Page 2 of Study Hard
I slow blinked at Jesse’s back, my mouth dropping open. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re just going to offer one tohim?”
Jesse didn’t turn around but stuck his middle finger up at me. “He never asks.” Damn right he didn’t.
Eric leaned against the counter, a smug smile spreading over his lips as he watched me. Fucking warlock. Witch. Whatever. I swear he could just stand on a corner and someone would hand him a million dollars.Because he never asks. I rolled my eyes at him, and he chuckled. “You’re sexy when you’re jealous.”
“Fuck off.” I attempted to ignore how the dangerous cocktail of his gaze and the wordsexyapplied in any fashion to me made my cock stir.
“Don’t start sweet-talking me in the middle of the kitchen.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth, raking his gaze over me, and that little flame I’d been doing so well to ignore flared up like Eric had doused it in lighter fluid and thrown wads of old newsprint on top.
“I swear to fuck if y’all start going at it right now, I will beat both of you with this goddamn frying pan.” Jesse smacked his spatula threateningly against the top of a sandwich for emphasis. “And I know you’re already eye fucking behind my back, so you can quit that, too.”
Eric threw his head back and laughed, and I joined in because it was true. Our gazes had been locked during the whole exchange, a wordless conversation passing between us that mostly consisted of innuendo and filthy promises. I made a show of adjusting myself, then kicked my shoes off and peeled off my socks, stuffing them in my gym bag.
Once Jesse finished the sandwiches, we ate them at the table, Eric leaning against the counter nearby as we bitched about our upcoming exams and the fact that our other roommate Ansel seemed to have been swallowed by the library and was late on rent. Eric, as usual, did the least amount of bitching because he was a nerd who got straight A’s without seeming to ever pick up a textbook. Actually, that wasn’t true. He studied frequently, and I’d even helped him prepare on occasion by quizzing him or going through practice exams with him, but I was pretty sure that in terms of raw intelligence, he was up there in the IQ department. I’d never known him to break a sweat over a final.
Jesse took his empty paper plate to the garbage can which, like the sink, was one lighting strike away from being animate at this point. “I’ll take this out, but can one of you please do the dishes?”
“I was gonna do them anyway, so sure.” I nodded. “Where’re you heading?”
“Study group for Belmont in the library. If I can manage a B, it’ll be a miracle.”
Eric’s gaze slid toward me, humor dancing within the depths of muddy green. We had shared history with the University’s library, complete with memories that occupied a healthy portion of my spank bank. There was no doubt in my mind he was thinking of the first time he’d pounded me against one of the shelves in the basement.
My shorts suddenly felt tighter over my crotch. I shifted in my seat trying to ease the pressure and after a beat, his focus veered back to Jesse.
“I think I have some old practice exams if you want them?” He offered, and Jesse shook his head with a grateful smile.
“It’s all right. We’ve got a bunch floating around in our group. But thanks. I’m outta here.” He glanced between us with a condemning squint. “And seriously, don’t fuck in the kitchen. Something might come up from the sink and take advantage of your vulnerable state, and I don’t want to get stuck cleaning up the leftover body parts, because fuck knows no one else will.” With a wave full of faux cheer, he headed out the door, trash bag in tow.
Eric pushed off the counter as the door banged shut and prowled toward me. I spread my knees, and when he stepped between them, laced my fingers behind his lower back and tipped my chin up, meeting his deep green gaze. A contented hum rumbled through him.
“So Ansel’s not here?” He glanced toward the doorway that led into the living room as if waiting for him to appear.
“Doesn’t appear to be, nope.”
“You have a final in Comparative Government day after tomorrow, right?”
“Mm.” I grunted the confirmation, trying not to get distracted by dampness of his shirt and the warmth of his skin beneath my hands. Or the growing bulge behind the fly of his shorts. “And I have to get on it hard-core tonight. It’s gonna be a tough one.”
“Get on it hard-core? You’re speaking my language. Can I help?” He lifted one brow salaciously, and I dug my fingers into his lower back until he arched subtly into my grip.
“Probably not. Only if you mean help me procrastinate for fifteen minutes. But no, I need to do really well on this one, and you’re nothing but a distraction. In fact, you probably need to back up right now. I’m losing brain cells by the second. Can’t think straight.”
Eric flashed his teeth. “If you could think straight, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. So you can understand if I’m not a big fan of you thinking straight.”
I grinned and shoved him away, then picked up my paper plate and carried it with me over to the trash can. I could feel his eyes on me, tracking my progress, most likely homing in on my ass. Didn’t mind that one bit. I worked the muscles hard, and these days partially just so Eric could admire them as he spread me open. I was just as much a glutton for it as he was.
“Seriously, I can help you. I’ve done it before, haven’t I?” I knew exactly the time he was referring to, and heat crawled up my spine and flushed my cheeks as I placed a new bag in the bin. “Didn’t you make an B+ on that exam?” The cajoling cadence of his voice begged me to meet his eyes.
I refused, inwardly pleased at my willpower, because Eric had a knack for wrecking it as easily as the Big Bad Wolf blowing down a straw house. “Yeah, but we actuallydidstudy that time before…well, you know.” I made a face because…what? I couldn’t talk about our first ever encounter now? It was a ridiculous and annoying fact that I still got shy sometimes out of the bedroom with Eric. But I could always count on him to fill in.
“Before your debonair roommate blew your mind.”
“Debonair?” I pulled a skeptical face.
“Debonair. Like charming.”
“I know what it means,” I scoffed. “It’s just not theDword I’d choose for you.”