He moves his mouth from mine and lowers his lips to my neck, then works slow kisses down to my breast. The tip of his tongue sweeps over my nipple so painstakingly slowly that I can barely take it. Then my nipple is in his mouth. He sucks on me firmly and decisively until I whimper, and he moves to kiss my mouth again. This time he is gentle, running his tongue over my bottom lip, teasing me with his lips and his taste.

Keeping his body close to mine, he looks down and unties my robe. My hands are now in his hair, and we both watch as he caresses the curve of my breast, moves down my stomach, then to the inside of my thigh. This is the first time anyone has touched me or seen me like this, and I’m surprised that I’m not nervous or self-conscious. There’s a reason why: it’s Chris. He sweeps his hand over my underwear, just once, making me dig my fingers into his shoulders.

“Chris.” His name is barely audible even to me.

“I want to hear you come,” he says again.

Jesus, he is making it impossible to talk, but I want to tell him something. “No one … no one has … ” I manage.

He pauses for a moment and then lightly trails his fingertips up from my underwear all the way to my face. “No one?“

I smile a little. “Well, no one but me.”

He smiles back. Chris holds my face in his hand, kisses me once more, and then presses his cheek against mine. “Will you let me? I have to know how you sound.”

All I can do is nod.

He has one hand over my underwear and the other flat against the door by my head when he speaks again. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare.” I will kill him if he stops.

He eases my thighs apart just a bit and barely grazes the back of his hand between my legs. My arousal level has just gone into new territory. I am delirious with lust, but he keeps his pace unhurried and steady, making me want more with every move. Using one finger, he lifts my underwear and holds it to the side. Chris stays still, letting my tension and need mount as he hovers over me.

“Please,” I murmur.

So he runs a finger up and down, smoothly and sensuously, over and over.

I whimper again. The sound of his voice drives me crazy, and it is impossibly easy to turn myself over to him. I feel completely safe.

His finger goes against me a bit harder until he is moving in slow circles against my clit and I am groaning in his ear. I am not this loud when I’m alone, but there is no way to control myself with what he is doing to me.

“Yes … .” he encourages me. “I want to know what feels good for you.” His words coax me closer, heightening what already feels so perfect. He adjusts his touch slightly, and I put my hands on his shoulders.

“You like that?” he asks me in a murmur.

I groan again in response.

Then my underwear is down—I have no idea how this happens because I am so, so perfectly lost—and his fingers move lower. He parts me open slightly while he goes up and down with the barest hint of movement. “What about this?”

I dig my fingers into his skin.

The sound that I make when the tip of his finger goes inside me is unlike any other I have ever made.

“So that’s good, too?” he asks as he eases in a bit more.

“Yes.”

He starts to slip his finger in and out, delicately and seductively, luring me closer to orgasm. “You are so wet,” he breathes as I start to move reflexively into his hand. “And so hot. God, you feel like velvet.” He continues while he also places one finger higher, rubbing my clit again, just where I need it. I can hear my breathing getting faster, my sounds getting louder, and my world getting smaller, until the only thing left is the intensity of us.

“You’re close now, aren’t you?” he says, moving a little faster, pressing a little harder. I can’t talk, but I let myself fall into his words and his touch. “I’ve been wondering how you would sound like this,” he purrs. “From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted to hear this. And you sound incredible … You feel incredible … Come, Blythe, come… .”

My body tenses, and then I am still for a bit while the sensation climbs to incredible heights. “Oh God …”

I half open my eyes as I feel Chris take his cheek from mine so that he is watching me. My vision is blurry, but I know he is staring right into my eyes. “Baby,” he whispers. “Look at me. You’re so, so close … It’s like I’ve been waiting forever… . ”

I hold his look as he keeps working his hand against me. I groan and shake into his hold as my orgasm starts to hit. I have never come like this. My pleasure with him is more complete, more layered, more overwhelming than anything that I could give myself. I find that I am saying his name over and over as each wave engulfs me deeper in the beautiful abyss he has created. When it becomes impossible to see, I let my eyes close as he keeps his hand against me, making me shudder again and again.

Then his tongue is against mine, and his arms wrap around my lower back. He kisses me intensely and presses his chest against mine. I can feel how hard he is, and as dizzy and out of it as I am, part of me wonders what is going to happen next and whether or not I’ll know what to do.

But I don’t need to figure that out because Chris is too busy kissing me and only eventually slowing down until he gives me a final, light kiss and then nestles into the crook of my neck. I can feel him shaking his head back and forth, just slightly. “You are amazing.” He moves his hands to my waist and then slips my underwear back up. “You’re just … You’re everything.”

His words are perfect, but the tone in his voice is not right. Wistful. Apologetic.

I’m still catching my breath, but now I’m waiting for the ball to drop.

“I … I should go.” He pauses and slips his fingers into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he kisses me again quickly. “I need to go.”

“Wait, what?” I am so lost now. “No. No, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah. I do,” he says gently. “I want you too much.”

This I understand because I want him so completely right now that it terrifies me. “So stay.”

It seems to take forever for him to answer, and his hands are still playing with my hair, his lips still darting against mine every few seconds. “I can’t.” He steps back and takes my hand to move me out of the way of the door. “I’d give anything to stay, but I can’t. You’re stunning, Blythe.” He gives me an almost-sad smile. “But I just can’t stay. It’s too much.”

And before I can figure out what the fuck that means, he is gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Judging the Distance

I adjust the pillow behind my back and look at Eric, who is sitting on the extra bed in my room. “How long have we been at this studying nonsense?”

He yawns and rubs his head, smoothing down the buzz cut that is just starting to grow out. His head is fuzzy and soft, which I know because I’ve developed a fondness for rubbing it as though it’s some sort of genie lamp. Every time that I do this, he yells out, “Three wishes!” I always respond with something like, “Triple D breast implants, a basket of mini alpacas, and a spray can of whipped cream!”

This exchange is less traumatizing for both of us than what I should answer: I wish for parents who are alive, for a brother who doesn’t hate me, and for Chris to rip off my clothes and ravish me on a regular basis.

So, yeah. I go for the amusing wishes instead.

“So,” Eric says, grimacing. “Do you think we’re ready for this test? I hate essay exams.”

“Multiple choice would be worse. I never can pick just one answer. I always want to write in the margin, ‘I pick B, but depending on the approach you use to think about the character, D can be correct, too. ‘ You know?”

“Exactly!”

I smile at him. We have become regular study partners for the class we share, and every Saturday for the past month we have met up in my room or the student union in an attempt to stay on top of its demanding assignments. He is warm and easy to hang out with, and fortunately does not look so much like Chris that I can’t bear to be around him. But anytime that I see his last name written on anything, my stomach knots up.