The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,52
silence stretches, and I can feel her withdrawing. I don’t want that. I want her into this. Into me. Yes, I care about her. Yes, she’s my friend. I’ve thought about more with Ellie before. Of course I have. And the way I feel about that little prick coming around her is confusing. My raging emotions have me tied up in knots.
So tight, I’m afraid the only one who can untangle them is her.
“Make a move, Jackson,” she says softly. “Or let me go forever.”
I stare at her, frozen, her words on repeat in my brain.
Make a move? Yeah, no. I remember what Chuck told me. What I’ve told myself. This is a girl I shouldn’t mess with. No matter what she says, I know in the end…
I will hurt her.
“Well?” She lifts her chin, her dark eyes blazing into mine. “What’s it going to be?”
The words flicker through my brain at the same exact moment my lips find hers.
Fuck it.
Sixteen
Ellie
Oh God, Jackson is kissing me. What I said to him actually worked. I figured he’d bail as usual and I’d be left all alone with my thoughts, bitterly disappointed in him yet again.
Instead, his mouth is on mine. Hungry. Insistent. I’m pressed in between the door and his muscular body, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be. He kisses me stupid, his tongue searching my mouth, his hand dropping from the door to land on my hip, pulling me closer to him.
I can feel what I’m doing to him. Wait a minute. Is that his—
Oh my God, it’s huge.
He winds his arm around my waist, his hand finding my butt and holding me close. A whimper sounds, and I realize it’s me.
I’m whimpering.
Without hesitation, I sling my arms around his neck. Bury my fingers into the silky soft hair at his nape. Return his kiss with all the enthusiasm I’ve kept pent-up inside of me. He won’t let up, and I’m not even sure how we’re breathing, but I don’t want this moment to end.
I’m consuming him as he’s consuming me.
He wraps his other arm around me as well, and somehow, he lifts me, my legs automatically going around his waist. He pins me to the door, pressing his denim covered erection right against the spot where I ache for him the most and oh my God, when he does that, I see stars.
We let our mouths and hands do all the talking. Words ruin everything, especially between us. He finally breaks the kiss, only to run his hot mouth down my neck. Licking. Nibbling. His hands are sprawled across my butt, pulling me into him as he rubs against me. I grind against him right back, letting my body take over and do its thing. An incessant throbbing starts between my legs, making me feel greedy. I want more.
More, more, more.
“Let’s go inside,” he whispers against my lips, just before he resumes kissing me. This goes on for minutes. Hours. I don’t know. I’ve lost all track of time thanks to Jackson. “Show me your bed.”
It’s the way he says show me your bed that brings me back to reality. I press a hand to his chest, pushing a little. He breaks the kiss, lifting his head so our gazes meet, our heavy breaths mingling.
“I don’t know,” I tell him.
He frowns, lowering his brows. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“What’s going to happen if I ‘show you my bed’?”
“I’m going to make you feel good,” he says, his voice full of promise as he leans in to kiss me again, but I keep my arm extended so he can’t.
I know he can deliver on that promise. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to go there yet. I talked a good game just now, but I know myself. I feel too much.
For him.
“And after that?” I’m shaking. I don’t know why. Nerves maybe? I’m definitely not cold. I feel like I’m burning up.
“I don’t know. Does there have to be an after that? Can’t we just let it play out?” he asks, sounding pained.
“With me and you? Yes, there has to be an after that. Letting it play out might end up a total disaster.” I nod, proud of myself that I said it.
He needs to know he can’t just fuck me and forget me. Not that I think he would, but knowing Jackson, if we did actually have sex? Afterward, he’d avoid me.