Page 34 of Under Pressure

A quiet moan escapes her lips, such need in it that I take it as an assent, swallowing the end of the sound as I kiss her once more, greedy this time. She clutches at my shirt, brushing her front against mine, practically rubbing all over me. Fuck, that feels good.

I deepen it, starving for her, her sweetness calming me just as much as it incites. How does she do this to me? Is it the thrill of the chase? Because she’s not the kind of girl I ever thought I’d be interested in?

That doesn’t mean she lacks a sexual side, though. Her tongue tangles with mine and I do what I wanted to that night at the club, hitching her leg up over my hip and grind into her.

“Yes,” she breathes, easily picking up my rhythm, matching me thrust for thrust.

This is… madness. I’m dry humping her against the door of the Stress Lab, but I can’t seem to stop.

She makes these tiny gasps every time my chest brushes against hers and I finally clue in to what’s causing it. I bring my hands up, molding them over her breasts and her head falls back against the door with an audible thud, a guttural sound of pleasure leaving her mouth.

“You like that?” I whisper in her ear, increasing the pressure.

Her whole body shudders. “Can you say that again?”

“You like that?”

“No, in my ear,” she says, her eyes still closed in bliss.

I whisper it again directly in her ear and she groans, her hands latching on to my shoulders to keep me close.

“What do you like so much about that?”

“I love your voice,” she says dreamily.

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve fantasized about it.”

My jaw drops and I’m temporarily distracted from touching her at all.

“Fantasized?”

Her eyes open slowly, the bliss morphing into alarm. “Um, I mean—”

She slides out from between me and the door and I watch her in amusement, her cheeks steadily turning redder.

“Just forget it.” She grabs her backpack and the container of cookies.

Yeah, right. Like I’m letting her leave without explaining herselfandtaking the cookies.

I set myself up in front of the door, widening my stance, and cross my arms like I’m a bouncer.

She huffs, “Seriously?”

“Spill your secrets, Clemons.”

“What if I promise you a whole batch of fresh-baked desserts every week instead?” She opens the lid of the container, holding it under my nose for me to inhale. “I haven’t made you my famous dark chocolate pie yet. Or my lemon blueberry cheesecake bars.”

My mouth actually waters at her offer. Everything she’s brought in so far has been insanely delicious.

But I shake my head. “You’re already making me fat.”

She sighs, sliding her backpack off her shoulder to plop on the ground and grabs a cookie, settling into her desk chair. “You remember when Kelsey came up to us at the library?”

I nod.

She rolls her eyes, focusing on a spot about two feet to the left of me. “Obviously, she was talking about you. And part of what I liked about you in class was… your voice.” She’s barely audible by the end, nibbling at the cookie, studiously avoiding my gaze.

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