Page 167 of Caelum

The girls’ shower room in the gym didn’t have any stalls, and the first time I’d used it, I’d been so mortified I’d covered myself in a towel throughout the shower, which hadn’t exactly helped me get clean. Now, I just returned to my own room, but the way they’d all strolled around had told me they were well at ease with their bodies, whereas I’d been taught the opposite—to be ashamed of mine and the lust it could and would inspire in men.

If that wasn’t a big enough deal, I knew the guys were used to sleeping with those girls from the shower room. The student body here wasn’t like me. I was all curves, all softness, ripe and round. They were hard and firm, muscled and strong. I didn’t envy them, but I thought they were beautiful, and I had to wonder if my softness was dumpy to Nestor.

“Are you stuck in there?”

The question had my cheeks flushing, and I finally threw the shirt overhead. I had definitely been hiding in the act of taking the top off, but I slapped him on the side where I knew he had no injuries. “Don’t be mean.”

He laughed, and because it was such a happy sound, I found myself laughing back.

“I didn’t expect this,” I whispered, my tone growing serious as I stared down at him.

“I certainly didn’t expect this,” he retorted, his eyes darkening as he looked at me. I watched his tongue pop out, and when he licked his lips, nostrils flaring as he studied me, I knew, without him even having to say a word, that he liked what he saw.

Relief sank into my bones, and I relaxed until he asked, “Can I touch them?”

I wanted him to, but my lungs still burned as breathing became impossible for a handful of seconds.

“Yes,” I whispered, after a good thirty seconds of my cheeks flaming. I was really grateful for the darkness, and even though his sight was undoubtedly strong in the night, just as mine was on certain soul-dependent days, the shadows still offered some protection.

Both of his hands came up and cupped my breasts. The second his skin touched mine, I shuddered, utterly enthralled with the sensation. I wasn’t sure whether to buck my hips, to freeze, or if I should just quiver inwardly until the sensations died out.

It was like being tickled, yet also, being scratched. It felt good, yet bad too. The contrasts were infinite and pleasing nonetheless.

The calluses on his fingers, his palms, rubbed against my tender skin, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand on edge. My head dropped down to stare at his olive skin against my pale, alabaster flesh. His hands led to forearms which led to biceps that were strong, while I seemed to be the exact opposite. For a second, it was a reminder of how weak I was, how frail and vulnerable, how badly I needed his and the others’ protection, but then, I remembered something.

I was on top of him.

Because he wanted me to be there.

He wanted to protect me.

Yes, I was frail and vulnerable in many ways, but hadn’t I attacked Samuel when he’d tried to hurt me? When that idiot had tripped me and tried to humiliate me, hadn’t I punished him?

I had strength too, but it came in different ways, and wasn’t that how a man and woman worked?

We weren’t supposed to be the same. We were meant to be different.

Before I could let the revelation filter through me, Nestor arched up so he was sitting. He made no move to push me off him though. Instead, I watched as pain had his features tightening for a second, and then his mouth was on my breast and his lips were around the soft peak of my nipple.

My belly pulsed with need, and I could feel the area between my legs grow slick in reaction to what he was making me feel.

It was confusing but enlightening too.

With a grunt, I began rocking my hips to try and alleviate that peculiar pain I felt in my core. Except moving made it feel worse. It was like I was running toward a piece of chocolate cake, but no matter how near it was to me, it seemed to be farther away. Like someone was pushing it ahead of me so I’d never reach it.

Nestor’s hands came up to cup my waist, but he didn’t stop me from rocking against him. If anything, one of his hands moved between my thighs.

At that first touch, I froze, then when he rubbed me through my sleep shorts, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. I neededto connect with him, needed him to know what he was making me feel, that I was loving it even if I didn’t understand it.

How could that feel so good?

Just his fingers against the seam of my shorts?

It was so confusing, so bewildering, and yet so intoxicating too.

I aided his touch by rubbing harder into him, and as I did, he began nibbling at my nipples, biting and kissing them, before he moved up and began sucking on my throat like Stefan had, making me tense in response.

Stefan had touched me like this, but it was so different when I was half-naked, and Nestor was too—he only wore a pair of briefs to bed. Something he did for me because I’d overheard Stefan warning him to cover up when I was around.

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