Page 78 of Faking It with the Forward

“Wait,” Reid says, looking at me with wide eyes, “does this mean you’re going to wear a dress?”

Every person at the table swings to look at me. Or it feels that way. “I wear dresses,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm. “Sometimes.”

Reid grins, eyes flicking over to Reese. “I can’t wait to see it.”

I feel Reese’s eyes on me before I look at him and when I do, the dark intensity in his eyes makes me sweat. I don’t know if Reese wants to see me in a dress or not, but I know that look. He definitely wants to get me naked. Under my hoodie, my nipples tighten, and I lick my bottom lip. When I dare a glance at him, he’s watching me, eyes dark and zeroed in on my mouth.

Heat spreads across the back of my neck.

“You know,” I say, cramming my last piece of bacon into my mouth, “I forgot I have an appointment with my advisor before class.”

“See ya, TG,” Reid says, barely glancing over from his conversation.

“Bye,” I say. I don’t breathe again until I’m outside and inhale the cool fall air.

My phone buzzes.

OneFive: Tutoring Office?

Followed by…

OneFive: Unless that appointment thing is real.

OneFive: Which I’m pretty sure it’s not…

InternTwy: On my way.

How he beats me to the student center, I’ll never know. A secret passageway only jocks know about? He enters the office and once I’m sure no one is watching, I follow him in.

The door is barely shut when he pushes me up against it and secures the lock.

“That was a fucking nightmare,” he says, fingers gripping the zipper of my hoodie and lowering it down. “Sitting that close to you and not being able to get my hands on you.” He licks my mouth. “I don’t like it.”

“Wait,” I press my hands to his chest, eyes wide, “if you weren’t touching me in there who was? Kirby?”

“I’d fucking kill him,” he growls, capturing my mouth with lips that taste like syrup. Nimbly, he pushes my hoodie off my shoulders and shoves his hands up my shirt. “Sometimes I hate these fucking hoodies, you know that? They cover everything.” His head dips down and he buries his face between my tits. “But then I’m glad no one gets to see these but me.”

His words are a sweet relief, knowing that my need for him matches his desire for me. This thing… it never feels one-sided. Not when I can feel the hard length of his erection drilling against my stomach.

My hips grind into him, seeking friction, and a big hand grabs my thigh, hiking my leg around his hip. I moan when his length hits me across my core. Reaching between us, he tugs my panties aside and glides the tip of his cock over my throbbing clit.

I cling to him, burying my face in his chest, wanting him to fuck me.

Suddenly he lifts me and turns me around, bending me over the study table. His fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts. He pauses, leaning over to ask, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I say, only wanting to feel him inside of me.

He lowers my shorts and panties and I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. His hand flattens over my lower back as his cock presses against my entrance. “Jesus, you’re so wet,” he says, followed by a low groan. His arm wraps around my waist and in one quick move, he punches into me at the same time he pulls me against him.

A gust of air leaves my lungs as the sensation of fullness spreads through me. I grip the edge of the table and fall into the spontaneity of this moment. How vulnerable I am, how utterly desperate he makes me feel, but also how safe. Ethan always made me question myself, picking at my insecurities until I could barely function. Reese draws me out, pushes me into new things, and over and over lets me know how much he’s into me. His confidence is infectious.

There’s no doubt how much he’s into me right now, not with the way he’s holding onto me. His hand slips between my legs and he rubs my clit, drawing me closer to the edge. I let go—of the worries, the complications of the two of us being together, of my past fears. I let go of it all, and let the orgasm shatter over me.

My body squeezes him, and his breathing turns short and erratic, hips flexing into my backside. He tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me closer until we’re almost standing—two bodies flesh to flesh—then releases a long, muffled groan against my shoulder and comes.

“Fuck, Twy.” He turns my head and presses a sloppy kiss to my mouth. He looks into my eyes. “How the hell does it keep getting better?”

I have no answer. Not when he pulls out and cleans us both up. Not when we kiss goodbye and sneak out of the room one by one, going our separate ways across campus like it never happened.

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