppering my arms at the touch.

“Yeah, just finally feeling the Jungle Juice a bit.”

“Are you sure we should…”

“I’m tipsy, not wasted… Come here.” I swipe my card and push the door open in one motion, pulling him into my dorm room by the hem of his shirt. Elijah follows as the door clicks shut behind us.

Within an instant, he is on me like a fly on honey, my back flush with the cold wall as his lips press against mine, the hoppy flavor of the beer on his tongue pushing me further into the abyss.

As he trails kisses down my neck, his tongue swirls and caresses the sensitive spot below my ear that always sends shivers down my spine. I feel lightheaded as he lifts me off the ground, effortlessly carrying my weight and pressing me against the wall. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as our bodies mold together, the heaving in my chest matched only by his own as we both struggle to find stability in a situation that offers anything but.

He shifts my weight off of the wall as he moves me toward my bed. I’ve never been more thankful that Jenna and I have separate bedrooms than I am right now, but then again, she said she wasn’t coming home, so it really shouldn’t matter.

The moment my back hits the soft cotton of my duvet, I look up at him. His intense gaze holds mine, sending shivers down my spine and setting my skin ablaze.

I want to know what he’s thinking. Is he aware of who I am? Does he know how important we’ll become to one another?

My mind is racing a mile a minute, but everything melts into bliss as soon as his lips are on mine again—this time with far more intent than before.

Elijah’s tongue darts past my lips, caressing my own tongue. He tastes of beer and bad decisions, but in this moment, I can only think about the sensations coursing through my body and the desire for him to continue exploring me with his touch. While I know that taking things slow would be the smarter approach to yield a different result for us, all I can think about right now is the way his mouth feels as he engulfs me, leaving me a quivering mess at his disposal.

“Kat,” he mumbles, my name a near-gasp as it leaves his lips.

“Hm?” I say, reaching toward him, my hand brushing against a hard bulge in his jeans.

He gasps and quickly tilts downward to look at me, his face flushed with desire. My own body responds to the unmistakable proof of his arousal as I trace my fingers along its shape.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He reaches down and wraps his fingers around my hand. Tightening his grasp, he squeezes himself using my hand before releasing me, the lewd action sending a jolt of arousal to my core.

Elijah pushes me backward onto the bed, his body pressing into mine as he pins my hands above my head in a loose grip. I could free them if I wanted to, but his fingers wrapped around my wrists builds far more anticipation than I would expect.

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