House of Goths

Chapter 43

"Your friends seem upset," Heather said, sitting down on the edge of Dorian's bed. "Is it because of me?"

"Of course not," Dorian said, sitting down next to her, running his large hands up and down his leather clad thighs in an effort to keep from grabbing her. "That's just the way they are." He toyed with his wristband.

The energy between them was electric and he was having a hard time thinking straight. All the signals were there, her slightly parted lips, the rosiness in her pale cheeks, the subtle dilation of her pupils. Everything was moving along very quickly and he had no problem with that at all, yet he hesitated for some reason.

It's not often a girl like Heather asks to see his room. Why was she still here, he wondered? He half expected her to demand to be taken home after their run-in with his less than friendly housemates, but instead, she'd asked if she could see his room. His heart had practically jumped for joy.

Heather couldn't believe she'd gotten up the nerve to come with him to his house, let alone his room. This went against all the rules. She knew better than to allow herself to be alone with a strange college guy in a frat house. He'd referred to it as the House of Goths. That alone should have scared her off, yet she couldn't help but be inexplicably drawn to him.

He was different. So different from the guys she usually dated. That alone gave her hope. That and his kind eyes.

Those others all just wanted her for her body and bragging rights. None of them ever took the time to get to know her. She knew if she let it happen, one day, she'd wake up next to one of those guys and regret giving up her virginity to someone who saw her as a trophy and didn't care about her.

At least with Dorian, she felt that it wouldn't matter so much. It would be her choice and she would feel empowered by that fact when the deed was done. In the morning, they would both part on equal grounds. They most likely wouldn't see each other again. Their worlds would never have reason to collide. Even if he did brag amongst his friends, she would probably never hear of it. She hoped he wouldn't though. At some level, she believed he was the type who didn't need to brag. But what did she know?

What she hadn't counted on, though, was the way her heart was beating at the sight of his handsome face, piercings and all. He was covered in tattoos. She could see a couple creeping up his neck through his collar. She loved the way his floppy mohawk hung over his steely blue eyes. He was scary all right but in a very good way.

She could tell that he was a bit nervous from the way he was fiddling with his funky watch band. She didn't want him to be nervous, though, she wanted him to be the flirty, cocksure guy who had approached her that afternoon at the end of her shift.

Before she realized what she was doing, she reached for his hand. He immediately froze, and met her gaze, his blue eyes igniting with desire. They stared at each other for an unmarked amount of time before he bent his head and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle and full of promise. He laced a hand around the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, slipping his clever tongue into her mouth. No longer was he nervous, or shy. Thank goodness for that, because she was nervous enough for the both of them.

Dorian went in for the kill. If she wanted this, then who was he to question it? Easily overtaking her since she offered no resistance, he pressed her down on the bed, trapping her beneath his weight. Her arms automatically reached around his trim waist. They both sighed when their bodies lined up in the most perfect way.

Wanting to be sure of her intentions, Dorian drew back for a moment and gazed into her desire filled face. He silently asked permission with his eyes and when she smiled shyly and nodded, biting her bottom lip, he abandoned any and all hesitation. They didn't need words apparently, and that was perfectly okay with him.