The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,94

he nuzzles his nose against my neck.

“It’s actually been over an hour. I got stuck in a conversation with Eli and Caleb about our game next week.” His lips move against my sensitive skin when he speaks. “I don’t give a shit about football.”

“You don’t?” I frown, settling my hands over his.

“Don’t really give a shit about the music either,” he adds, his teeth grazing the spot just beneath my ear.

“You’re lying.” I melt against him when he shifts his arms lower, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, touching my bare skin.

“It’s true.” His mouth is at my ear once more, his husky voice making me throb between my thighs. “The only thing I care about right now is you.”

I slowly turn within his arms, so I can face him, my expression somber. The effects of the alcohol I consumed earlier have seemed to wear off. I am completely sober. “Do you really mean that?”

He grabs my hand, resting my palm against the center of his chest. I can feel his rapidly beating heart. “Feel that?”

I nod.

“That’s what you do to me.” His fingers encircle my wrist and he shifts my hand lower, to the front of his jeans. “Feel that?”

I curl my fingers around his erection, hoping no one is paying attention to us.

“You do that to me too. Now let’s go to my room,” he says, his expression, his tone so, so serious.

Only his eyes are lit with a fire that I recognize.

The same fire that burns inside me.

We don’t say anything to announce our departure. We just leave, Jackson leading me down the short hall to his bedroom. We slip inside the room, Jackson reaching over and turning on the lamp that sits on top of his dresser before he pulls the door shut and locks it. I glance around his room, taking it all in. It’s clean, nothing cluttered on top of every available surface like my space. His bed is neatly made, and I go to sit on the edge of it, anticipation curling through me at what is about to happen next.

Along with a healthy dose of fear.

He must’ve taken a shower before he came home, because he’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, his tank and jeans long gone. I watch as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side. He whips his shirt off next, pulling it off with one hand in that casual way guys do. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest. It’s lean. Sculpted with muscle that stretches smooth and taut. A flat belly with a golden trail of hair that leads from below his navel and far past the waistband of his shorts.

“I realized that last time I got to see you naked, but you’ve never seen me naked,” he says, his voice casual. Like it’s no big deal, that the man of my dreams is stripping in front of me. “Figured you were curious.”

I say nothing. My voice has completely left me.

He rests his hand against the center of his chest for a brief moment before it goes sliding down. Over the flat terrain of his stomach, until his fingers are toying with the waistband of his shorts. “Do you like watching me, Ellie?”

I realize I do a lot of that. Watch Jackson. When he’s out on the football field. When he’s on stage. He’s my favorite thing to look at, bar none.

“I do,” I whisper.

His hand slips beneath the front of his shorts, and he palms himself. I wish I could see everything. Witness him stroking himself. What a sight to see. So much on display for me to look at, I don’t know where to look first.

So I watch his busy hand moving beneath his shorts, and I fantasize what he looks like naked.

He must see the need on my face, because he gets rid of the shorts, kicking them away when they fall to his feet. He’s just in his boxer briefs now. They cling to him like a second skin, the pale gray fabric outlining everything.

Everything.

Jackson walks toward me, leaning over as I tip my head back, our lips meeting in a deliciously dirty, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue plunders, wrapping around my own, his hand sliding into my hair, gripping the back of my head, fingers tugging on the strands. It hurts, but I like the sting, the hungry way he kisses me, how he’s not holding anything back. I can feel his energy washing