Page 92 of Iced Out

God, I’m so fucked for this guy.

My brow lifts some more as I wait for his answer. Which comes as he circles around me, both hands brushing my shoulders and his breath hot on the side of my neck as he speaks into my ear.

“I asked Cam.”

I turn to face him, my mouth only inches from his. “Seriously? And that isn’t going to be a dead giveaway to something being up with us?”

After all the crap that went down last week, the last thing I need are my roommates asking even more questions.

“He’s none the wiser, I’m sure of it,” he practically purrs. “I told him I had a book for you.Leadership for Dummies.He laughed and said you’ve been here all day. And since I know you have an essay due tomorrow, I figured you’d go where it’s the quietest. With the least people around to…distract you.”

Part of me wants to laugh at how clever, and insanely ridiculous, his excuse is, but my body is too keyed up from his proximity.

Thankfully, he leans away, giving me some much-needed distance as he pulls out the chair beside me at the table. Too bad it’s not nearly enough, because my attention is still hyper fixated on his body only a foot away.

How in the ever-loving fuck this guy gets me worked up with his presence alone is so far outside my IQ range, it’s laughable. Then again, it could also be the warm palm landing on my thigh beneath the table, just above my knee.

“And now you’re here to fuck it all up, aren’t you?” I murmur, gaze locking on his. When he nods, I can’t help the soft scoff falling free from my lips. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because whether or not you want to admit it,” he whispers, fingers inching closer and closer to my dick. “I’m your favorite kind of distraction.”

He’s right, he’s become my favorite distraction. And he’s also correct in assuming there’s no way in hell I’d ever own up to it.

Too bad he must read it all over my face, because the sinful grin on his lips only grows—like my fucking dick. Another thing he doesn’t fail to notice, if the way his finger grazes against it, teasing along the head, is any indication.

“And honestly?” he murmurs, arching a brow. “You look like you could use a little bit of a…stress break.”

My eyes leave him, checking around the dimly lit fifth floor. There’s a handful of people in study cubes or strewn about at tables across the open areas…and the closest person is still a good thirty feet away.

Taking my silence as a go ahead, Quinn strokes me over my own pair of sweats. My hand darts beneath the table on instinct, gripping his wrist tight enough to hurt.

“Not here,” I hiss, releasing my hold on him. “Last aisle on the left. Go all the way to the back. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He smirks, pulling his hand back and rising from the table. “Don’t keep me waiting, or I’ll have to start without you.”

I watch as he disappears from sight in the stacks, all the while willing my dick under control so I can go find him without waving a flag at anyone I might pass by on the way there. But when ninety seconds pass and I’m still harder than stone, impatience wins out.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, tucking the damn thing in my waistband and pushing out of my seat.

Leaving my books and bag on the table, I follow in the direction I sent Quinn to wait for me. An empty table with a bunch of belongings on it might cause suspicion if left alone long enough, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take.

The only thing I care about is getting my hands on the sexiest, most infuriating teammate I’ve ever had.

Except…the last aisle is empty when I get there.

I head through the stacks, all the way to the back, about to be really fucking pissed if he left me hard up in the library, of all places. Out of nowhere, an arm reaches out and grabs me by my hoodie, hauling me into a hard, masculine body.

“Took you long enough,” he growls, pressing me into one of the wooden shelves before crashing his mouth to mine.

Tongues fight for dominance as hands frantically search for bare skin. The ends of his fingers dig into my hips while mine anchor into his hair, and we devour each other until we’re both a panting mess, ripping at clothing like two wild animals.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this. Of the battle we have between us before he eventually caves, becoming putty in my hands.

Twenty-four hours are all the time that’s passed since I’ve been inside him last, but I’m still starving for him. I didn’t realize how much until now.

My fingers leave his hair and dig into the hard muscles of his shoulder, shoving him to his knees at the same time he pushes my sweats to the floor. It’s agonizing how the seconds ticking by feel like years before he’s finally pushing my underwear down to pull me free. But it’s worth it the moment he flicks his wicked tongue across my slit, lapping at the precum like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

My eyes close in rapture, head falling back against the shelf behind me, and I silently thank my lucky stars there’s no real books on them to topple over with what’s about to happen.

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