Chapter 13

Samantha:

I spot Gavin crouched against the wall several feet away with his head in his hands.

“Hey, teach.” I immediately kick myself for greeting him this way. Way to drive it home that he should be avoiding you, dumbass.

He pushes off the wall and rises to his full height so I have to stretch my neck to look him in the eye. “Jeez, Sam, you could really get a guy into trouble. You know that?”

I do know that. In fact, it’s what I was counting on when I got dressed this evening. Not that I want Gavin to get into trouble. But I wouldn’t mind if we managed to create a little trouble just the two of us. I smooth my hands over the hem of my shimmery pink halter top, and his gaze follows the movement. “Does that mean you like my outfit?” I take a small step closer to him.

He swallows hard before answering. “I don’t think there’s a guy here tonight who doesn’t like your outfit.”

I don’t care about the other guys here, though—I only care what he thinks. Another step closer. Until we’re mere inches apart, our breaths the only air between us. And then we connect. My lips land on his softly, tentatively, and I pause, waiting for him to either push me away or kiss me back.

When his tongue presses against my lips, I open for him, and he answers my acceptance with a groan of approval. Then he’s pressing me back against the wall, covering my body with his.

I’m boneless, trapped in that exquisite place between Gavin’s body and the wall, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. Gavin rests a forearm against the wall next to my head and eliminates any remaining distance between our two bodies. I can feel every inch of him, from chest to torso to thigh, pressed against every inch of me. My hands itch to touch him, anywhere, everywhere. I set them at his hips, under the folds of his jacket, but it isn’t enough. As his tongue tangles with mine, thrilling my nerve endings with sensual, sweeping arcs, I spread my fingers under his shirt and dance them across his bare skin before splaying them at his back, pulling him closer, if that’s even possible.

I’m not cold anymore. In fact, my blood is on fire, my skin is electrified, practically sparking from the energy between us. Every fiber of my being is aware of Gavin and only Gavin. The rest of the world has ceased to exist. It’s just him and me now, just this feeling, this heat. This kiss.

Finally, he draws back panting, breaking our kiss, but not the contact between our bodies. He traces invisible trails across my cheek with soft fingers. “Mmm, I knew kissing you would be the experience of a lifetime.”

Heat rises in my cheeks at his words, and I resist the urge to duck my head, instead looking him straight in the eyes. “Think about kissing me a lot, do you?”

“Every second since I met you,” he answers without any shame in his voice.

The feeling is mutual, but I don’t tell him that. Wouldn’t want to stroke his already overblown ego. “Helps that I was naked when we met, huh?” I grin up at him.

He chuckles. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say it, but…” He presses his lips to mine again swiftly and sweetly, tenderly. I respond by tickling my nails across the bare skin of his back. He arches against me involuntarily and gasps at the contact. Then he chuckles low in his throat.

“Ticklish?” I mouth the word into the fractional space between our mouths.

“I guess so.” He leans in for another spine-tingling kiss.

“Gavin,” I use my best kitten voice, “I’m feeling a little faint. I think I probably need to go somewhere quiet where I can maybe… lie down.” I bat my eyelashes at him, feeling more than a little ridiculous. Then I straighten my expression and give him a look full of meaning. Full of offer. Full of hope that he won’t reject me.

Those beautiful hazel eyes of his widen in surprise, then darken with something altogether unchaste. “Would you like me to take you home?” But he’s playing innocent.

“I think that would be best,” I return, taking another step forward.

This time, Gavin takes a step backward and stumbles. He catches his balance quickly and looks up at me red faced. “I’m your teacher, Sam.”

“And my roommate,” I point out. Then I give him a teasing grin and a wink before feigning fatigue with the back of one hand pressed to my forehead. “You wouldn’t want me to faint out here on the sidewalk, would you?” I’m laying it on a little thick, but Gavin smiles at my antics.

“No, that definitely wouldn’t be a good thing. We better get you somewhere where you can recover your strength.” He sighs in resignation and gestures gallantly in the direction of his car halfway down the block. I don’t bother going back inside for my coat. I just pull my phone out of my knee-high boot and text Abby to let her know I’m leaving and to grab my things for me; I’ll get them from her in class on Monday.

When we get to the car, he opens the door for me, and I slide in. I’m all buckled up by the time Gavin gets in on his side, and I’m sitting primly next to him by the time he starts the car. We speed off down the street.

What might as well only be a few heartbeats later for all I remember the ride, we park outside our apartment building. He turns the ignition off but doesn’t immediately move to get out of the car. “You sure you don’t want me to take you back to your friends?”

So sure. Surer than sure. No one has ever been surer about anything than I am about wanting to be inside our apartment right now. “Yep.”

He climbs out, and I do the same. When I meet him on the sidewalk in front of the car, he directs me toward the steps leading to the lobby. I lead the way up the stairs but at the halfway point experience a brief moment of self-doubt. I know what I’m hoping will happen in that apartment. At the very least, I’m hoping for a hot any heavy make out sesh. But I wouldn’t be at all opposed to more than that, so much more. Does he even want to have sex with me? It’s too late to turn back now if he doesn’t, too late to pretend I’m not totally into him. So I keep going. I’ll find out soon enough if he’s going to make a move. On the landing, he takes the lead, steering us straight to the third door and unlocking it in one smooth move. A moment later, we’re inside, and he shuts and locks the door behind us.

He tosses his keys onto the console table by the door and shrugs out of his jacket as he heads toward the kitchen. “Want something to drink? A beer or something?” He drapes his jacket across the back of one of the bar stools on his way by.

I head for the living room. “Why Mr. Moore are you offering one of your students alcohol?” I tease. When he doesn’t answer, I look over my shoulder to find him all but frozen at the kitchen entrance.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” His half-grin makes it seem like he’s joking, but his tone holds a hint of uncertainty.

“Of course not. I’m only kidding.” I plop down on the couch and sit back against the cushions.

“So beer. Yay or nay?” he calls from somewhere in the kitchen.

“No, thank you.” I already had one at the club, not to mention the tequila we started the night with. I want to keep my wits about me for whatever might be about to happen, not be sloppy drunk and throwing myself at him in grotesque ways. Somewhere behind me, the refrigerator opens, and I hear the telltale hiss of a bottle opening and then the tinging sound of the cap hitting the floor or countertop or wherever it landed. Then he’s at my side, sitting next to me, beer in hand. He takes a long swig, then sets it on the table next to the couch.

“Feeling any better?” he teases.

“Much. Thank you.” I give him a wide smile and lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me. “There’s no place like home.”

Silence lingers for several minutes after that. Every time I try to come up with something to say, my nerve is tempered by my lack of cool. Maybe I should have stayed at the club and let Sarah and Maggie and Abby show me how to flirt because I suck at it.

I’m on the verge of excusing myself to go to bed when he puts us both out of my misery. “Wanna listen to some music or something? Or we could watch a movie.”

“Like flix and chill?” I offer with a half grin.

He blushes but doesn’t say anything.

“A movie sounds nice. What’s good?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen. The TV turns on, displaying an array of countless titles. He scrolls through several titles before settling on a dystopian, alien-invasion type film. Not brain food, but good for entertainment. Just how I like my movies.

He sets his phone on the table next to his beer. When he settles fully back on the couch again, he lifts his arm and lets it fall to rest on the cushions behind me. This is my cue to give him the go ahead to make his big move. I look up at him with what I hope are my best doe eyes and lick my lips.

That’s apparently all the encouragement he needs. His lips land on mine with urgency, like he’s barely been restraining himself from kissing me all night. He moves over me like a man on a mission, a man who knows what he wants, but his movements are soft, practiced.

His taste is spicy and holds the tang of beer, but his kiss is sweet, sensual, adoring. His tongue slides over mine like the sweetest caress, and his hand lands along my jaw to mirror the action. His kiss strokes over my lips while his thumb glides along my chin. When his hand moves first to my neck, then to my shoulder, his kisses follow, leaving my lips and trailing along my jaw to my neck. Slowly, so infinitely slowly, he presses me backward until I’m lying under him on the couch. His body spreads across mine, but almost none of his weight presses down on me, like he’s carefully holding himself up.

I wrap an arm around him, resting it on his shoulder blade, and tangle the other one in his hair. He lowers his weight onto me in infinitesimal increments, moving so immeasurably gently that I almost don’t realize he’s doing it. Like a lobster in a pot of water, I think with a bite of humor.

When his kisses drift back up to my mouth, I let out an audible sigh, and he claims it with his mouth the moment it leaves my lips. My stomach is in knots of nervous energy, and my whole body feels like it has been electrified.

I break the kiss to catch my breath, and he peppers tiny kisses along my jawline to my ear. His breath is warm and soft and sends a shiver down my spine. He answers my shudder with a soft groan and presses his full weight into me, thrusts his hardness against me.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this since that first night. Every time I saw you, it was like you were teasing me, winding me up only to let me down because we shouldn’t be together, can’t be together.” His words are breathless against my skin, and he rocks against me, sending a jolt of heat sizzling through me.

As his lips lower to mine, I’m only faintly aware of the sound of metal against metal. Keys. The deadbolt sliding back.

Robby’s home.

Gavin must hear it, too, because he bolts away from me, leaping almost to the other side of the couch. I’m considerably slower sitting up, but by the time Robby comes into the room I’m sitting up and looking mostly composed. I hope.

“Hey, how was the show?” I call out, drying to sound casual.

“Good! I saw you there for a little bit. You left early.” He looks at us curiously.

I nod, hoping to keep my guilt from showing on my face. “I wasn’t feeling well, so Gavin brought me home.”

Robby nods. “Whatcha guys watchin’?” he asks as he heads to the kitchen. He aims for the refrigerator and pulls out a beer, then rounds the island to sit on one of the bar stools.

“Invasion.” Maybe it’s my imagination, but Gavin’s voice sounds raw.

Robby makes a sound of disgust and gets up from the stool. “That movie sucked. I’m gonna shower and get to bed. 5 a.m. comes early.” And with those words, he leaves the room. As soon as I hear Robby’s bedroom door click shut, I turn to Gavin. Maybe we can pick up where we were so rudely interrupted.

“I should get to bed too,” he says and takes a long pull from his beer. “Got work early in the morning.”

“You have class on a Friday?” I ask in surprise.

He shakes his head. “Just studying and my other job, at the gym. Student-teaching doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

He works at a gym. Guess that explains that lickably delicious body. But what it doesn’t explain is the complete change in his attitude. Just a few minutes ago, he was all over me. Now, he seems antsy, won’t meet my gaze, and is ready to go to bed at—I peek at the clock on the shelf under the TV—11:23 p.m. Something about Robby coming home has triggered a complete change in Gavin’s mood. As if to prove it, Gavin doesn’t wait for me to say anything. He gets up from the couch and makes for the hall without so much as glancing back in my direction.

“Wait a sec…” I call out after him, and he stops but doesn’t turn. “What’s with the hot and cold act?”

He sighs and brings a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. He’s silent for so long, I begin to think he isn’t going to answer. Then finally, he says, “This can’t happen.”

“What can’t happen?” I suspect I already know, but I want to hear him say the words.

“Us.”

“Okaayyy…” I draw out the word, partly in confusion and partly hoping he’ll take it as an invitation to elaborate. Or take his pronouncement back.

“You’re my student, Sam.” His voice is full of exasperation.

“Didn’t we already have this conversation? I’m also your roommate.” I tease.

“I’m serious, Sam. I could get into trouble. It’s not worth the risk.”

He said it wasn’t worth the risk, but the message I get as he turns and retreats down the hall is that I’m not worth the risk.