{18+ COLLEGE ROMANCE COMPLETED}
What sucks more than being rejected by the girl of your dreams? Finding out afterward that she's moving in with you.
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The night that Beau Martin spends with Collins Bryant is the best one of his life. He wants to...
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COLLINS AND I DIDN'T TALK much on the walk back to our apartment. Not because we didn't have anything to say. There was so much I could say, so much I wanted to. But if I had to guess, there was only one thing on both of our minds at the moment. Because the closer we got to home, the quicker Collins' pace became.
Ironically, she paused as soon as we entered through the front door, hesitant to make a move in any one direction.
Suddenly shy, baby girl? I think I can fix that.
I closed the door behind us and gave Collins a little pat on the ass to get her going and provide some reassurance.
"My bed." I began leisurely rolling my sleeves while my gaze roamed over her. "I'll be there in a second to take off that dress."
Collins started toward my room—but not without peeking over her shoulder at me. "You know...I can take off the dress myself, Beau."
"Not the fucking point," I said with a grunt.
I wanted to strip her and then love her and then fuck her until the neighbors hated us. And I had to do it all in an hour so we could still make an appearance at Julian's.
I heard Collins's breathy laugh before she disappeared, and I quickly began searching for the paintbrushes that she promised were here. It didn't take too long to locate them; Collins had an open package sitting next to her bed of what looked like brand new brushes. Grabbing a thin one, I went back to the kitchen to run it under the faucet and then flicked it against the side of the sink.
When I strode into my room with the paintbrush tucked behind my ear, I stopped in my tracks.
"What the hell—"
Collins sat on the bed, and the little tease that she was did not wait for me to take off her dress. Goddamn, I'd been looking forward to inching slowly underneath that filmy, black thing. But still, this was hard to complain about—no, this was just...hard.
This plus me equaled hard.
"You don't like it?"
Collins ran a finger playfully along the cup of her bra, drawing my attention straight to her tits.
"Like does not describe how I feel about it, no," I said dryly.
Collins was in a lacy lingerie set, and she had the sheer audacity to ask if I liked it?
"So..." Collins continued to draw a line with her finger, a line that rode bare skin and lace. "You more than like it, then? Or less?"
Mesmerized, I watched her slow movements. I wanted to put my mouth on every tiny bit of skin she was touching.
"More," I said, the word squeezing out of my throat. "I definitely more than like this."
Satisfied, Collins cocked her head. She leaned forward, making it a real battle to keep my eyes on her face. A losing battle. But fuck it. I was okay with not always being the winner. Really, I could cope with that. Especially if that meant I could get an eye-full.
