Panting, she rides out every last wave until we’re both too spent to move.
“Wow.” She drapes herself over me, her heart thudding against my chest.
My arms wrap around her and pull her closer. “I’m ruined, Tink. Fucking ruined.”
A better person probably would harbor some degree of guilt for crossing a line. All I feel is a deep sense of primal satisfaction for having claimed her. All I want is to do it again.
Once we both come back to our senses, we reluctantly untangle ourselves and get re-dressed. Seraphina looks down and slips on her panties, pulling them up beneath her skirt while I kneel to pick up the items that fell out of her purse when it fell: a tube of lip gloss, a couple pens, a pink highlighter, her keychain, my black Falcons beanie, and her phone—luckily unscathed.
As I shove the items back into her bag, I catch sight of her black hair ribbon sitting underneath a chair, and I grab it. At least we won’t be leaving behind any evidence… other than the used condom in the garbage.
Passing Seraphina her purse, I lower my lips to hers for another brief kiss. And another. Being around other people without doing this is going to suck. Then again, I’m not sure what the hell “this” is.
I hold up her coat and help her slip into it. When she turns back to face me, my first instinct is to kiss her again. It’s hard not to. With something else swirling in the back of my mind, I have to broach that first.
“What are we doing, Tink?” Maybe it’s unfair of me to put her on the spot like this, but it’s a legitimate question when I have no idea myself.
Her forehead crinkles, and she pauses. “Why do we have to call it anything? Can’t we just have some fun and enjoy things for what they are? We can be friends who kiss… and do a little more than that sometimes. Which is nobody else’s business, for the record.”
“Yeah?” Relief winds through me. Lately, she’s the calm in the shitstorm otherwise known as my life. We have a good thing going, and I don’t want to ruin it.
“Yeah.” Pale pink fingernails trail down my chest, her soft lips finding my jaw.
I groan as my cock stiffens. “Easy, unless you’re angling for round two.”
Seraphina giggles. “Already?”
“I’m a twenty-one-year-old athlete, Ser, and you’re fucking gorgeous.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out to check the message, I notice the time. We’ve been in here longer than we should have been. It’s a miracle we didn’t get caught.
“We should get out of here before we land ourselves in trouble,” I add.
The moment we step outside, Seraphina opens her leather purse and fishes out my beanie, tugging it over her rose-gold waves. Instantly, I feel myself break into one of those dumbass grins only she can elicit.
“I hope you know I’m keeping this,” she says, smoothing her hair.
“I was hoping you would.”
One unintended benefit of ending my celibacy streak? I slept better than I have in months. Years, even. It was hard to drag myself out of bed.
A savory, smoky scent wafts through the air as I ascend the stairs, and my stomach growls in response. Through the doorway, I spot Dallas tending to a pan on the stove. Score. The only thing better than bacon is bacon you didn’t have to cook yourself, especially at seven in the morning.
“What are you doing up so early?” I step into the kitchen, craning my neck to gauge the status of the food.
“I have a dentist appointment downtown,” Dallas says. “Bacon should be ready in five.”
I grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it at the coffee maker as Seraphina darts into the room. Dallas’s back is turned, so I leverage the opportunity to let my gaze linger on her longer than I should, taking in her black cropped hoodie, skintight black workout leggings, and hot pink Nikes.
Knowing what she looks like beneath those clothes is a special kind of torture. Can’t afford to let my brain take a stroll down that particular memory lane while I’m wearing these sweats, though, or it’s gonna get real awkward between me and Dallas, real fast.
“Morning, Tink.”
“Hey.” She doesn’t glance in my direction, kneeling to rummage through the cupboard. The most likely explanation is that she’s distracted because she’s running late as usual. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it than that.
Fuck. I’m overthinking again. Hard not to, given the situation. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Seraphina riding my cock in that little skirt with her head tipped back, her face contorted with pleasure. Are we good after last night?
Questions continue to play through my head while I reach into the fridge to grab the carton of milk. Thinking better of it, I put it back and close the door with my hip. Fuck cereal, I’m going to mooch some of Dallas’s bacon.
Leaning against the counter, I steal a glance at Seraphina again. She pushes to stand with a frown, clutching an oversized pink travel tumbler like it’s her lifeline, and makes a beeline for the coffee maker to fill it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but she seems more preoccupied than upset.
“Is this fresh coffee?” She brings it to her mouth and takes a sip, her brow creasing at the taste.
“Yeah,” Dallas offers over his shoulder. “I tossed the other batch. Tasted like ass.”
I bark a laugh because that’s such a Dallas thing to do. He’s particular about nearly everything, coffee included. Hell, he’s almost more high maintenance than Seraphina, and that’s saying something.
She’s less amused with this turn of events. In fact, she looks positively crestfallen—like a little kid whose ice cream fell on the pavement on a hot summer’s day. Then I realize why.
Decaf.
Guilt overtakes me and I bring a fist to my mouth, trying to pretend I was coughing. I hadn’t expected her to take the loss of her coffee quite that hard, and I don’t find her being sad funny. In fact, I fucking hate it.
Her warm brown eyes flicker over to the clock on the wall, then back to the coffee maker, but she says nothing. Just heaves a quiet, disappointed sigh as she pours the contents of the mug into the sink. Judging by her outfit and the time, I’m fairly certain she’s due to be at her usual seven a.m. workout class in five minutes—and the fitness studio is fifteen minutes away.
“Uh, Ward?” I say delicately. “That was Seraphina’s decaf, just FYI.”
“Her what?” Dallas sets down the tongs, turning to face us. His eyes widen as he processes what I’d just said, and he winces. “Oh shit. Sorry, Sera. I can make you some more if you want. It just didn’t taste like it usually does so I thought someone fucked it up. And by someone, I mean Tyler.”
“To be clear, I make great coffee. It’s just too strong for your wimpy ass.”
“Thanks, but it’s okay.” She quickly rinses out the mug and dumps it in the sink. “I have to get going. I can hit the drive-through on my way to campus after the gym…” The waver in her voice tells me it’s anything but okay.
Tossing us a wave and a mumbled good-bye, she brushes past us on her way out of the kitchen, resolutely avoiding eye contact. My chest pulls tight as I watch her leave. Conflict wars within me, a bloody battle between my conscience and my mind. The urge to go after her is strong but I can’t tell whether she wants to talk—and I don’t want to make things worse if she doesn’t. More specifically, I don’t want to make it worse if I’m one of the things that’s upsetting her.