I like experimental Nell. I like her so damn much.

Chapter 17

Nell’s To-Do List

• Normal College Thing #4: Do something wild.

• Don’t get caught.

It was an impulsive move. I had a hazy memory of him doing this to me when I was drunk the other night, and I remember that it felt like all my bones had gone liquid. My response had surprised me. Never in a million years would I have thought that such a thing could have that strong an effect on me. And I’d just wanted to, I don’t know . . . return the favor.

But now my brain isn’t blurred by alcohol, and I’m intensely aware that I’m standing in a library where anyone could walk by . . . sucking on his thumb. And I’d just admitted to a hugely embarrassing fascination for watching another couple’s intimacy, and seriously what is wrong with me? I’m such a freak.

God, I’m doing this all wrong. I don’t know how to be sexy, how to be . . . this.

Just when I’m about to pull away, Mateo’s body collapses against mine, and his teeth nip the lobe of my ear. My mouth falls open on a gasp, and his wet thumb rubs across the circle of my lips before dipping back inside.

Does that mean this is good? That I’m not making a fool of myself?

“You’re killing me, Nell.” In response, I swirl my tongue around his thumb again, and he groans. His hot breath sends a shiver down my spine. “Do you know how bad I want you? Do you have any idea?”

He drags his thumb from my mouth and moves to press his forehead against mine. Seconds later, the lower half of his body leans into mine, too.

I can feel him, hot and hard against my stomach. He’s wearing gym shorts, and I’m shocked by how much I can feel through the layers of our clothes. And while I’m still marveling at the feel of him, he kisses me, his lips demanding my attention.

Our last kiss had been long and exploratory. We’d barely known each other then. And though I still don’t know the facts of him—I don’t know about his family or his childhood or how he sees his future—I do feel like I know him. And God knows he knows plenty about me. And this kiss? There’s nothing slow or introductory about it. His tongue drives into my mouth, punishing and seeking and coaxing all at the same. His hands grip the shelves on either side of me, caging me in so he can press his body flush against mine. I bring my own hands up around his waist to clutch at his back. He changes the angle of our kiss, somehow pushing even harder, and I dig my fingers into his back to hold on.

He makes a noise into the kiss that’s almost a growl and trails his mouth down to my neck. He reaches around to take my hands from his back, and then pushes them against the shelves behind me. Pinning my hands out to my sides, he continues his assault up my neck and back to my mouth.

Some part of me had thought that I was exaggerating the rawness of our kisses in the pool. I’d expected that if Mateo ever kissed me again, it would be more like his personality is every day. Teasing and light and just a little overwhelming.

But there’s something primal and dominant in him that doesn’t come out except in moments like this. I feel like it should make me nervous, especially with my arms trapped against the shelves, but I like that he’s in control, that he knows what he’s doing whenever I don’t.

Against my mouth, he says, “I need to touch you. Let me touch. That’s all.”

We’re in public. We could be caught at any moment. For all I know, someone could be watching us right now. I should say no. Be smart, Nell. Say no. “Okay.”

Oh, to hell with being smart.

While his mouth conquers mine, building and stoking a fire that feels barely contained inside me, he slides both of my hands above my head so he can hold them there with one hand. I suck in a breath, feeling my spine tense with anticipation. His fingers slide along the waistband of my yoga pants. He strokes gently from one hip, over my slightly rounded belly, to my other hip. Then his hand slips beneath the fabric, beneath my underwear, and his fingers touch me where only I have ever touched. Instinctively, I shy away, trying to pull my hips back, but the shelves behind me stop my retreat.

He breaks the kiss to return to my ear, his hand stilling against me. He kisses the shell and whispers to me, “Just breathe. I only want to make you feel good. Can I do that? I’ll be gentle.”

I swallow, glad that I don’t have to look him in the eye, and nod.

“Not good enough. I need a yes. I need you to say it. Before I make you fall apart, right here, I need to know you want my hand there as much as I do.”

I can’t bring myself to do more than whisper when I say, “I want it.”

Then he’s looking me in the eye, and smirking, and his fingers drag over damp flesh. “We’ll work on your volume later when we’re not in public.”

Everything clenches in response to his whispered words. How will I ever be able to enter this library again without blushing?

He circles a finger around my most sensitive spot, immediately homing in on what it took me several fumbling tries to find on my own the first time I touched myself there.

I clench my teeth and force myself to breathe out of my nose to stay silent. His hand above my head shifts, and he turns one of my hands around. “Hold on to this shelf.”

He doesn’t stop his ministrations down below, so it takes me a few seconds to comply. When I do, he squeezes my hand beneath his, making me grip the shelf harder. “Keep your hands there. Don’t let go.”

I bite my lip to keep from replying, though at this point I have no idea what I would say. No? Yes, please? Make unintelligible noises?

I hang on tight to the shelf above me and fix my gaze on a point on the ceiling. His fingers circle again, and then slide back to dip inside me for the first time. The muscles in my thighs tense, and I breathe in through my nose.

“Hey,” Mateo says at the same time that he slips his other hand beneath my shirt to cup my breast. “Why are you holding back?” He leans in to kiss my clenched jaw. “Relax for me.”

He thumbs at my nipple through the material of my bra, and I squeeze my eyes shut. He does it again, pumping his finger inside me at the same time, and instinctively I pull my thighs closer together, whether to trap his hand or resist it, I’m not even sure.

He kisses me hard, but his hands are moving and there’s so much going on that I can barely react. I let him kiss me, but I’m too concentrated on the aching pull between my thighs.