Page 75 of Play For Me

And apparently has been for more than just a few weeks?

“Years,” he says again. “Since I first saw you.” He lifts his head to kiss me again but I keep a few inches between us, still not able to quite wrap my mind around what he’s saying.

“When did you first see me?”

“Party your freshman year,” he says. “At the Zeta house. You were talking to Vega and Violet. You had a game that afternoon so your cheeks were all pink, the way they always are after you play.” His fingertips trail over my cheekbones. “It’s so pretty.”

I have no idea what to say to that. The fact that he noticed me way back then is kind of blowing my mind. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” I ask. “Did you know I was friends with Jay?”

“Oh, I knew,” he mutters. “Drove me fucking crazy every time I saw you talk to him.”

I gape at him. “I never had any, you know, romantic feelings about him.”

He shakes his head, eyes dark. “I wasn’t jealous. I mean, I guess I was, but not because I thought you were into him.” He smirks a little. “You’re obviously way too good for him.”

“Then why were you jealous?”

“Because he got to be near you,” he says simply. “He got to talk to you.”

“I would have talked to you, too.”

He presses a kiss to my jaw and doesn’t respond.

“Solomon—”

“I want you,” he says, pulling back to look up at me. His eyes are dark and certain, no hint of doubt. “And it’s not because I had a bad night or I need cheering up or anything else thatmight be going through your head. I’ve wanted you for so long, Cecelia.”

The intensity of his words sends my stomach plummeting to my knees in the most delicious way, like I just went over the hill of a really amazing roller coaster. “I want you too,” I tell him, hardly recognizing my voice. He groans a little and again moves to kiss me. This time I stop him with a hand to his chest and he makes such an unsatisfied, almost petulant noise that I can’t help but chuckle.

“Your clinicals,” I tell him, already kicking myself for bringing it up. He’s so responsible that the reminder will probably have him putting a stop to this immediately?—

“I don’t give a shit about my clinicals,” he says and that stomach swoop thing happens all over again.

“I know I should argue, but you’re making it really hard for me to care much myself,” I tell him. Our eyes lock and it feels like my heart stops beating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such naked desire on someone’s face. And I know he can see the same on mine. We both want this. So what on earth are we waiting for?

We move at the same time, our mouths crashing together. His hands are back on my chest while mine find their way into his hair. He shudders against me when I run my nails over his scalp, so I do it again. This time he makes a growling noise low in this chest that hits me straight in the gut.

Now I’m the one desperate to get his shirt off, to get my hands on his skin. And holy hell does he look even better up close. The abs that Violet loves to tease me about are insane, actually. Like, almost offensive. Who has a right to look that good?

“Are you aware that you’re hissing at me?” he asks, voice laced in amusement.

“Your body is unfairly good,” I tell him.

He lets out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding over my bare skin, lighting me on fire. “Cecelia, you have no idea.”

The way his eyes are flashing as he looks at me makes me feel brave, so I reach behind me and undo my bra clasp. He groans so loud I almost laugh, but then his mouth is on my breasts and it feels too good to do anything except sink against him.

It’s shameless, the way I move against him, the way I kiss him with so much desperation. I can’t seem to get close enough no matter how hard I try, and he must feel the same way too, because he suddenly moves and flips me onto my back on the mattress, his entire body spread out over me, every inch of me pressed against him.

It’s still not enough.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, moving down to grip the waistband of my track pants.

“I’ll be so pissed at you if you don’t.”

He laughs, the sound vibrating against my skin as he leans in to kiss me just above the hip. Then he’s sliding my pants off, cursing to himself as his hands move against my thighs. Not wanting to wait for him to ask if he can take off my underwear, I shimmy out of them, and his cursing gets even louder.

“Fuck, Cecelia,” he mutters, kneeling on the mattress and staring down at me. “You’re so…” he shakes his head, his eyes looking wild, and a little thrill goes through me to know I’m affecting him like this.