Page 15 of Drown in You

I clear my throat and give a single nod. “Yes. As long as you wear a condom, I’m not looking for anything beyond getting dicked down for a night.”

His brows lift, a few shades darker than his hair, and he lets out a surprised laugh. The kind of easy laugh that tells me he used to laugh a lot once. Before whatever it is that happened to him happened.

Even though he’s a complete stranger—I literally don’t even know his name—and I don’t know the root of his pain, my heart aches for him. Juliet likes to call that my fatal flaw. I feel bad for other people too much, feel their pain as if it’s my own. It gets me into trouble.

“I don’t have a condom.” The realization dawns on him as the words leave his mouth. Despair melts him adorably.

“I do.” I duck around him and grab the giant box of condoms from my suitcase. I wanted to make sure I had a healthy supply while I’m attending Diamond University. I plan on fucking all my troubles away.

This major life change still doesn’t feel real. A new home, a new university, a new family. Although family is a stretch. I barely know my father, let alone his new wife and stepson. Who knows if they’ll even want anything to do with me.

Living in Wakefield was hell, but being here probably won’t be much better. Thank god Juliet kept her word and transferred with me. Her parents are wealthy enough to buy her speedy enrollment into Diamond University. At least having my best friend around will prevent me from plummeting into the pits of misery.

She’ll be so proud when I tell her I skipped my father’s wedding reception to fuck a stranger in my hotel room.

I didn’t intend to miss the wedding, no matter how anxious I was to attend. But my shitty car wouldn’t start, which meant I couldn’t leave until Juliet’s dad brought me a new battery. By the time I got to Diamond, the wedding was already over.

And now I’d rather have sex with a complete stranger than face my father and his new family.

The man whose dick I’m about to ride steps closer, nodding at the box of condoms in my hands. “How many guys are you planning on bringing up here tonight?”

“At least a hundred.”

He snorts and damn it, guys who get my sense of humor are my weakness. So are giant men in suits. This guy is checking all my boxes.

I shake the package of condoms. “More people come out of college with STDs than bachelor’s degrees, so I wanted to be prepared. I’m on birth control too.”

The side of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “When you prepare, you really commit. Do you go to Diamond?”

“Let’s not do the whole thing where we pretend we want to get to know each other before you’re inside me.” I crack open the box of condoms and toss one onto the bed. “Please don’t ask me my major or any of that crap. That’s not the kind of pillow talk I’m looking for.”

Silently, he saunters toward me with his hands in his pockets, and I already want to combust. What is it about men in suits that makes women go feral? If he was wearing a mask, I’d come in about ten seconds.

When he reaches me, he brushes back a strand of hair, sending goosebumps down to my toes. “What kind of pillow talk are you looking for?”

Holy fuck. Maybe I’m actually going to get lucky with this one and not have a night of mediocre, forgettable sex. “You know, the usual, vanilla stuff. Good girl, eyes on me, beg me, crawl to me, you can take it, I decide when you breathe.”

He malfunctions for a second. I’m a book girl, so of course, everyone assumes I’m as innocent as I look. He should listen to my audiobooks. His brain would melt.

When he recovers, he closes the distance between us, hooking a finger under my chin. His gray eyes are hooded with lust, and I could stare into them all day if not for the overwhelming desire to see the rest of him without clothes on. “In that case,” he murmurs, “be a good girl and take off my belt.”

My thighs clench. Oh shit. What have I unleashed?

I bat my lashes at him and smile sweetly, unfastening the buckle with embarrassingly clumsy hands. A man has never made me this flustered in my life. Normally, I’m the one taking charge and giving instructions in the bedroom. Half the time, I feel like a teacher instructing an inept student on where to find the clitoris, proper tongue techniques, and what the female orgasm actually looks and sounds and feels like, and no, it’s not impossible to tell. Certainly not impossible to tell when I come. The few miraculous times it happens with another person, I make a show of it.

Partially because it really does feel that good and partially to reward them for their efforts. The people pleaser in me never sleeps, even during the throes of ecstasy.

But this man doesn’t seem like he’ll need instruction. In fact, I hope he gives me more orders. I need a gorgeous man to boss me around in bed like I need air.

Finally, I manage to pull his belt from the final loop and drop it to the floor.

“Now the jacket.”

My heart thumps harder, and I contemplate the physics of taking the jacket off a man well over six feet tall.

“What kind of pillow talk do you like?” I purr, craning up on my toes to slide his jacket off his shoulders.

“You know, the usual, vanilla stuff. Harder, make me come, let me swallow, that’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, I’m coming. That kind of thing.”

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