Page 25 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Cillian

I ’ve made a lot of stupid decisions in the last few years. More than I can even count at this point. Probably has a lot to do with the amount of hits I’ve taken to the head since I was a kid.

But this ?

It might just be the most stupid of them all.

Bloody hell, I know better. I fucking know , and still I can’t stop.

I don’t want to stop.

I want to give in, fucking finally, and have my fill of the girl who’s been plaguing my dreams every night.

My gaze slides over Rory, drinking in her still-wet hair, which is hanging around her shoulders after her shower, to the baggy maroon sweatshirt she has on and down to those tiny fucking shorts I’m convinced she wears just to torture me, all the way to the expanse of creamy, silky skin of her bare thighs.

I’m fucked.

Why?

Because I want Rory St. James. Preferably on her knees while those plump pink lips circle my cock, my hands fisted in her hair as she takes me down her throat.

Or spread out on this couch, dark hair haloed around her while I drag my tongue up her soaked cunt until she comes, coating my face.

Or even on her knees while I take her from behind, fucking her so goddamn deep that I can see the imprint of my cock in her stomach.

And I know wanting her, wanting all those things, is going to complicate everything.

I’m beyond bloody aware of that.

Only it doesn’t seem to change the fact that the second I’m around her, I want to touch her. Kiss her. Taste her. Do everything that I’ve been thinking about for the past week without coming up for air.

Just like I almost did two nights ago when I had to play my feelings off like it was a fucking test and not me being weak and almost giving in to this insane need.

Fake date or not… it was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. It was fun being with her, and it would’ve been the perfect end to a perfect night if I just could’ve bloody kissed her as badly as I wanted to.

It feels like Rory is the only person who sees me just as clearly as I see her. She doesn’t judge my past or throw it in my face. She doesn’t make me feel like I’ll only ever be the reputation that I’m desperately trying to leave behind.

“Okay, sooo, what are we starting with?” She huffs as she flops down beside me onto the couch, crossing her legs and resting the bowl of popcorn in her lap. “Something juicy?”

I clear my throat like I wasn’t just having a fucking daydream about having her beneath me and pull my phone out of the pocket of my sweatpants. I find Aisling’s message with the list of romance movies.

Never in my life did I think I’d be watching one by choice, but Rory thought it would be good for her to watch and learn—see people falling in love. In lust. In action. What better than a romance?

Even if it’s just a movie.

“I’ve got no clue what any of these are, so I guess we’ll just go with the first one,” I say as I lock my phone and set it down on the couch beside me.

“Perfect. Popcorn?” She extends the bowl toward me.

I shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

What I really want to say is I’m having a hard time focusing now that she’s sitting so close and I can smell the sweet floral scent of her bodywash, and it makes my dick ache.

Clearly, there’s a pattern here.

But I don’t, and I keep my gaze glued to the tube, feigning interest in the bloody rom-com because the alternative isn’t happening.

The story isn’t bad, and the acting is decent enough that I somehow end up slightly interested in what’s going to happen.

When the couple on the screen collides in a frantic, desperate kind of kiss, I feel Rory shifting on the cushion beside me, a few breathy sighs tumbling from her lips as the scene progresses.

The heat of her bare skin blazing through my joggers, making my body run hot.

“I’ve been thinking… What happens if I ever make it past the flirting? Uh… the other night, you pretending you wanted to kiss me, it made me think about the after ,” she murmurs, and I whip my head to the side to look at her.

Her lips are parted, the tip of her finger tracing her bottom lip as she tears her gaze from the TV and looks at me. My eyes drop to the pattern her finger traces on her plump lip, unable to stop myself before raising them to meet her gaze. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I mean, I’m practicing to be better at flirting and getting out of the friend zone, but what happens when I actually make it past that? How am I going to, you know… be great at kissing, or any of the stuff that comes once I actually get a guy?”

Before I can even respond, she’s turning, angling her body toward me and capturing her lip between her teeth.

There’s a nervous edge to her words. “I’ve only had one sloppy, drunken hookup in high school that was absolutely the biggest letdown of my life, and so I’m just saying…

I don’t have much to go on. If my previous experience was anything to judge by. ”

“You just kind of know what to do, St. James. There’s not a manual or a class to take on how to kiss properly,” I say with a slight hitch of my shoulder at the same time I reach up and rub my palm across my mouth.

For fuck’s sake, hearing her admit all this is doing nothing for my desire to touch her.

“It’s the kind of thing you have to be in the moment for, letting instinct take over. ”

A shuddering exhale slips past her lips, then she looks back at the TV, watching the couple on the screen make a go of it. The bloke has the female love interest pressed against the shower wall as he fucks her, tracing his tongue along her neck while she whimpers and writhes against the tile.

When I glance back at Rory, her cheeks are stained bright pink, and her lips are parted as she watches. She’s completely flushed.

“I just… I want that ,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off the screen. “All of it. I want to get my brains fucked out against a shower wall while a guy looks at me just like that. Like I’m the hottest thing he’s ever freaking seen.”

Fucking hell.

I wet my lips, then I force down a swallow, nearly bloody sweating at her statement. My hands tighten into fists at my sides with the overwhelming need to reach for her.

To give her exactly what she wants.

She turns to look at me, and those rich chocolate eyes are molten, burning hotter than I’ve ever seen them before. “I think maybe that’s what I need to do. You know just… practice”—her gaze flicks to the TV for a beat, then back—“ that .”

“Then… practice with me .” The words come flying out of my mouth before I can even bloody think about exactly what I’m offering.

I’m out of my goddamn mind, and I should get the fuck up and walk away right now, if I knew what was good for me.

But fucking hell, I want to kiss her.

Until her lips are swollen and bruised. Until she’s squirming beneath me, pressing her thighs together and begging me to touch her.

I need to kiss her. I’m so bloody fucking tired of denying it.

I watch her throat bob, her gaze never moving from mine as she nods, her shoulder dipping. “Yeah, totally. I mean, that would be the easy thing to do, right? You’re already teaching me, and it would prepare me for when the time comes.”

I don’t even want to fucking think about her kissing someone else. Fuck that.

My chin lifts anyway, saying nothing as I let my gaze drop to her parted lips, lingering there.

I’ve never seen prettier lips in my life.

“I can teach you whatever you want to learn, St. James.”

When she licks her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet them before sinking her teeth into her lower lip, it’s like something snaps within me, and I’m closing the distance between us. She leans forward at the same time, making us collide.

My lips slam against hers and she whimpers, the sweetest fucking sound that’s a mixture of surprise and need, and I decide I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to hear it again.

Over and over.

I don’t give myself the chance to second-guess the decision, or to worry about what the consequences may be.

Fuck it. Fuck the consequences. Fuck anything besides this. Right now.

My hands slide into her still-damp hair, curving around her nape as I tug her closer, angling her mouth to deepen the kiss when she scrambles into my lap, thighs fitted around each side of my hips.

Her lips part, and my tongue sweeps inside as her hands snake around my neck, tugging roughly at my hair.

The needy little sounds she makes shoot straight to my cock, making me so bloody hard it aches.

Christ, when’s the last time I was so turned on by a fucking kiss ?

I can’t recall a time when I was this keyed up over something so simple.

Yet with her… it doesn’t feel simple.

It feels like we’re teetering on the edge of something. Something bigger than either of us imagined.

Her hips roll over my erection, and I groan against her mouth, my teeth grazing her plump lip. I’m about to slip my hand beneath her shirt when my phone goes off in my pocket. The obnoxious ringtone makes my teeth grit.

“Fuck,” I mutter, tearing my lips from Rory’s. She hovers above me, staring down at me with blown pupils and swollen lips that send a surge of possessiveness coursing through me.

I did that.

For a moment we just stare at each other, a heated exchange of shared pants. We stay like that, savoring the seconds that seem to drag by.

She looks like she’s had the fuck kissed out of her, and if it wasn’t for my ringing phone, I would keep going until the rest of her was marked by my lips.

“It’s my sister. I’m sorry,” I say as I reach between us and fish my phone out of my pocket. I know who it is because no one else calls me. It’s not like I’ve made a bunch of friends since arriving at Prescott.

“No, of course.”

Rory’s lip curves into a shy smile, and I nod, swiping my finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Ais, everything good?”

My eyes remain on Rory still perched in my lap, and when she sits back on my thighs, brushing across my still hard, aching cock, I suck in a hiss.

“Sorry,” she mouths, wearing a grin that shows she’s not the least bit sorry for torturing me while I’m on the phone with my bloody sister.

I narrow my eyes at her.

Brat.

“Yes. I was just wondering if you could possibly pick up some migraine medicine? My head’s been pounding for hours, and I still have this physics essay to finish.”

I pull the phone back to glance at the time and see that it’s after midnight.

I wish she would stop staying up half the night to work on homework, but that’s Aisling. She’s terrified of falling behind or getting a bad mark in anything.

“Ais, it’s late. Shelf it till tomorrow, yeah? I’ll stop by the convenience store on my way home and grab something. Be there soon.”

She lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Kill. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When I press end and drop my phone next to me, Rory’s already sliding off my lap and back onto the space beside me on the couch.

“I guess you probably need to go?”

“Yeah, I need to get that medicine to her.” Even if there’s nothing I’d rather do than stay right here, I have responsibilities. Aisling needs me.

I stand from the couch and tuck my phone back into my pocket, watching as she stands and adjusts her slightly askew sweatshirt.

“I’ll text you?”

She nods, giving me a small smile. “Yeah, of course. I hope she feels better soon.”

I feel like an asshole for having to stop what just happened, intentional or not, but I think it was probably for the best.

I lost my head tonight, something I apparently tend to do when I’m around her.

It doesn’t feel like a mistake, but this can’t happen again.

No matter how much I want it to.