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I kept looking at him, giving him the space to continue, but when he didn’t, I leaned back against the shelf beside him.
Same thing.
“So …” I tried, “you’re going to be the manager of a restaurant conglomerate.”
He shrugged.
“You don’t seem too excited about it,” I pointed out.
“I don’t, huh?” was his only reply, and there was a slight edge to his voice. Sarcasm. It was the first time he had ever gone cold around me, and it took me aback. Time to change the subject.
“Anyway,” I said, turning to continue down the corridor of books. “Whoever sent that text told me to meet in the study room.”
Without a word, Felix followed me to the opposite side of the room, where it was harder for the light to reach. There were two doors, both with opaque glass windows. The one on the left was labeled the IT room, so I moved toward the door on the right, pausing just before pushing on the handle.
It was locked.
“Nice,” I muttered under my breath.
Turning back around, I ended up bumping into Felix. His hands rose up to steady me, or himself, rather. But instead of stepping aside, he held me there, and my eyes had no choice but to linger on his. In the dark, it took me a solid moment to realize how close he was to me, the tip of his nose hovering over my own, his breath floating over my cheeks, warm and reassuring. I didn’t have to see him to know he was there. I just had to feel him.
“Do you remember, back at Woodman,” he began, his voice soft, low, “how we used to meet up backstage in the auditorium? How the lights were out, and everything was quiet …”
His forearms were cradling mine, but now, slowly, his hands slid past my elbows so that they were holding my waist, as if we were about to sway into a ballroom waltz.
“And it was just me …” His lips brushed over my forehead, along my hairline. “… and you.”
He whispered the last word in my ear, lips tickling the curve skin. His body was pressed against mine now—we were one unit, breathing into each other, feeding the fire that was growing between us.
“Yeah,” I said dumbly, unable to think straight as Felix dipped his head along the side of my neck. Not kissing, just providing enough friction to send tingles down my spine.
“This reminds me of that place,” he replied, dragging his nose along the edge of my shoulder. “It reminds me of what we used to do.”
In secret, I finished silently, unable to get the words out as I lifted my chin to allow him to continue his search beneath my throat. Every second that passed made the air come harder out of my lungs, and at the same time, made me limp in his grasp. I was his, now. His breath felt hot blowing down my chest as his nose nuzzled the little crook right between my collarbone. His thick, silky voice curled around my head in a fog, just like his breath, just like his arms.
It reminds me of what we used to do.
What we used to do was anything but emotionally meaningful. It was a give and take sort of scenario—if I sucked his dick, he’d be pleasant toward me for about a week or so before morphing back into his old fucked-up self. I had never minded it, really. It was Felix Rosenberg, after all, not just any other boy.
But mostly, the things I had done were for self-preservation. To defend myself. To make it through another day.
And he had done it because he could.
“I disagree,” I murmured, just as his face came back to meet mine. “This is nothing like what we used to do.”
Before he could respond, I clamped my mouth over his, and immediately felt his tongue sliding against mine—warm, powerful, passionate. The smell of his cologne mingled with the scent of his shampoo, and together, the spiced, flowery scent was overwhelming, almost alcoholic.
All in one breath, I breathed him in, and in that one kiss, Felix had me pinned against the study room door, his hands caressing my neck, massaging beneath my ears as our heads bobbed back and forth in a steady rhythm. I could feel his heart beating against my own chest, humming through me like the reverberations of a bass guitar.
“You’re right,” he breathed, pulling back for a moment, just far enough away so that he could look me in the eyes. Even in the dark, I could tell his were burning. “This is nothing like it.”
Stepping back, he peeled my body away from the door, keeping me close as our lips connected once again. We stumbled backward, one slow step at a time, toward the shelves. Every rational molecule within me had gone, overcome by the power of his scent, and the wet contact of his tongue weaving around mine.
I just wanted him fuck me.
Needed him to.
This time, as soon as we neared the shelves, I wrapped one leg around his waist and pushed him up against one stack of books. The motion caused the shelf to shudder behind us, and Felix let out a quick curse before tugging me up against him. While one hand remained around the back of my head, I felt the other grasping my butt over the fabric of my pants, alternating between handling one cheek and the other.