Page 38 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter thirty-seven

Quinn

When we step outside, the cooler air hits me, and I can’t help but shiver. The weather’s shifted over the last few weeks, and it’s clear that fall is in full swing. I’m just starting to feel the chill when Miles reaches behind his neck, whipping off his hoodie and draping it over my shoulders.

“Thanks, I forgot mine, or maybe Indie stole it,” I say with a smirk.

“Keep it,” he replies, like it’s nothing. “I like you in my clothes.” Even though it’s not one of his hoodies with his number on it—that only comes out for special occasions—it’s a CLU warmup hoodie, and I think I might just keep it.

I grin at him, boldly taking his hand and pulling him toward the studio where we usually have our yoga class, praying I’m doing the right thing. This place always helps me relax, so hopefully it’ll do the same for him.

When we get there, the place is completely empty, the usual scent of lavender and jasmine lingering in the space. The room is bright, but the privacy blinds are activated over the glass windows framing the back wall, looking out over the lakes.

But the best part: No students, no teacher. Just us.

“Are we early?” Miles asks, checking his watch, but I know we’re right on time.

“Nope, class got canceled today. The teacher’s sick. But since the space was free, I thought we could still use it.” That, and I texted the teacher when we were getting dressed and she said it’s okay.

I walk over to the mirrors and set down my gym bag, then plug my phone into the sound system. As the sound of rain starts filling the room, I quickly gather my hair into a ponytail, adding my bow, a light blue one today. I feel Miles’s eyes on me as I slip off his hoodie, leaving me in just my tank top and yoga pants.

I turn to face him, suddenly feeling more naked than we were last night. I know he’s seen me like this a thousand times—cheering, working out—but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at me now. Like he’s seeing me all over again.

Grabbing a yoga mat, I toss it on the floor, then do the same for him.

He slowly drops his big body to the floor as I cross my legs and take a breath. “I need to re-center for a beat. Hope you don’t mind a little meditation?”

“I don’t mind,” he says cautiously, closing his eyes and crossing his legs.

We sit there for a few minutes, just breathing in and out, slow and steady. I can feel every muscle in my body starting to relax. When we’re done, I catch his eye in the mirror and smile. And when he smiles back, my heart skips a beat.

“So how are you planning on torturing my body today?” he asks, that hint of playfulness sneaking into his voice again.

“I’d never torture you…” I smirk when he narrows his eyes. “But I do have an idea.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, echoing what he said last night, and my body responds by catching fire and feelings. All those big damn feelings rise right to the apples of my cheeks, showing him how he affects me before I get the chance to say a thing.

Watching him settle his body backward to lean on his hands, his biceps bulging from the movement. My mouth waters as I rake down the rest of his lean, toned body that I know is under his clothes. And then I quickly look away because I shouldn’t be ogling him when he needs a distraction.

I focus on the yoga pose I’d saved for us to try next week. It looks easy, but then I’ve seen couples try yoga poses online before and how easily it can fail. Or be the most hilarious thing you’ll see on the internet.

Tilting my head, I double check the pose. “Okay, so basically you need to do a reverse plank.”

He frowns at me. “Coach only makes us plank when we’re in trouble.”

“Then consider this part of your strength training.”

He huffs but complies.

Once he’s in the right position, hips facing the ceiling, not a shaky muscle in sight, I shimmy down to the ground to sit in between his open legs. Right, this is a great idea, Quinn, take the guy you’re desperately in love with and contort your bodies into various positions for fun. Why am I the way I am?

“I think you might need to get closer. Those little legs won’t reach my shoulders.”

“Little but mighty, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, I know. I watch them enough.”

As if he just turned up my personal thermostat again, I get hotter. I swear my palms are too sweaty to do this now, and I have regret, so much regret. But I can’t back out, not with him cracking jokes and being all flirty. This is what I wanted, him out of his head. “You’re distracting me.”

“Likewise,” he says, tilting his head to the side with a swipe of his tongue over his lips. Dear god, I am sweating.

Ignoring my raging hormones and their ability to control my libido, I move closer to him, planting my hands on the outsides of his legs, and without much finesse, sit on his lap for a second while his hips float, effortlessly still, in the air. “Sorry,” I mutter, trying not to wiggle, knowing how close I am to his dick.

“Don’t be.”

I walk my feet up his body, keeping my hands on the floor until I’m stretched out over him. My ankles barely make it to his pecs, and when he looks down, he chuckles, and that is the only movement his muscles make the whole time. Damn these football players.

Once we both settle in our reverse planks on top of one another, I’m very aware of how small my arms are compared to the height he has off the ground, it makes everything closer. My butt to his crotch, if we’re being specific. The diagram showed two people of similar height, and I didn’t take into account that Miles has a lot of inches on me.

“Now what do we do?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement that pulses through my body. I can feel every subtle movement of his chest as he breathes, his legs shifting slightly beneath mine.

“We…breathe. Relax,” I manage to reply, though the last thing I’m feeling is relaxed. My mind is racing, trying to keep the rising heat in my body at bay. Don’t think about sex right now . I mentally repeat the mantra, but it’s getting harder with every passing second. The closeness, the heat radiating from him, the way his hips rise slightly with each inhale—it’s all too much, too intense.

“So, to be clear,” he says, his tone dripping with playful mischief, “I shouldn’t do this?”

Before I can even process his words, he moves. His hips tilt up, and with a smooth, controlled thrust, he disarms me completely. My balance is gone in an instant, and I gasp as his strong arms wrap around my body, pulling me upright. In one fluid motion, I’m sitting in his lap, his chest flush with mine, his breath warm against my neck.

It takes me a second to find my bearings again before I look down into his eyes. “That’s one way to get a girl’s attention,” I say, breathing heavily against him.

He chuckles, and the sound rumbles through his chest. “Didn’t expect that to actually work. We could’ve both ended up on the floor.”

My hands naturally move to his shoulders and interlace behind his neck. “Risky move, considering you’ve got to catch a ball this weekend,” I remind him, trying to keep my thoughts on track.

He runs his nose along the side of mine in a gesture that sets all those lustful thoughts free again like butterflies taking flight. “Hmm,” he hums low, tempting and devious.

His hands wander along my back, rubbing small circles as he drifts over my bare skin across my middle and up until his fingertips graze the edge of my crop top, letting me almost feel his touch but not quite.

My breath catches in my throat, skin tingling under the ghost of his fingers. Pausing, his hand rests lightly just below the fabric, and I can feel the warmth of his palm radiating through the thin material. My body arches, instinctively seeking more of his touch, but he keeps his movements deliberate, slow, as if he has all the time in the world.

His other hand trails down my side, tracing the curve of my waist with the same agonizingly gentle pressure. The contrast between his firm grip and the soft brush of his fingertips is intoxicating, sending shivers down my spine. He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “Do you want me to stop?”

The question hangs in the sliver of space between us. Every nerve in my body is on high alert, every sense tuned into him, and I can hardly think straight, let alone form a coherent response. But I don't need to; my body answers for me, leaning into his touch, a silent plea for more.

A low chuckle escapes his lips, and I can feel the vibration of it against my skin. His fingers slip under the hem of my crop top, barely grazing the sensitive skin under my breasts. The sensation is electric, and a jolt of white-hot heat skates down to my core, making me gasp. He isn’t fazed, though; he takes his time, savoring each inch as he slowly pushes the fabric higher, his touch igniting a fire beneath my skin until he brushes his finger over my nipple.

“Miles.” I’m panting, not sure if I’m pulling him closer or pushing him away. “We definitely shouldn’t,” I say with absolutely no conviction as I take his top off in one swift move.

“Yeah, you’re right, we shouldn’t,” he replies, kissing the slope of my neck, nipping my collarbone, his hand returning under my top. “But here’s another idea… What if we did?”

Somewhere in the distant part of my mind, there’s an alarm bell going off. I’m sure it’s trying to tell me something, but with Miles’s mouth marking my skin and his hands trailing all over me, I can’t seem to care. In fact, I really don’t care. So instead, I lean in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that’s far more of an answer than any words could be.

He groans, a low, satisfied sound that buries itself inside my body, and suddenly, we’re both moving, grinding and pawing at anything we can touch. Deepening the kiss as if he’s just as desperate to erase whatever space still lingers between us, I let him take control.

The alarm bells in my mind have gone quiet now, drowned out by the rapid beat of my heart and the overwhelming heat of his touch. This is reckless, stupid even. But it feels inevitable. Right now, the only thing I want is him inside me.

He pulls back, just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and intense, searching my face for something. “Tell me to stop. If you don’t want to do this here, tell me now,” he says, breathless, but I can see in his eyes that he’s hoping I won’t. “Because I think you’ve given me a new kink. Almost getting caught with you turns me the fuck on.”

I don’t say no because I want him and I’m all in with this. Instead, I grab behind his head and pull him back to me, crashing our lips together in a kiss that’s all fire and need. He responds instantly, any hesitation gone as he presses me harder against his length. I need our clothes off, I need him. “Miles,” I mumble against his mouth.

“Yeah, Queenie?”

“I need more.”

His hands stop their roaming as he swallows deeply, staring into my eyes. “I can do that. Take off your pants. Leave your underwear on.”

I oblige, standing quickly to peel them off my legs, my eyes never leaving his as he removes his shorts and takes himself out of his boxers, running his hand down his shaft once with a hiss. He reaches behind him, getting his wallet from his shorts and finding a condom, covering himself, all the while I stand in front of the boy I love, about to have sex in the middle of the yoga studio. Who on earth am I?

“Queenie, baby, come here,” he says, snapping my attention back to him and his gloriously naked body. The use of baby with my nickname has my knees almost buckling as I sink back onto his lap, my center grazing against his covered dick. “God, you’re amazing,” he murmurs as his gaze dances all over me, pulling me against his warm body. The words send a thrill rippling through me, and I grip his shoulders, needing to feel him closer.

His fingers slip underneath the fabric of my sports bra that I’d forgotten to remove. “I need this off too,” he says, then pulls it over my head.

As soon as our eyes lock again, I lift up and blindly reach beneath me until I find him right there. He lifts me higher, one hand strong under my thigh, as the other digs into the skin of my opposite hip. I pin my legs closer to him, anchoring myself as I feel him there, as he shifts my lace thong to one side, then I sink down in a move that makes the air evaporate around us. There’s a wildness in his eyes, a barely contained storm that’s mirrored in the pounding of my own heart.

“Fuuuuck,” he whispers, his fingers digging into my hips.

I lift up again to sink down, and the burn from him being at a different angle sends my nerve endings into a spin. I’m trembling, my pulse racing, every thought I had before now completely drowned out by the sheer intensity of being with him again.

His hand moves to my clit, pushing against my aching core, giving me the pressure I crave. I can’t escape the moans that he draws from my lips as he pushes up into me while touching me, making me come undone. “You’re incredible.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s on the edge of control. His words send a shiver along my limbs, and I reach down, pulling him back to me, needing to feel him close, to erase the space between us.

We move together, the rhythm building, growing at a speed I can barely keep up with. There’s nothing left but the way he makes me feel like I’m falling apart and being put back together all at once. “Miles, I-I…” I pant, desperate to catch my breath, but unable to stop. I trail off as everything snaps in a burst of pleasure, exploding over my entire body like a tidal wave.

I collapse into him as he thrusts twice more, then deftly lifts me up to my knees, pulling out of me. His hands encase my face as he holds my gaze. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, feeling hazy from my orgasm.

Shuffling behind me, his movements deliberate, as his hand trails down the length of my spine, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake. My breath hitches as he gently pushes me forward, guiding me into position.

“Hands flat on the mat, Queenie,” he instructs, his voice low and firm, with a commanding edge that renews my desire tenfold.

I lower myself, pressing my palms against the cool surface of the mat, feeling the tremors still echoing in my body. His hands ghost over my hips, as I hear a muttered curse, then feel his fingers slip into the sides of my panties. The lace flutters down my skin, as he drags them over my ass and lets them pool at my bent knees with a satisfied growl.

He shifts his weight, and I can feel his presence behind me. Desire pulses like a flashing beacon inside my belly, desperate for him to touch me and take me over the edge again. Then I feel it, the tip of his cock nudging against me, just before he hesitates right there. “You know I’m not made of glass, Miles. You can do what you want with me.”

“And what is that?”

“You tell me. Or better yet, show me.”

This time, he doesn’t hold back. He plunges in deeply, making me gasp as the air rushes from my lungs. His hand glides over the curve of my ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Everything feels so much more like this, exposed, vulnerable, but I also feel safe with him. When he pulls out and pushes back in slowly, the sound of him losing his control has my body responding instinctively, adjusting to his movements as if guided by an invisible thread.

I sink into him, letting all the sensations rush through my body. Not a care in the world that someone, anyone, could walk past because I’m wrapped up in him, losing every single ounce of restraint for this boy.

Then I feel his hand snake between my legs, pressing against my clit again, working me up higher and higher. “Miles, I can’t—” I moan, unsure if I can get there again. This is new to me, all of this pleasure so intensely woven together, and I’m overwhelmed.

“You can, baby,” he growls behind me, grounding me with one hand between my legs, and one hand firmly kneading my ass. He thrusts over and over, his fingers working in time, and the flutter begins low in my belly. “That’s it, give me another one. Squeeze this pussy around me. Let me feel it.”

“I-I…” I whimper, unable to cope with everything. The feel of him inside me, our skin slapping in the empty room, his scent all over me. It’s too much, and I fall over the edge once again, crying out my release. “Oh my god…” He loosens his grip on my ass, smoothing the skin rhythmically now.

“Still trust me, Queenie?” he pants, his voice hoarse.

“Always,” I whisper.

I feel his hips stutter behind me as my body tries to clench around him. Then, in an instant, he pulls out. I hear the snap of rubber and the bristle of his hand against skin, pumping just before he groans, guttural and deep as a warmth explodes onto my back, marking me with his release.

I shift slightly, trying to get a better glimpse of him. His chest heaves as he focuses on my back, eyes glinting with a wild expression that makes me silently whimper.

“Fuck, you look pretty like this, ass up and covered in me.” He makes a noise so deep and masculine, I think I melt a little. “I need this image as my screensaver.”

“Miles!” I chastise weakly, still reeling.

“I’m joking.” He chuckles. “There’s no way I’d let anyone else see you like this. This is all for me.”

All for me. The words are stuck on a loop in my head. Does that make me his? He’s told me he’s mine twice now. Is this his way of showing me too? The thought feels like a branding burn on my heart.

As I feel the liquid starting to shift, my back arches slightly. “Don’t move, I’ve got you.” He places a hand on my hip, grounding me.

I feel him wipe my back with a soft cotton material, and it’s not until I look over my shoulder that I see he’s used his underwear to clean me. “I promise we can shower when we get back to my dorm,” he whispers into my ear as he pulls me back against his body.

His breath on my neck and the softness of his touch makes me hope like all heck he's claiming me as his own, just as I've claimed him.