{18+ COMPLETED • COLLEGE ROMANCE}
When a college freshman with a learning disability and a reputation collides with a straight-A, straight-laced girl in the dorm kitchen one night, he sees the darkest parts of himself reflected in her. But the two o...
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M A D I E
November Twenty-Second
Five
Unravel for me.
—
We didn't make it inside.
We were completely covered in sand, after all.
We tumbled into the outdoor shower by the back door. I grazed the length of Bren's body as he pressed me into the slippery slate wall. Shivers ran down my spine at the cool texture on my back, a distinct contrast from the heat of Bren's skin and his mouth as he continued to kiss me.
"Is this good enough?" he rasped, breaking away to reach around and flip the shower on. The spray of water arched above my head, hitting Bren as he stood back. It plastered his dark hair to his head, a luke-warm current running over him. His eyes didn't leave mine. They were flaring, untamed. "Do you still feel okay?"
"Yes." It was like we were in a tiny sanctuary, walled in on three sides by stony, elegant slabs. But even the shower's open entrance was blocked from view by any onlookers, the tall row of wild hedges that surrounded the entire back patio giving us cover. A palm tree swayed above, but I couldn't feel the breeze anymore. It was all broken sun rays and tropical steam and slick skin.
I took a step into him, into the water, letting it wash away the sand and the sea. And then I kissed Bren and let him wash away everything else. We swayed a little, finally not dancing around it but dancing in it. Water poured over us, streaming between our lips and fingers as we held onto each other desperately. Everything was desperate.
But Bren used slow, deliberate steps as he walked me back into the wall, leveraging his body against mine to hit me in all the right places. His body—the hardness and the heat—flooded me with feeling, a torrid tidal wave of it. Winding my arms around his neck again, I spread my fingers into thick, wet hair, pulling at the roots.
Breaking from his mouth, I cast a gaze upward. "It was never going to be just a kiss with us, was it?"
"No." Bren shook his head and pulled away, disentangling himself from me. He flattened himself to the opposite wall of the tiny shower, fingers attempting to dig into stone that wouldn't give, his chest rising and falling as he admired me. Water trickled down muscles I longed to touch. His voice was constricted. "Did you want it to be just a kiss?"
Everything about his body told me he was holding back with all that he had.
"No," I whispered. "I just...I understand now."
Or maybe I'd always known, and that was why I wanted him to give in so badly.
I needed his fuel, and he needed my fire. And together, we burned.
