Page 43 of Reckless Hearts

I’ve been practicing. You want to give me a practical exam later?

I love a dedicated student. My place at 8?

Sounds great.

Hoping it will feel great too

I’m pretty sure it’s going to feel spectacular.

Spectacular. It’s such a Seb word. I can’t imagine any other eighteen-year-old texting that word to the guy he’s hooking up with.

But I can’t deny Seb is right. The sex between us continues to blow my mind. I don’t quite understand the source of the chemistry between Seb and me. Why is everything with him so much hotter than it is with other guys?

I should get back to studying, but instead, I find myself picking up my phone to message him again.

How’s your study going?

I’m studying for my animal behavior paper. Did you know dolphins have names for each other?

Aren’t they all just called Flipper?

Lol.

And crows hold grudges and can remember human faces for years.

Note to self: always be nice to crows

Seb continues to tell me fun facts about animal behaviors, so I learn all about how squirrels fake-bury their nuts to fool potential thieves and how humpback whales have been observed protecting other species from orca attacks.

It’s not until he’s telling me about how male nursery web spiders offer gifts to potential mates to avoid being eaten—which produces the next round of dodgy innuendos between us about how being eaten wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, depending on what body parts are consumed first—that I suddenly realize I’ve been messaging Seb for half an hour.

This still counts as logistics to arrange getting together, right? I mean, that’s where the conversation started. I think my argument would stand up in court.

However, as I gather my books and study notes, I can’t help wondering if the only person I’m fooling is myself.

My pulse speedsup when I hear the knock on my door. I have to force myself to slow down as I walk to open the door.

Seb stands on my doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair is slightly mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Because it’s one of those random warm Dunedin days often scattered through October, offering hints at a summer that never quite eventuates, he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that proclaims,Never trust an atom. They make up everything.

He gives me that shy smile of his. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” I step back to let him inside my flat.

Then, as soon as the door is firmly shut behind him, we’re kissing.

Something about kissing Seb revs my engine more than kissing any other guy has.

Is it the forbidden nature?

Marcus likes to live on the edge. Marcus likes to self-destruct. Marcus likes to play with fire around the one friendship that matters to him.

But I’m aware there’s something more going on underneath it than that.

It’s the thing that makes me linger in bed with Seb even after we’ve both come, the thing that makes me talk to him differently than I’ve talked with other guys I’ve gotten off with.

Maybe it’s because of my friendship with his sister? He knows me outside of getting off together, which makes it easier to talk to him.

Which is why tonight, after the kissing leads us stumbling into my pokey bedroom where I get to catalog every one of Seb’s moans and shudders, I find myself tucking him into me, his head on my chest, as I trace circles on his skin.