Brody shifts in the bed as if feeling my stare. My eyes flick to his face. His are open, watching me silently. The pale moonlight darkens their rich brown color to obsidian, so dark and hungry I shiver.

My pulse thumps in time with the heat building quickly between us. It sets off an ache between my thighs that screams for relief. I can’t speak. My hand moves to his chest instead. I trace lazy circles over the inked skin with my finger. He sucks in a breath. It holds in his lungs when my palm slides down to his lower abdomen, trailing over warm skin and rippled muscle. His body trembles from the featherlike touch.

I swallow, hesitating, my fingers frozen above the band of his shorts. We’ve been on a knife’s edge for weeks, the effort of restraint leaving me dizzy. With only two days until midterms, we can’t afford this distraction.

“Jordan.”

Dragging my eyes from the path of my hand, I glance up, searching his face.

Brody’s lips are parted, lids lowered as he watches me touch him. He lifts his head off the pillow, eyes bursting with heat and impatience.

“Please,” he rasps, his voice like sandpaper across my skin.

The solitary word breaks the last of my restraint. I slip a hand beneath the band of Brody’s shorts. Muscles tense when my palm covers him. His cock is already hard, like silken steel beneath the straining cotton of his boxer briefs.

A strangled groan escapes his throat and the sound sets me on fire. My grip on him tightens.

Brody turns on his side, forcing my hand to slip free from inside his shorts. He scoops me up, sweeping me beneath him with little effort. My head hits the pillow, air rushing from my lungs with a gasp.

“Let me have you.”

He holds the upper half of his body above me, biceps straining as he looks down at me, eyes searching for an answer. His lower half presses me into the bed, making me hyperaware of the thin barrier between his pulsing erection and the throbbing of my clit.

“Have me.” My hips push up against him. An affirmation. “I’m not stopping you.”

I can’t.

Brody hesitates for a brief moment. He’s biding his time for my words to sink in. When they do, he scoots off me and tugs me into a seated position. His gaze shoots down, and I follow it. The hem of my tank top is scrunched in his fingers. His eyes find mine from beneath his lashes. Can I? he asks me silently.

Please. Yes.

Brody inches the cotton upwards, slowly baring skin to the cool night air. I raise my arms, my heart pounding. At my invitation he slides it up and over my head. With a swivel, he tosses it to the floor. Turning back, his eyes drop to my chest and he exhales shakily. The heat of his stare hardens my nipples beneath the thin cotton of my bra.

The clasp rests between my breasts. Brody holds his breath when I reach up and flick it open. I slide the straps off my shoulders with both hands and let it drop to the bed behind me. The move is bold, but I feel anything but. I’m not sweet and curvaceous. My body is boyish. Firm and athletic, it’s honed for sport, not pleasure.

Brody lets out a deep puff of air. Oblivious to my insecurities, his hands bracket my hips, gliding up my ribs until he reaches my breasts. His fingers are whisper light, his caress reverent as if I’m going to break. After long, agonizing moments, his thumbs scrape along the small undersides. Back and forth he goes, a slow steady rhythm designed to drive me mad.

Each breath comes harder when his hands move inwards. My back arches instinctively, thrusting sensitized nipples into his big palms. Brody’s fingers graze the taut peaks and a breathless moan escapes me.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, pinching them gently.

It shoots hot sparks straight between my legs. My eyes fly open. He’s watching my nipples glide through his fingers. Ducking his head, Brody takes one in his mouth. He rolls it over his tongue, flicking gently. My head falls back, a sharp cry leaving my throat when he sucks it deep and hard. It hurts so good I can’t stand it. My body sways and I grasp his shoulders to steady me.

Brody unlatches my nipple with a final flick of his tongue. It’s only a minor reprieve because he moves to the other, giving it the same torturous attention.

My hands slide into his soft strands of hair, mussing it. I tug gently, urging him upwards. I want his mouth. Brody complies. Lifting his head, he cups my face in his palms and covers my lips with his. The glide of his tongue is hot and wet. It rubs with mine, moving harder and more insistent. He groans into my mouth, harsh and urgent. I feel its vibration when my breasts press flush against his chest.

The kiss becomes incredibly endless. Brody pulls back when I shove at his shoulders, desperate for air. My first breath is a gasp. So is his, ragged and audible in the quiet. I don’t know what time it is but the world outside is asleep. There’s only us.

“On your back, Jordan.”

Pillows are shoved aside and I’m pushed down. Brody leans over me, dragging his bottom lip inside his mouth with his teeth. The waistband of my pretty pink sleep shorts are seized and wrenched down. I hear them hit the floor. His hands return for my panties.

My heart climbs to my throat when Brody hooks them in his fingers. Pausing, he looks at me, lust in his eyes. They watch me as he tugs at them, his pace slowing. They ease down my legs, over my feet and off, discarded to the floor to join my shorts. Calloused palms circle my calves. Skating upwards, they edge apart my thighs. Brody relinquishes his hold on my eyes and drops them.

“Oh fuck … Jordan.” His chest expands with air. “I want my mouth on you so fucking bad.”

I’m exposed to his scrutiny and I don’t care. I need relief. “Please.”

“So hot.” His voice is low and rough. Pushing his way between my legs, Brody sinks down. With unbearable slowness, he trails his tongue down my thigh. My hips jerk. Long, wet kisses travel my legs, and I want to scream my frustration.

Finally he finds his way between my thighs. The rough pads of his fingertips dig into my hips, holding me where he wants me. His breath is harsh and erratic. It puffs against the wet heat of me, making me squirm.

“Brody!” His name tears from my lips when his tongue comes out and licks me in one long stroke. My body heats up, deepening to a fever when his mouth finds my clit and latches on. My fingers rake his skin, clutching for purchase. “Oh god.”

Brody’s hands tremble on my hips, but he doesn’t let go. Wet sucking sounds fill the air. My eyes squeeze closed and I whimper. Pleasure untethers my hold on the world. It drops out beneath me, leaving me scrambling for solid ground. I don’t find it. With every hot stroke of his tongue, my grip loosens and when his finger thrusts up and inside me, I plummet into a free fall, coming hard. White lights burst bright and hot behind my eyes.

“Jordan,” he growls, lapping at me one last time. “Fuck.”

My eyes slide open when Brody draws back and off the bed, staggering to his feet as if drunk. He holds a hand to his head, wincing. I sit up and scoot to the edge, ignoring the throb still pulsing between my legs. “Brody, are you—”

“I’m fine.” He cuts me off as he scrambles on the floor, reaching for his overnight bag. I’m positive Brody’s going for the bottle of Percocet when instead he plucks out a square, foil packet.

My breath hitches audibly at the thought of him inside me. “Are you sure?”

Brody ignores my question as if it’s not even worth an answer. Tossing the condom on top of the mussed sheets, his hands go to the waistband of his shorts. He shoves them down, revealing boxer briefs in tropical blue—a color that sets off the rich golden hue of his skin. Brody yanks those off next, his hard cock slapping against his taut stomach with a lewd sound as he kicks them away.