Page 93 of Spring Tide

I rub the side of his bicep, squeezing once for reassurance. “You’re right, that’s a lot to juggle.”

“So when I think about my type, I think about someone that I can be myself around. Completely.” He swallows thickly. There’s an uncomfortable tension in his gaze now, as if he’s plagued by his own vulnerability. “Someone who doesn’t expect me to think or act or behave a certain way ... because they’re content with the person that I already am.”

“You want to feel the way you do when you’re alone but with somebody else?”

“Exactly.” He gives me a grateful smile, relaxing into the comfort of my understanding.

I blurt, “So, am I your type?”

Apprehension swirls in my belly while he thinks over a response. I self-consciously duck my head, fighting a shy smile as he tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear.

“I’ll admit, when I’m around you, I do get nervous,” he confesses. “You make me want to be the best version of myself. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t also feel so fucking content when we’re together. I love being around you, Harper.”

He pulls me closer, a bubble of happiness expanding in my chest. “I love being around you, too.”

“Good, then.”

“Man,” I say with a laugh. “I was expecting you to say something like ... hot blondes in bikinis.”

He gives me a nonplussed look. “Were you really?”

“No, I guess not.” I laugh again, nudging his nose. “Usually, though, I’d expect someone to give me a list of physical traits.”

“I can do that, too.”

“Oh yeah? Then go for it.”

“Hair—” He toys with a loose strand, pulling at a tiny curl that frames my face. “—this pretty golden brown. Skin—” He runs his fingers across my cheeks and down over the column of my throat. “—soft, sweet, and full of freckles. Body—” He shifts on top of me, caging me against the bed. “—un-fucking-believable.”

Warmth spreads across my chest. “Hm, how can we find you someone like that?”

“I’m pretty sure I had my head between her legs, oh, about four hours ago.”

I tap a finger on his lips, blinking back shock at his dirty words. “Wow, it sounds like it’s time for her to return the favor.”

“Wasn’t a favor.”

I drag him in for a kiss, laughter spilling onto his lips. My free hand dips below his waistband. As soon as I feel him nod against me, I reach into his boxers and grip his erection, stroking him with a firm hand. He groans, low and deep from the back of his throat, his head dropping into the crook of my neck.

He holds himself over the top of me, careful to place pressure on his right knee with his elbows perched on either side of my body. I glance between us, watching, captivated by the sight of his stomach muscles tensing and rippling with each gentle tug.

“Oh ...shit,” he mumbles against my neck.

“We have at least twenty minutes before we have to head back to campus.” I gently scratch the back of his neck, running my fingers through his hair. “Plenty of time for another quick round.”

“I don’t know, what if we jinx it?” He pauses, his cock twitching against my other palm. “Fuck,” he groans again, “that last time really was my favorite.”

“You’ve said that every time.”

He kisses my neck, sucking at my collarbone. “Because it just keeps getting better.”

Okay, so we may have given each other several more orgasms throughout the night. It was tough to fall asleep after that initial adrenaline rush. I’m not, like ... a sex fiend or anything, but I wanted to try out a few more adapted positions after our first time. Surprisingly, there are a number of ways to intertwine our bodies without adding pressure to Luca’s injury.

Despite what he deludes himself into telling me, I know that he’s still healing. And I’m not going to contribute to his pain in the name of our mutual pleasure.

“Exactly my point,” I say.

Lifting my hips, I grind against him, desire and heat pooling low in my core. We work together to shimmy his boxers halfway down his thighs, but my breath catches in my throat as the front door slams shut.

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