Page 3 of The Girlfriend Agreement (Conwick U #1)

Mystery Man smiles into my neck, placing a sucking kiss on the dip at my collarbone, allowing a moment for me to adjust to the welcome invasion.

As soon as he’s fully seated, he looks at me, and I become aware of a question in the silence between us.

He wants my permission again—this time to start, to fuck me into oblivion—and I nod once more, all too happy to grant it.

With another kiss at the base of my throat, he lifts me up by my hips, pulling out just a little, and then thrusts back into me with enough force to make me cry out.

“Again,” I breathe, my tone pleading.

With a guttural growl, he loops one arm around my back, and flips me over onto the mattress so he’s kneeling between my open legs.

The sudden shift catches me off guard, but before I can process what’s happening, he pulls out in one smooth motion and peels off my panties with a swift tug, tossing them carelessly behind him.

Then, hooking one of my knees over his shoulder, he plunges into me again, deeper, harder —moving in an almost desperate rhythm that makes me tremble beneath him.

My gasp of shock quickly turns into a wail of pure bliss, my back arching as I grasp at the sheets.

His fingernails dig into my hip bones, holding me still as he drives into my core over and over again, his movements fast and unwavering, hitting all the right places.

I’m dizzy with desire, my arousal building, my whole body quivering as he guides me toward the edge.

“You feel amazing,” he says, one hand squeezing my breast, and the ego boost combined with the touch of his magic fingers is all it takes. When my orgasm hits, I scream so loudly I wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard me on the other side of campus.

Thankfully, I’m far too intoxicated to care, my focus centered on the shiver of pleasure rippling over my skin and on the wave of ecstasy I’m joyfully riding, like a high I never want to end. As it fades, I go limp in my rich stranger’s arms, and after a few more pumps, he, too, reaches the brink.

“Fuck,” he snarls, clamping those dark eyes shut. He then drops his face into the crook of my neck as his hips shudder, convulsing once…twice…three times against mine.

Fuck, indeed. Exhausted and sated, I melt into a puddle on the bedspread beneath me, more content than I’ve felt in a really long time. Or at least since January, which was when I last had sex. Was it only eight months ago? It feels more like years. God, I needed this.

Neither one of us says another word as he pulls out—disentangling himself from my jelly-like limbs—discards the condom, and then flops onto the pillow beside me, exhaling a heavy but satisfied breath.

I consider getting up and removing myself from the room for all of five seconds, then decide I’m too drunk (and definitely way too blind) to entertain the notion of stumbling home at this hour, even if it means doing the walk of shame in the morning.

Deciding that’s Tomorrow Lexi’s problem, I let my eyes drift closed and fall into the sweet embrace of sleep…

Only a few minutes seem to pass before a buzzing against my thigh is wrenching my eyes open again. Light floods in through a window to my right, and I wince as my head throbs relentlessly, each beat of pain keeping in perfect time with my pulse.

Pushing a tangled mess of hair off my face, I press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, and reach for my phone, tugging it free from the hidden pocket Andie (using her superhuman sewing skills) graciously sewn into my skirt, which now sits crooked on my waist. I blink the sleep from my eyes to find Ronnie’s name flashing almost aggressively across the screen.

I swipe to answer and bring the device to my ear.

“Hello?” I barely recognize my voice when I speak. My throat is raw and dry, as if I’ve been gargling sand…or a whole lot of dick. My memory of last night is so spotty, it honestly could be either.

“Lex?” I yank the phone away from my face, flinching at the high-pitched screech emitting from my best friend that seems intense enough to crack glass. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling you for hours.”

“Sorry.” A yawn swells in my chest before I can get the full word out. “I was sleeping. What time is it?”

“Nearly ten,” she answers, her tone scolding. “Where’d you run off to last night? I would’ve sworn I saw you disappear with Damian Navarro, but I know you would sooner huff glue than go anywhere with that unapologetic bag of dicks.”

All the blood drains from my face as I’m struck by a chill and a sense of bone-deep dread.

For the first time since waking, I take stock of my surroundings, finally seeing them a bit more clearly without the bleariness of alcohol adding an extra layer of obscurity to my vision and severely impacting my judgment.

It takes Ronnie repeating my name several times for me to snap out of my stupor and grasp what in the drunken hell I’ve done.

Bracing myself, I roll over and risk a reluctant glance at the now slightly less blurry face of my one-night stand, praying to any god that will listen that it be anyone but him… before realizing almost immediately that there is no god. Or at least none who are on Team Lexi.

“Fuck my life,” I breathe into the phone as I stare in horror at the fuckboy who ruined my freshman year where he sleeps soundly beside me.