Page 48 of These Secret Years

“Would it help to know there’s not a single other math or math-related class required in my curriculum?”

“That’s what you think,” I say. “You’d be surprised how often basic algebra comes up in the core curriculum. Sociology?”

“I’ll skip the math questions on the sociology tests.”

“Psychology.”

“Already passed it.”

“Government, sometimes.”

He grins. “You’re reaching.”

I don’t realize our heads have been leaning closer and closer until his mouth meets mine, and he’s kissing me. He’s playing me so hard, I might as well have strings, but his tongue in my mouth is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

It’s a short, deep kiss, and he gives me a small peck when he’s finished delivering it. “Regarding my technique, I’m a huge fan of constructive criticism.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, unable to think.

“I can tell cheating goes against some moral code you have, so I brought some extra incentive.”

My mind may as well be melting out of my ears. I can still hear him, but every molecule of blood in my body is headed south. “Cheating doesn’t seem to be a problem for you at all.”

He runs a hand down my chest, over my breastbone to my abs where it slides from left to right. “What does the word complicated mean to you?”

“I…” That’s too deep. I’ve got no coherent answer or clue what we’re talking about anymore. “What does it mean to you?”

“You want to get to know me? Why? Is there a point?”

“Yeah—I mean—I don’t know.”

“Do you want to be my friend, champ?”

His hand on my abs, so close to my dick, it’s driving me crazy. “Maybe.”

“Don’t you think that would be messy?”

“Probably,” I concede.

He leans in to lick a line up my neck before sucking my earlobe between his lips. It’s incinerating. “Can I tell you what I want?” he asks in a heated whisper.

“Please.”

“I want this one thing to be incredibly uncomplicated.” His hand finally, finally covers my stiff erection, smoothing over it through my pants.

I don’t want to negotiate anymore. I want his fucking mouth. I turn my head, my lips seeking his, but he tips his chin back, keeping them out of reach. His fingers trace the outline of my cock. “What are we gonna do about this quiz?”

If I were any harder, there’d be a rip in my pants. “I don’t know if I can algebra right now.”

He smirks. “Need your cock sucked?”

How pathetic am I? I nod, my cheek brushing his forehead.

He moves his hand out of the way. “Show me what I’m working with.”

I pull open my waistband, and half of my dick appears like it couldn’t wait to see him.

“Goddamn,” Sullivan whispers. “It’s so pretty.”