“I’ll walk you out.” My voice is small and apologetic. He doesn’t react to my words right away, but he eventually presses his lips into a thin line and nods.
“Yeah,” he says, flustered. “Yeah. Walk me out.”
I slip on the shoes I had laid out to wear to dinner tonight. Neither of us says anything as we reluctantly head to the door. He opens it and walks out first, so I follow behind him. I watch him as he makes his way down the hall in front of me. His hand has a tight grip on the back of his neck, and I hate that he’s upset. I hate that I’m upset. I hate that we fell asleep and completely wasted our entire last two hours together.
We’re almost to the living room when he stops and spins around. Once again, he looks like he’s about to be sick. I stand still and wait for whatever it is he’s about to say.
“It may not be book-worthy, but it’ll have to do.” He takes two quick steps toward me until his hands are in my hair and his mouth is on mine. I gasp in surprise and grab his shoulders, but I immediately fall into step with him and slide my hands to his neck.
He backs me against the wall and his hands and chest and lips are pressed hungrily against mine. He’s gripping my face like he’s afraid to let go and I’m fighting for breath because it’s been so long since I’ve kissed anyone, I think I may have forgotten how to do it right. He pulls away long enough for me to inhale and then he’s back and . . . hands and . . . legs and . . . tongue.
Oh, my God, his tongue.
It’s been over two years since someone else’s tongue has been inside my mouth, so I would assume I’d be a little more hesitant than I am. But the second he slides it against my lips, I immediately part them and welcome the warmth of a much deeper kiss. Soft. Mesmerizing. His mouth, coupled with the way his hand is sliding down my arm, is all too much. So much. Good much. So good. I just whimpered.
As soon as the sound leaves my mouth, he’s pressing me harder against the wall. His left hand is caressing my cheek and his right hand is gripping me by the waist, pulling me against him.
I’m finished packing. He doesn’t have to leave right this minute.
Does he?
He really doesn’t. Sex releases endorphins and endorphins keep people awake, so having sex with Ben might actually benefit me before my flight. I haven’t had sex in all my eighteen years put together, so imagine how many endorphins I have built up in here. We could have sex before my flight and I wouldn’t need sleep for days. Imagine how productive I would be when I get to New York.
Oh, my God, I’m pulling him back to my room. If he comes back to my room with me, I won’t be able to tell him no. Am I really willing to have sex with someone I’ll never see again?
I’m crazy. I can’t have sex with him. I don’t even own a condom.
Now I’m pushing him back down the hall, away from my bedroom.
Jesus, he must think I’m crazy.
He shoves me against the wall again and acts like the last ten seconds of indecisiveness never even happened.
I’m dizzy. I’m so dizzy, it feels so good, my mother is crazy. Stupid, insane, absurd, and she’s wrong. Why would a girl care to find herself when she’ll never be able to make herself feel as good as a guy can? Okay, now I’m just being stupid. But Ben is making me feel really good things right now.
He groans and then I freaking lose it. My hands are in his hair and his mouth is all over my neck.
Grab my boob, Ben.
He totally reads my mind and grabs my boob.
Grab the other one.
God, he’s so telepathic.
His lips move from my neck back to my mouth, but his hands are still on my breasts. I’m pretty sure mine are cupping his ass, pulling him even harder against me, but I’m too embarrassed at my behavior right now to acknowledge that.
“I would say get a room, but I thought that’s what the two of you have been doing in there for the past two hours.”
Amber.
What a bitch. I’m beating her up as soon as Ben leaves.
I can’t believe I just had those thoughts. She’s my best friend.
Endorphins are bad. They’re evil and bad and make me think ridiculous thoughts.
Ben pulls his mouth from mine at the sound of her voice. His forehead presses against the side of my head and his hands leave their naturally assumed positions to meet the wall behind me.
I exhale a really, really, really pent-up breath.
“For real though,” Amber says. “Glenn and I can see everything going on in this hallway. I thought I’d intervene before you got pregnant.”