"Please, come back to me."
"I never left."
***
Clara Carter, the troublemaker of Aerilon University. Someone who can make you fall for her looks and at the same time can make you reg...
"Goddamn it, Clara," he hisses, angry at himself for losing control. He tightens his grip on my face as he takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. I didn't doubt that he would be jealous, but I wasn't expecting such a hot kiss.
Not complaining, just saying.
He lets go of my wrists, pulls me onto him by my waist, and joins our lips once again in a wild and demanding kiss.
I can't express how much I missed his sinful lips. As I pull hard on his locks and wrap my one leg over his hip, all my want for his hands on my body comes out.
There's no clear significance to my actions these days, and I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing. It's just that I don't care anymore.
His firm grip on my waist softens, his hand gains support of the wall behind me to keep us stable.
The flutter intensifies in my stomach as my lip traps between his teeth. My heart pounds in my chest at a wild speed, begging for more of his delicious torture. The warmth of his lips bruises the silver lining of tenderness against mine.
A shiver moves through me. The roughness in his every stroke, the hot pressure of his breath still difficult for me to bear.
He slams both of us up against the wall. Heat and desire to rip his cloth off and feel those hard muscles of his abdomen rises inside of me.
He leans on me as we both try to create a rhythm that will please us both.
"Don't tempt me to take you out there with me and carry out your plan."
His voice is breathy and sensuous, and his eyes are overflowing with lust and jealousy. I can never forget those eyes.
"I won't."
I'm utterly hypnotized by his words.
He takes off his T-shirt, then rests his palm on my cheek. "Missed me?" he asks.
My hands yearn to trace his toned chest and abs, as well as his silver feather locket.
He is the perfect embodiment of my insanity.
"No," I answer as I undo the buttons on my jeans. When he notices my hand, his gaze shifts there. "I miss what you do to my body."
I can say whatever he wants me to say.
I crave his lips on mine, his hands on my body, and his whispering words; I've grown desperate for him to do those pleasurable things.
"So do I," he pulls me in, reclaiming my mouth. I become aware of my fingertips touching his chest; his flesh hot as mine. As his fingers advance towards my jeans, my gut twisted in knots. Volcanic waves flow between my thighs, I moan in his mouth, so turned on.
He was ready to pull my jeans down, but his phone had other plans.
He pulls away abruptly, a loud groan escaping his lips. A hard punch strikes next to my ear on the wall, shocking me.
I breathe a frustrated sigh. It's something or other that keeps him distracting us whenever we're up to no good.
He curses furiously and gets out his phone. His jaw clenches. As soon as he sees the caller ID, the urge to beat the crap out of the person interrupting fades into thin air.
He exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he presses the green button. Irritation is obvious on his face as he does not want to pick up the phone but must.
"Are you okay?" he says, softly closing his eyes.
I can't hear what the other person said, but the stressed expression on Stefan's face tells me that he sincerely wants to hear what the other person has to say.
"I see," he acknowledges. He slowly steps away from me, the veins on his forehead become more visible.
"It's okay, don't worry. I'll handle it. Just take care of yourself." he replies before he hangs up the phone.
He finds me staring at him but breaks no expression, maintains a stiff posture. "What happened?" I ask.
My voice trembles with real concern. I wasn't conscious of these feelings I am experiencing until I saw Stefan in such distress.
"None of your concern."
His lifeless statements have taken me aback. It makes me feel useless and rejected. What does he mean? That I'm not capable of learning anything about him?
Given that we aren't even officially together. I'm also not a close friend with whom he may easily talk. But I still expect him to tell me. I'd like him to tell me what's bothering him, and why he's suddenly become protective of someone on the phone.
It's impossible for me not to be interested in what he's up to.
"I mean, there's no need for you to be worried," he adds. Gentler than previously. I nod and put my hands on my hips.
I'm totally drawn out of my arousal and excitement at the anticipation of devouring him. And, by the looks of it, he is as well.
"Who was on the call anyway?"
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