that flares so bright it burns, scalds, and scars.
“I don't have a condom,” Tristan whispers, and something clicks in me. He isn't carrying condoms around because he's not sleeping with other girls. And he isn't carrying them around because he's not scheming or trying to get with me. For maybe the first time in his life, he's not planning anything at all.
“I …” I start, breathing hard, squeezing my hand around his shaft. “I've seen your results, and I started birth control this summer, so …” There's a long stretch of silence before I look back at him, and his mouth curves into the sharpest, most wicked of smiles.
“Excellent.”
Tristan encourages me to stroke and tease him, working up this wild tension between us into a frenzy. He removes his fingers from inside of me, and disrobes me with expert precision, baring my breasts and leaving my black jacket and blazer hanging off my shoulders, the black silk of the tie falling between them.
“Stand up and turn around,” he commands, and I gape at him. He cocks one, perfect dark brow. “Well, my naughty little schoolgirl, what are you waiting for?” Tristan pulls me off the counter and spins me around, pushing me over so that my palms are on the tiled surface and our faces are reflected back at me in the mirror. “I shouldn’t be doing this …” he whispers, almost to himself. “But I can’t stop myself. I need to be inside of you, Marnye.”
He grabs my hip with his right hand, positions himself with his left, and then looks up at the mirror to meet my gaze dead-on.
Tristan thrusts inside of me, deep and hard, making my back curl with pleasure, my fingertips dig into the counter. He rocks me back and forth, my breasts swaying gently with the motion. I can see the pleasure my body brings him written all over his face.
He feels so warm inside of me, I think, loving that he’s bare and naked inside my heated core. His fingers keep my skirt pushed up and out of the way, black pleats all bunched together. The tie swings with our motions as well, my blazer hanging loosely on my back, the red and black Burberry Prep crest just barely visible in the reflection.
Tristan fucks me into the counter, and then spills himself inside of me, this hot burst that runs down my legs after. I’m so not used to it that I just stand there after he pulls out, and he chuckles.
“Marnye, you sweet-sweet thing.” He makes me sit on the toilet until most of the um, liquid is gone and wiped away, kneeling down in front of me and reaching up to palm the heavy weight of my bare breast. “I’m nowhere near done with you,” he whispers, pulling me down to the floor and climbing on top of me. His fingers find their way inside my heat, his thumb easing over my clit. He kisses and sucks at my neck, leaving hickeys that feel too good for me to worry about what they might look like later.
“I love you, Marnye Reed,” he whispers in my ear, just as my climax hits like a wave and shatters me to pieces, body, heart, and soul.
Tristan opens the bathroom door and steps out, letting it close behind him while he scouts around to make sure the coast is clear. Of course, it isn't even remotely clear.
Lizzie Walton is waiting.
As soon as I hear her voice, I pause, leaning my ear against the door.
“You've been in there for quite a while, Tristan,” she says, her voice thick with hurt and frustration.
“So what? Do you monitor how long I go to the bathroom for? Is there a time limit on the act?”
“Don't do that. Don't get angry with me because you don't know how else to act. We know each other too well to play those sorts of games.” Lizzie pauses. “Marnye, you can come out now.”
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
I'm sweaty, and shaky, and honestly I'm ready to go back to my room and scream into a pillow. There are so many emotions running through me; I need time to process them all.
The last thing I want to do is face Lizzie Walton.
But she knows I'm here, so I step out into the quiet hush of the library, the soft murmur of voices, and the scratch of old pages being turned.
Lizzie is looking right at me with her amber eyes, her mouth in a flat line,