Page 33 of A Scandal in Homeroom
My eyes narrowed. “You like that, don’t you? Being under the radar when you want to be. Odd for someone who likes to perform in front of large crowds.”
“Did you ask me to meet you here so you could psycho-analyze me?”
“No. I asked you to meet me so I could kiss you. I didn’t think it would have been appropriate for me to do that in Chemistry class. No pun intended.”
I watched her expression change. Almost like a feral creature. Her breathing had shallowed out.
I stepped toward her. “Do you want me to kiss you, Irene?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Where is the sexual aggressor who demanded we go on a date?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
“You’re a sham, aren’t you?” I said, moving even closer. “You’re just as nervous about this as I am.”
“You’re nervous?”
“I’m terrified,” I confessed.
“Why?”
Because you scare me. You threaten my equilibrium. You’ve convinced everyone you’re someone you’re not. Even me. And I never, ever fall for tricks. Which means you could be better at this game than I am.
I didn’t say any of those things to her. Instead, I reached for her hand and tugged her to me. She didn’t resist. Instead, she put her hands on my shoulders, I put my hands on her waist.
“I can be brave enough,” I told her. “For both of us. You just have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” she whispered.
I didn’t have an answer for that, so I kissed her. This wasn’t the first time I’d kissed a girl, but it was the first time it mattered. I felt different inside. Not just aroused or lustful, but excited and confused and uncertain and exhilarated.
I brushed my lips against hers, once, twice, three times. Not asking for anything, not taking anything, just waiting until she was there with me. I felt her fingers curl into my shirt at my shoulders. Felt a little bite from her nails. I brought my hand to the small of her back and brought her closer, even as I tilted my head to get a better angle. I ran my tongue along the seam of her lips and her mouth opened on a sigh.
Then it was exactly like I’d expected it to be. An explosion of feeling and sensation. She was clinging to me even as I devoured her. I hoped to God I wasn’t being awkward or sloppy. I hoped to God I was conveying only what I felt.
I wanted more, I wanted so much more from her. I was kissing the hottest, sexiest girl in school. and yet that had become the absolute last thing that mattered about her.
I was kissing Irene. Who was a little afraid, like me. A little uncertain, like me. Who, in this moment, was trusting me whether she realized it or not.
Pulling her closer, I used my hand at the small of her back to press her against my body. So I could feel her against me. I had enough thinking brain cells to appreciate how primitive it all was. The drive to mate. To feel her against me fully. To press into her. I told her with my tongue what I wanted to do with my cock, and she answered me by thrusting her hips against me…
Then suddenly she was pulling away. Standing nearly a foot away from me, panting.
“Irene,” I said lamely, not able to form coherent thoughts.
“I’m not having sex with you,” she announced. “Just because of last night and now…I’m not doing that.”
Think Holmes! Use your freaking brain and say something that will make her understand.
“I didn’t ask you here…for that. You said to be brave. I only wanted to be brave.”
“You’re…you know. You’re…hard.”
She said it like it was an accusation. “Irene, that can happen passing you in the hall. What did you think my reaction was going to be when I had my tongue in your mouth?”
“I’m not a slut,” she said, picking up the school bag and throwing it over her shoulder.
