I nod. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”
She hurries off, and it leaves me with Taylor, which is honestly not where I want to be. We’ve been friends for a long time, but over the last couple of years we’ve really drifted apart. Everything I do now seems to be met with skepticism and sarcasm. But I’m already locked in to dinner, so I might as well see it through.
“Are you still planning on pledging Tri Delta?” she asks.
I actually had barely thought about the sorority since I moved into Granite House. I was desperately seeking companionship and sisterhood, but since she made me do the dare, that had kind of fallen apart in my mind. It doesn’t really matter that the results of the dare turned out well, they almost didn’t.
Do I still want to be a part of a group of girls that likes to challenge people like that without knowing the consequences, or possibly worse, hoping that the consequences are bad? I’m not sure.
“Maybe,” I say. “We’ll see when pledge time comes around.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
I shrug. “No reason.” There’s no chance that I’m telling Taylor that Malcolm seems to have a problem with Melody that he hasn’t fully told me about. He didn’t paint her in a good light, and so far on the scoreboard, Malcolm is winning. Even when he was pissed at me and planning to hold me hostage about the broken heirloom, he was honest with me.
I’m not sure that Melody was.
Without Bailey in between us, we honestly don’t have that much to say to each other. I finish my salad in awkward silence, and we barely say goodbye even when we’re finished.
I guess I hadn’t realized how little we had in common anymore, but this is college. It happens. People move on, and it’s clear that Taylor already has. That’s fine. I have somewhere to be. Knowing where I’m going and what’s waiting, I practically run home.
15
Juno
There’s a party in full swing at Granite House, but I just go upstairs. Not really my scene. But I’m glad that there’s a party because when I inevitably lose my fucking mind the noise will cover it up.
I told Malcolm that I had to study for a test when I got home and I locked myself in my room. All he did was smirk because he knew exactly what I was doing, but he let it slide. Technically I did have my first anatomy test next week, but that’s not why I locked myself away.
Right now, just the sight of Malcolm makes me wet, and I know that if I get close to him before midnight that I’m not going to be able to hold myself back. And there’s no way that I’m letting this orgasm ban get extended. I’ll die of pleasure starvation.
So instead of studying, which I’ll do this weekend, I’m getting ready. I went off campus and bought my first real set of lingerie. Black and strappy and sexy. And I’m doing my make-up. Dark eyes and big mascara.
When that’s done, I do actually study for a while, because I have almost an hour until I’m going across the hall and I need to keep myself distracted. I swear that my body has developed a muscle memory for pleasure. Just thinking about him I’m warm, my pussy already damp and ready for what’s going to happen.
Or at least what I hope is going to happen. Mal has a way of taking my expectations and twisting them around. Always in a good way.
I’m barely studying. Just watching the clock. I make it until eleven forty-five before I can’t handle it anymore. I put on my robe and cross the hall, knocking. Malcolm opens it, shirtless in only sweatpants, hair wet from a shower.
Immediately he notes my make-up and the bits of lingerie peeking out from my robe. He smirks. “You were trying to wait till midnight.”
“I was.”
“Impatient?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. “For the love of god, let me in.”
He opens the door further, and I press past him. The door shuts behind me and he flicks the lock, the party noise muffling as it closes.
“You made it this far,” he says, leaning in and brushing his lips across my cheek. “You can make it another fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not so sure that I can.”
He pulls my robe off and tosses it aside, circling me slowly and drinking me in. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
My cheeks are on fire, and I can’t meet his eyes. Mal’s hand cups my cheek, and he tilts my face up to his. His lips meet mine in the most chaste kiss that we’ve ever shared.
“You can,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“How?”
He points to a place beside the bed. “Kneel there.”
My eyes go wide. “You’re serious?”
“When have I ever joked about this?” He raises one eyebrow, meaning this thing between us.
I press my lips together. “Never.”
“Exactly.”
Sinking to my knees on the carpet, I wait. And even though Malcolm isn’t touching me I feel like I’ve never been more aware of him. Especially in this room, where we’ve spent so much time learning each other and forging this connection. He sits at his desk behind me, and I can feel him like he has his hands on my skin.
Time seems to stretch, and I swear that it’s longer than fifteen minutes. But also maybe not. Waiting makes things longer. Every part of me is at attention. My nipples are hard beneath the fabric and I can feel my own heat and wetness on my thighs.
I don’t know what the hell he’s doing behind me. Homework, maybe, since I hear him typing on my laptop. Everything slips away into this state of awareness that is only him. And only me. Perfection.
Finally, after what feels like forever, I hear the tiny click that is his laptop shutting. The chair creaks as he shifts. Fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls
