Page 142 of While You Were Trending

“Tell me to stop—” he starts.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

I don’t know if it’s his heart or mine pounding against my ribs, but I know I can’t stop touching him.

Kissing his neck and shoulders.

Rubbing my clit shamelessly against his hard length with every step he takes toward the house.

I might spontaneously combust before we make it to my room.

“Up the stairs, left, second door,” I say when he hits the porch.

“Anyone—inside?”

“Don’t care.”

He shoves me against the door and kisses me until I don’t care if I never breathe again while he fumbles with the handle.

I want his mouth. His tongue. His body.

His heart.

The door swings open, and his hands are both on my ass again, cradling me with nothing but my thin cotton panties between us.

Again.

If this man doesn’t touch my bare ass with his hands tonight, I’m going to die of utter frustration.

No one says anything when the door slams louder than is polite.

Flow grumbles.

Good.

Good.

She’s inside. She’s with us.

Declan turns as I’m licking a trail up his neck, and his pace changes.

The stairs.

Thank the stars, we’re on the stairs.

If my housemates are up, none of them makes a peep.

It’s not against the rules to take men to our rooms, but none of us do it frequently.

Or at all.

But I want this man now.

Ineedhim.

I need to know if this is all a fluke, if it’s something we’ll laugh off in the morning or if it—if it’s something more.

Declan reaches the top of the stairs, breathing heavy, and turns right.