“Oh my God,” she whispered, now rolling her hand through my thick hair. Dropping her elbows, she lay flat on the bed. “Grrraaay.”

Her labored breathing built to a crescendo, and all inhibitions left the room as she held on to my ears, rolling her hips over the mattress for more of my mouth. Then she instantly hardened under my tongue and cried out. I was still latched onto her sweetness as I watched her eyes roll to the back of her head. And when her moaning waned, her arms fell limp at her sides.

When I lifted my head, as I suspected, she slammed her legs shut. Then immediately, she flipped on her side, panting against the wall.

I cannot describe the feeling of doing that to her. Especially for the first time. The pure ecstasy washing over her flushed face would fuel my dreams for months, if not years.

Hopping into bed, I pulled the covers over us. “We don’t have to do anything else, Sydney.”

She turned to face me and smiled. “That felt really, really good. Like, why hadn’t I allowed that years ago?” Lifting a fist to the ceiling, she shook it toward God. “WASTED YOUTH!”

Then she pulled my chin to her lips and kissed me. It was extra long and extra deep. Searching for something I hoped I was giving her.

“Honey,” she said, pulling away, and I watched her tongue slide across her bottom lip.

“What?”

Resting my elbow on the pillow, I held my head in my palm, letting her angelic face sink into my mind. Before this night, I’d been with three other girls. Not one of them as sexy as Sydney. Her dark hair framed her huge doe eyes, peeking up at me from long lashes. Her smile was perfect and white, tucked into a flawless set of cheeks. When she laughed, it was so deep and real. She was infectious.

“I taste like honey,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Do you disagree?”

I smirked. “No, although I think there was a hint of mint chocolate chip ice cream down there too,” I teased, lifting the sheets and staring down at her crossed legs. “Let me double-check.”

I headed back down, and she squealed.

“Get back up here, Peters.” She lifted her knee, bonking my forehead.

Pulling back up, I lay back on my pillow and slid my arm under her neck.

“I need a minute to recover. You really got me worked up, and I’m on sensory overload.”

“Tell me more,” I joked, but I was desperate to hear about my skills.

Instead of waxing my ego, she lowered her hand to my boxers. When she gently pulled over me, I let out a low, needy groan.

“You have a condom, right?”

Grabbing one from my nightstand drawer, I ripped the foil package. I began rolling it over me, but Sydney finished the job.

Then she lowered her head under the covers. I fought against a grunt as her hair grazed my bare chest, slipping down my stomach in a feathery wave. When her tongue ran over my belly, all my blood rushed to my groin. “Baby,” I rasped. “That feels so good.”

She kissed the sides of my hips, which were sore and bruised from practice, and I arched my back to catch more of her soft mouth. Hot breath coated my sides like a warm blanket. It made me ache for those pouty lips all over me. When a pair of hands ran up my thighs in one smooth motion, I’d had about enough of her teasing.

I gently tugged her back up by her bicep.

Sydney’s head poked up from under the covers with a small frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

Cupping her sweet face, I brought her close to my mouth. “Absolutely not. I just want to see your beautiful face.”

She kissed me again, and I groaned into her mouth as she moved up to straddle my hips.

Then the world went away as she sank down on top of me. It was nice and slow at first. She moved up and down, teasing me, so I grabbed her ass and pushed in deeper.

When she drew in a sharp, harsh breath, I stopped. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” Please say you’ve never been with someone so large.

She smiled and moved her hips again. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

I lifted up to a sitting position and studied her face. Is she really in pain?

“Is it okay if we go slow?” she asked as her hair slid over her eyes.

“Of course,” I said, pulling it to the side.

That neck was too much to ignore. It was soft and smooth. Screaming for my mouth. As I had my way against her throat, pulling in every mouthful of skin I could gather, my hands roamed over her warm back, tracing her tattoo with my fingers.

With each swipe of my fingertip, Sydney arched her back. And when I cupped her ass, squeezing the handfuls of flesh in my hands, she whimpered over my shoulder.

On each pass, I could feel her muscles flex over me. She was so tight and wet and warm.

Pulling away from her neck, I saw she was focused on my face. A slight smile crossed her lips just as she clenched over me again, and I bit into her shoulder, releasing a frenzied moan.

“Jesus, Sydney. You’ve got to tell me how you exercise that muscle.”

She laughed and did it again, and an embarrassing instinctual grunt arose until I was sure I was red in the face.

Pulling her underneath me, I eased my hips to her and pinned her arms above her head. She panted into my neck as I made slow, controlled pumps, feeling every luscious wall inside her body.

She wasn’t skinny like some of the girls I’d been with. Sydney had curves and soft flesh with a lean muscularity underneath. Her breasts lifted with each thrust, and I greedily took them into my mouth. When she arched her hips upward, I could tell she was craving a higher angle, so I wrapped the backs of her knees over my shoulders.

“Faster,” she whispered, ending her words with an exasperated moan. “Faster. Please, Gray.”

I slammed my hips into her until my own breath grew so urgent I couldn’t hold back. As if she knew, that little devil squeezed down over me. I came loud, rocking my hips into her until she released a sharp cry of her own, and I collapsed onto her chest. Her frantic breaths bounced my head up and down, but I didn’t want to move. I never wanted to move again.

“Sydney,” I whispered, enjoying the warmth of her skin, “how soon can you transfer?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

My body was on fire, and my head was still pounding, when Peters dropped me off at my dorm.

He woke me in the early morning while everyone was still asleep. On our way to my dorm, he pulled through a drive-up coffee place. Peters ordered me a coffee, and when I questioned why he didn’t order one, he said he didn’t drink coffee. I told him to stop being nice to me, and he said he’d never stop, which made me even more flustered and nervous.

Twice, he put his hand on my knee.

The first time, I swatted it off, and he laughed. The second time, I let him leave it there. I felt ridiculous in his T-shirt, and I’d borrowed a pair of his boxers. When his hand inched closer to the boxers’ trap door, I crossed my legs, blocking his access. He peered over at me with an exaggerated frown, but it soon erupted into his signature Gray Peters charming smile.

During the car ride, I glanced at my phone several times, expecting a news flash to come across the screen. And I peeked up to the sky a handful of times, expecting to see the Goodyear blimp overhead with a lit-up sign: Sunday Lane is Sydney Porter… Murder… Death… Kill.

Realistically, it was still too early for my dream wrecker to learn Jack didn’t in fact sleep with one of the Shrieking T’s, but it was just a matter of time. The saddest part, though? I was beginning to dread Peters finding out more than the rest of the student body. For all our faults, I had fun with him, and the way he looked at me was fast melting my ice-bitch heart.