Page 68 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“Why?” Sam zips his backpack and sets it on the ground. “Is this about what happened on Halloween?”

“Of course it is.” I fold my arms, hoping I can hold down the heat rising within me. “We’re supposed to be colleagues, classmates. We can’t casually hook-up and retain our professionalism.”

“Why not?”

I jerk my head back like it’s the most absurd question he could ask. “What do you mean, why not? Lots of reasons.”

“Name your best one.”

“Well, there’s the fact that we hate each other’s guts.”

“Right, that.” His gaze bounces around before meeting mine again. “Lots of people who hate each other have sex. Next point.”

I scoff at how casually he brushed that off. “Sam, are you actually suggesting we become fuck-buddies?”

“That term implies the two parties are friendly.” He tilts his head from side to side, a grin spreading across his face. “I was thinking more along the lines of fucking-frenemies.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. “You’re joking.”

“Not in the slightest.” His seriousness makes my heart race. “Let’s check the facts, shall we.” He bends his leg to sit halfway on the desk. “You and I are both single, both busy fourth year college students who, let’s face it, don’t have the time or energy to date. We already see each other on a regular basis, already know each other fairly well. We don’t necessarily get along, but that’s a non-issue in the bedroom.”

I tear my gaze away from his as I bite down on my lower lip. He’s not wrong in any of what he’s saying, but do I agree with him?

“Plus, it’s obvious we enjoy each other’s bodies. At least, I assume you enjoyed having my fingers inside you last weekend.” The gravel in his tone makes me shudder, and he grins.

I lick my lips. “But that would be it, right? All physical, no feelings?”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a deep swallow as he nods. “Of course. We’d be two consenting adults who happen to enjoy having sex. That’s it.”

“But what do we say if people ask about our relationship?”

“Who says anyone has to know? You already come to my place once a week. We can hide behind the study group prep guise.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?” He shrugs. “We can bang out our frustrations before we bust out the presentation.” The self-satisfied smirk on his face is both adorable and infuriating.

But I laugh all the same. “No way. It’s absurd.”

“You think so?” he asks, lowering his voice to a soft growl. He slides off the desk to brace his hands on the arms of my chair and caging me in. His face hovers inches from mine. If I tilt up a bit, our mouths will meet, and how I long to feel his lips on mine again. Slowly, he moves his head so his mouth grazes my ear, and his hand slides up my thigh. “Tell me to stop.”

A shaky breath escapes me, but I say nothing.

His hand inches higher, his fingertips brushing the crease where my thigh meets my hip. “If it’s so absurd, tell me no, Brynn.”

My eyes flutter closed, but I stay silent.

He slips his hand between my thighs, barely touching my apex. “Are you already wet for me?” he whispers, and I break.

My eyes pop open, and I swat his arm away. I sit straight up, my chest heaving as I struggle to fill my lungs. As I collect myself, I watch Sam lean his hip against the desk, his arms folded confidently across his chest.

“Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“What?”

“Go home and think it over. Just don’t think too hard about it.” With a wink, he leans down to grab his backpack. “If you decide you want to give it a try, show up at my place at one o’clock tomorrow like normal. If not,” he says, hiking his pack onto his shoulder, “then I’ll meet you at the coffee shop down the street at one-thirty.”

I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a permanent crease between my eyebrows from the amount of thinking I’ll be doing, but I nod in agreement.

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