Hushed Page 8

  I set a plate on the counter next to him and rested my hand on his arm for comfort. "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah. I wish I'd known him. I've always wanted a brother."

  "What happened to him?" I didn't know if it was gauche to ask, but I couldn't help myself. I felt sad, and bad for bringing it up.

  "Bicycle accident. He was twelve. He was on his way to school on a sunny spring day. A car hit him." He stared into the soapy water, playing with the bubbles as he slid a plate in. Looking like he didn't want me to see his pain.

  "Dad doesn't talk about it much. My brother had massive head injuries. He was wearing a helmet. It came off during impact. His head hit a curb. He lingered for a week before Mom and Dad made the decision to take him off life support. Ultimately, his death broke up the marriage." He looked up, his hands full of bubbles. His eyes full of sorrow. "It's just a story to me. You know how things are that happened before you were born. Ancient history."

  I came up behind him, wrapped my arms around him, and rested my head on his back. The wine had taken away my inhibitions. I was pleasantly buzzed. "But your parents stayed together long enough to have you!" I sounded way enthusiastic. Because I was.

  He snorted. "Yeah. Their replacement son. That didn't work out well. You?"

  "I have a brother. Who followed me to school one day. He's a professor here."

  "He's a professor? How old is he?" Seth wiped his hands on a towel.

  I gave him a squeeze and reluctantly let go of him. "Thirty-four.

  Seth paused. "Same age as my brother would have been."

  "Really? Another thing we have in common," I said. "Most of my friends' brothers and sisters are much closer to them in age." I grabbed the leftover chicken. "Where do you want this?"

  He gave me directions where to find a plastic storage container to put it in and asked me to put it in the fridge. His fridge was surprisingly full. And sitting right in front was a large bowl full of a lush spinach salad.

  "Oh," I said, touched. "I'm sorry. You should have served this."

  He turned around to look. "And forced you to eat the bitter stuff? I wanted you to enjoy my cooking." He shook his head. "It's okay. It keeps."

  "But you went to a lot of work."

  He slid the rest of the dirty pots and pans into the soapy water to soak. "Yeah. So why ruin the evening with bitterness?" He grabbed the second bottle of wine that was still sitting on the counter and lifted it toward me. "You still have more homework to do."

  I was already feeling lightheaded from drinking my share of the first bottle of wine. A second bottle was such a bad idea. "You're right." I tossed him the cork puller. "Are you going to help me?"

  He grinned that sexy grin of his as he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. "I can't text the guy who made this one. Sorry." He handed me a glass. "And I may not even be a super taster." He took a drink of wine.

  I matched him. "We could find out. If you had blue food coloring." I didn't hold out much hope for that. What guy had blue food coloring lying around?

  "We're in luck. I do." He went to the cupboard.

  I giggled, like he was being absurd.

  "What's so funny? I have it." He held up a bottle of it for me to see.

  I reached for it. "I can't believe it."

  "Green beer," he said cryptically. "For St. Patrick's Day. Add blue to yellow beer…"

  "Ah," I said. "And here I thought you were also a master pastry chef or something. If you have a cotton swab, we're in business."

  "Be right back." He returned a minute later with a handful of them.

  I grabbed a piece of notebook paper and explained the experiment to him as I tore off a piece with a hole in it. "I'm going to swab your tongue with the blue food coloring. Put this hole over it and count how many taste buds you have." I squirted the food coloring onto the swab. "Stick out your tongue."

  "Dad told me never to stick my tongue out at people, especially girls."

  "Do you always do what you dad told you to?" I raised one eyebrow, challenging him.

  He stuck his tongue out. As I swabbed it, he made a face. I laughed and put the paper over it. I didn't need to count the pink taste buds that now stood out. I could tell at a glance he was a regular taster. But I leaned in close and made a show of it, bracing my hands against his chest. "Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Oh, so close! But not a super taster. You missed it by this much." I held my fingers a tiny bit apart.

  He pulled his tongue in. "How many did I need?"

  "Thirty-five." I pulled away from him.

  He grabbed his wine and took a drink.

  "I'm impressed, though, by the way you combine flavors. Super taster or not, you have good taste." I took a drink of my wine, too.

  He grabbed a cotton swab and the food coloring. "Let me count yours."

  I hesitated.

  "Fair's fair. I want to see a super tongue."

  I giggled again and stuck my tongue out.

  He leaned in close and swabbed my tongue. His face was inches from mine. "Your tongue looks like one big taste bud. Awesome." He grabbed my arms and leaned even closer. So close, our noses almost touched. He smelled like wine and cologne. His lips were full and tantalizing.

  "Count," I said with my mouth open and my tongue out.

  "This could take awhile." His voice was low and sensuous as he counted. "Thirty-four." Closer. "Thirty-five." Closer still.

  So close, I closed my eyes.

  "Thirty-six." He slipped my tongue into his mouth and sucked, pulling me against him, sliding his thigh between mine and rubbing me like he had before dinner.

  Making me weak in the knees. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sucked and licked back. Pressing my lips to his, hard. Nibbling. Moaning softly as his leg rubbed between mine, making me wet with pleasure.

  He lifted me off my feet, pressing his hard dick against me. I was drunk on him as much as on the wine. Everything about him turned me on. He wasn't at all like Zach had made him out to be. He was sweet and considerate. And totally hot.

  I jumped into his arms and swung my legs around his waist. He carried me to the counter and set me on it, kissing me in a way that took my breath away. Then his kiss left my lips and trailed down my neck to the hollow where my pulse beat wildly for him.

  I pulled off his beanie and ran my hands through his thick hair. He ran his hands beneath my blouse, up to the back clasp on my bra. I was glad I'd worn my pretty lace one. And the matching panties.

  I should have stopped him. I didn't hook up with guys. It wasn't me. But I didn't. One more feel. Just one touch of his hot hands on my breasts. He unhooked my bra. Without fumbling. Then his hands were warm and firm on my bare back.

  He kissed me again, picked me up, and carried me without breaking the kiss. I closed my eyes and let him carry me away him. I rode him to his dark bedroom. He closed the door with his foot, like he was practiced at this.

  He laid me down on my back as the bed groaned beneath us. "You are so hot. So damned gorgeous." He cupped my breasts, pushing them up in mounds beneath my blouse. Then he was sucking on them through the fabric of my shirt and my lace bra while I trembled with pleasure.

  I lifted his shirt and ran my hands over his back and then his chest. I felt the strong pulse of his heart and imagined it was mine. That it beat for me.

  I didn't know what possessed me. Why I wanted him so badly. I was drowsy with wine and pleasantly buzzed. Tingly in all the right places. I wanted what I wanted. Any objections about moving too fast were dulled by the fizzy way the wine made my head feel.

  I lifted his shirt over his head. He shrugged it off like he was eager to show off his finely sculpted chest and the excellent bulge of his biceps. I ran my hands over his arms—so toned and delectably touchable—and licked his nipple.

  "This isn't fair." His voice was low and filled with desire. "I'm half naked. And you're fully dressed."

  "Nothing's fair in love or war." I kissed him as he reached for the hem of my blouse. I fought hi
m for a minute, teasing him while he cupped my breast and pinched my nipple gently, in a way that turned me on more. Finally, I gave in and let him pull it over my head. I slid my loose bra off. His pupils were dark, but his eyes went wide at the sight of my naked, peaked breasts.

  "Beautiful." It was like he was mesmerized.

  I reached up and pulled him against me, pressing him against my breasts and rubbing my crotch against the hard dick in his jeans as if there was no clothing between us. He moaned and kissed my neck, then rolled off me and reached between us to unzip my jeans.

  He slid his fingers into the warmth between my legs. "Damn, you're wet."

  I'd only meant to neck and pet. I was so close to climaxing with his finger stroking me. I wanted to feel him, too. I unzipped his jeans and pulled him out. He was long and hard.

  I stroked him. Until his breath caught and it seemed like a contest between who could get the other to come first. He stroked me with his fingers. I pumped him with my hand. He kissed my nipple. I playfully bit his shoulder.

  I ran my finger over the tip of his dick. It was wet and ready, pulsing.

  He swore beneath his breath and slid my jeans off, then pulled something out of his pocket and held up a condom. He'd come prepared. Was this sweet and adorable? Or way too hookup-like for me? The wine interfering with my sense of reason didn't care.

  He leaned down and whispered, his breath hot in my ear, "I can't hold on forever. Either keep stroking me like that or let's put this on and finish together."

  I grabbed the condom from him, giggling though it wasn't funny. Or maybe it was. Or maybe I was more nervous than I thought. I made a move like I was going to toss the condom away, like I was throwing away temptation.

  He grabbed my hand and squeezed, rubbing sensually with his thumb, holding my gaze, imploring me with his eyes. There was that vulnerable look again. It melted my heart and made me hot for him beyond reason.

  It was too soon. Much too soon. Officially, this was still just a study date tinged with seduction. We were moving at lightning speed. I felt powerless to stop it. Like fate will be fate. Need is need.

  But my head buzzed. I felt like I was thinking through a fog. His eyes begged me not to stop. Want. Want. Want. I wanted to feel him deep inside. I pushed away the voice of reason and ripped open the wrapper before I changed my mind. He kicked off his jeans and underwear. I pulled the condom out, pushed it onto his tip, and rolled it down over him.

  He kissed me. I pulled him to me. He pushed inside me past my panties. I held him tight as he speared me, pressing me to the bed as he moved in and out of my wetness. Tense, like he was holding back, waiting for me. I held on to him. Tighter and tighter. Moving with him. Until finally, I let myself go and cried out with pleasure and let myself fly.

  He was still and quiet for just a second. And then he thrust hard one more time. He groaned, and I knew he was flying, too. The tension left him. He collapsed on me, holding his full weight off and resting his head against mine and breathing hard. "Wow."

  "Wow," I echoed back to him, and smiled. I could have said more, but what? That I might be falling in love with him? "Wow" seemed more than enough and far too little.

  He slid out of me and lay on his back, grinning. He turned toward me and brushed a lock of hair out of my face as he kissed me again, tasting like wine.

  His eyes were drowsy now, too, as he took the condom off and set it aside. He slid his arm around me and pulled me close. I nestled into the crook of his arm beneath his chin, listening to the beat of his heart.

  We were both grinning. My eyes felt heavy. I shivered.

  "Cold?" He grabbed a throw blanket and pulled it over us.

  It smelled like him, his cologne, his body scent. I snuggled into him beneath it, coiling around him.

  We lay in each other's arms, smiling with afterglow. Music pounded in the apartment next to us, trying to hide the rhythmic thumping of Saturday-night sex. The light from a streetlight filtered in through the blinds. I was so warm and cozy. And happy.

  I blinked, trying to keep my eyes open. Seth kissed the top of my head. I thought I would just close my eyes for a second…

  Chapter 8

  Maddie

  I woke with a start to a blinding brightness. My head pounded. For a second I was disoriented. I couldn't remember where I was. I didn't think it was my bed. There was a weight like an arm across my waist. I covered my eyes with my arm and opened one eye slowly, peeking beneath my arm to the masculine arm around me.

  Crap. What time is it?

  I had the sinking feeling it was morning. And then I remembered the wine. And the sex. And Seth. And just closing my eyes for a minute.

  I removed my arm from my eyes and looked at the guy sleeping naked next to me. Peaceful and relaxed in sleep, he was a total heartbreaker. At least, my heart was cracking in two. And I was still naked, too, except for my panties.

  I had just committed the cardinal sin for someone who wanted a relationship, not a hookup. I mean, I'd slept with him on a mere study date. Okay, I had gotten dinner out of the deal. And I had enjoyed every minute of it. But I had a sinking feeling that this signaled the end of the sweet, attentive Seth. I had to get out of here.

  I really didn't want him to see me like this, with bedhead hair, smudged makeup, and morning mouth. I slid out from beneath his arm and looked around for my jeans, blouse, and shoes. I scooped them off the floor and turned my back to Seth as I dressed like I was suddenly Miss Modesty personified. I put my jeans on. I was fastening my bra when his voice stopped me cold.

  "Leaving without saying goodbye? I thought that was a guy thing. I'd like the view better if you'd turn around. And come back to bed." He patted the mattress—at least, that was what it sounded like. His voice was sexy, seductive in a totally tempting way that made me tingle all over.

  "I didn't want to wake you." I tried to sound light and flippant.

  "That's what they all say."

  "Anyway, who says I was leaving?" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, full of nerves and suddenly shy. I cleared my throat. "But I really should be going. I didn't mean to spend the night—"

  "Don't go." There was that sexy vulnerability again. So sweet and charming. "I'm glad you did."

  Damn, how did he do that? Sound so genuine. Like he was more than glad. Much more.

  The bed creaked like he was getting up. Followed by rustling fabric. Like he was getting dressed, too. I imagined him pulling his jeans up over his lean hips. Tucking himself in. Reaching for his fly.

  I was getting turned on. By the thought of him dressing. Because, in truth, I wanted to be the one running my hands over his body. I wanted everything—more physical intimacy, the emotional connection we'd had last night, the sweet murmurs of a lover.

  I hurriedly pulled my blouse on. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, still warm from the comfort of the bed. He'd put his jeans on, but no shirt. His chest rubbed naked and hard against my back. Like the bulge in his jeans pressed up against the back of my butt.

  I wanted him. I wanted to do him again. But it was such a bad idea. I wanted more out of this…this thing we had going. More of a chase. More seduction. More romance. More time for feelings to grow. I was past the wild partying of freshman year and ready for something of substance. Like a real boyfriend. Not a study screw buddy.

  "Let me make you breakfast before you go." He slid my hair over my shoulder. His breath was hot on my neck and sexy with morning hoarseness. I could have listened to it all day. "I'm used to making Sunday breakfast for girls. And good at it."

  I hesitated, happy he wasn't eagerly shoving me out the door. Hopeful for all the wrong reasons.

  What time was it, anyway? I had tons of things to do and none of them were Seth. Olivia would tease me mercilessly if she saw me doing the walk of shame. That's what everyone called it when they saw girls staggering home dressed in rumpled clothes from the night before. Not that anyone was actually shamed. But sometimes it was incredibly
funny to watch hung over girls teeter home.

  I ran my fingers through my tangled hair as I spotted a clock on Seth's nightstand. I held back a sigh of resignation. It was already late.

  "I make great coffee." He ran his hand through my tangled hair and whispered in my ear, "I think we both could use some."

  I don't know what possessed me. I nodded. "Sounds great. Bathroom?"

  He pointed. "Zach and I each have our own. Just don't get any ideas about sneaking out the window." Then he laughed. "There isn't one."

  He didn't offer me a shacker shirt. There was some prestige in a guy lending you his shirt so you could go home in something clean and, most importantly, different. And commitment. The guy would probably want the shirt back. So he'd have to see you again. It was a ploy. Like "accidentally" leaving something at your place. Did no shacker shirt mean total lack of commitment? Why did I have to analyze everything?

  As I hurried into the bathroom, I thought, Olivia will tease me mercilessly for hooking up with a lab partner.

  When I came out of the powder room, Seth's bedroom was empty and the smell of coffee and eggs made my stomach rumble.

  I found Seth and Zach in the kitchen. And Alexis sitting at the table. She was leafing through an old sorority scrapbook with an intense look of concentration on her face. It was pretty obvious that's what the book was, by the overly large and decorative Delta Delta Psi letters on it. When she looked up, she wasn't particularly surprised to see me. Seth must have warned her I was here. Her lips twisted into an amused smile.

  I wasn't sure what was so funny.

  She patted the chair next to her. "Maddie! Come. Sit. I brought a show-and-tell!" Her voice was bright and way too sunny for first thing in the morning—even late morning, almost noon. She sounded absolutely delighted with herself.

  I cautiously took a chair next to her. "What do you have here?"

  "A secret." She held her finger to her mouth and glanced at the guys in the kitchen.

  A cup of coffee sat next to her. She took a sip. "I was looking for a surprise for my mom. Until I stumbled on something juicier." She sounded like a spy about to reveal a top-secret cipher or something.