Page 33 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

It was either this or stare at the painting in Professor Cruz’s office. Maybe that would have been a better idea. I fight the feeling that my presence is unwelcome and that I roused him from his sleep.

“Me neither,” he says with a sleepy smile. “Do you want to come in?”

“I—I shouldn’t.”

What had I come here for, then? I wasn’t expecting to see him like this, and I don’t want to interrupt his sleep. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself now? My pulse races, and I turn away, prepared to go to my room and shut off my mind.

At least I can try. Sleeping in this new condition will be harder. The hammering of my heart has me feeling wide awake.

I don’t make it a step away before he grabs my wrist with a tender touch. He always holds his strength back for me.

“You don’t have to go,” he says, pulling me toward him. A breathy chuckle falls from his lips.

He pulls me against his chest, and all I can do is gape at him.

Heat radiates between our bodies, with only the thin fabric of my tank top keeping our chests from touching. My lips part.

I’m supposed to say something, but I can’t. My words get lost in the depths of his eyes. His expression melts as the seconds tick by, and before I can process it, he’s leaning in.

“I shouldn’t stay,” I whisper again, my eyelids fluttering.

“Why not?” He loosens the grip on my wrist, setting me free. He’s close enough that we share breath.

I can move, but I don’t, my chest flush against his.

If there was an excuse, I lose it. My restraint is gone. My thoughts, my morals, my fears—it’s all gone .

I’m the one to bridge the space, pressing my lips to his with fervent need. Drinking him up may be the only thing to keep my mind from wandering to the horrors and?—

He devours me, too, needing me in the same way.

With a hand on my back, he guides me into the room without breaking the kiss. The door shuts behind us, and we don’t part, not even for breath, inhaling ragged air between each soft touch of our lips.

“Your clothes,” he says mindlessly as if remembering how close to naked he is.

I couldn’t forget. He doesn’t hide himself from me, his hips slotted against mine, allowing me to feel his hardened length pressing against my thigh.

His fingers are graceful and gentle, breaking the kiss long enough to pull my tank top over my head.

My hand moves to graze over his bulge. He holds my wrist once more, his fingers tight this time. The reminder of his strength makes me pulse between my thighs.

“Do you not remember what I said last time?” he asks.

“Um… no…” My thoughts are far too slow, the words coming out languid, perplexed.

“I said, I’ll give it to you once you beg. Not before then.”

Understanding flashes across my features, and I flush, red splattering on my cheeks.

“God…” I whisper.

There’s already heat between my legs.

“I am a man of my word,” he says, fingers tangling in my hair. He pushes me against the door, his hips keeping me in place. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll draw it out of you. I have ways to make you plead for me.”

I can’t imagine what he means—until he’s dropping to his knees, pulling down my sleep shorts in a single swoop.

He looks up at me from his spot on the floor. Electricity runs through my body as his eyes wander over me.

“You have always wanted to devour me, haven’t you?” I smile at the words and the double meaning behind them.

He takes my leg, hitching it over his shoulder.

“I have.” His head turns to press soft kisses against my thigh. “I didn’t get a chance to last time.”

“I could tell you wanted to,” I say. My nervous habit of speaking too much comes into play, and I desperately wish it would stop, but it won’t. The words fall from me without meaning to, anticipation clenching in the pit of my stomach.

“Even before last time,” I say. “The minute you looked at me, I thought?—"

He bites my thigh, and I moan. My back presses against the cool wooden door, leaning onto it for support.

“I thought you were a vampire, that you wanted to drink me, and… I don’t know… devour my soul. But it wasn’t like that. Was it?”

His eyes crinkle with amusement, a look I’ve come to know well. If he has a response, I never hear it.

His mouth presses to my core as an answer instead, and he does devour me, lapping up the evidence of my arousal as if it’s holy nectar. He moans and hums, drinking me up with greed.

My eyes widen and then soften, finally losing my words to pleasure. I lose track of how long he stays there, tongue gliding over me, drinking me the way his eyes promised to the first day we met.

My fingers curl into his hair. I’m moments from release when he pulls away. He takes my hand in his, unfurling it. His lips are shining and parted, soft pants falling from them as he rises.

My face is contorted and confused when his alert gaze meets my darkened eyes. I am drunk and dizzy with lust. He pins my wrist over my head. His forehead presses against mine.

“Did you think I would give up so easily?” he croons, kissing my lips with a tenderness that contrasts the strong grip on my wrist.

“I had hoped.” I’m empty, clenching around nothing, my hips rocking into his with desperation.

“You know what you need to do,” he murmurs, trailing wet kisses down my jaw.

His fingers slip between my legs, teasing me in small circles—but never long enough.

“Please.” My voice shakes.

He shudders, fingers pressing harder against me. “Please, what?”

“Fuck me!” My voice rises with desperation, whimpering the words out. “Please, fuck me. Devour me. Do something. Anything. Please.”

He grunts, rocking his hips into mine, his fingers still moving against me. “I thought you would never ask.”

“Please,” I repeat, whining embarrassingly loud.

I don’t need to continue begging, but I do. The word falls from my lips on repeat. It may be our only night together, and I want him to know how much I need him.

His touch leaves, releasing my wrist, his hands finding my hips. In a swift motion, he turns me around and pushes his boxers to the floor. I arch my back, waiting to feel him.

“I knew you would be good for me,” he whispers, his breath against my cheek as he settles behind me. His length presses against my entrance.

My mouth parts, releasing a desperate moan without a care.

He is all I can think of, all I can focus on, all I need.

“Please.” It’s the only word my mouth can form.

The rest of my vocabulary is gone, replaced with a desire for him.

Caldwell pets my hair in soft motions as he finally pushes into me, groaning into my ear. He takes me slowly, and I clench around him, desperate for more.

His hand slides to my front, rolling and pressing against my clit as he thrusts into me. Pressure builds in my body, our words melting away as, at last, he claims me as his.