Page 72 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

I gasp, clenching my hands around his thighs. “Sam,” I moan into the air.

“Fuck, Brynn. Say it again,” he orders between grunts.

So, I do. Over and over, I let his name roll off my tongue, each time getting louder.

He shows his appreciation by pressing harder on my clit. “Come for me.”

I tumble over that edge so fast, my head spins. I’m practically screaming his name as I tighten around his erection, my entire body shuddering as my release hits me head on.

Sam latches his hands onto my hips, thrusting into me with intense, passionate movements before succumbing to his own orgasm. His cock pulses inside me as he slows.

I collapse over onto him to rest my head on his shoulder. Our chests press into each other’s with the huge gulps of air we’re sucking in.

Sam tilts his head and kisses the top of mine. “You good?”

I note the sweet, affectionate action, but choose to ignore it. I’m so blissed-out right now, I can barely think. All I can do is hum a one-note syllable that sounds more like a caveman grunt than an affirmation to his question.

My head shakes with his laughter, the deep tone vibrating through his chest. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

We fall into comfortable silence as we lie together. One of his hands brushes up my back while the other stays tucked under his head. With my ear against his chest, I listen to his heartbeat steady itself.

This moment is reminiscent of our time in the hotel. The way he’s holding me. The warmth of his body next to mine. His soft breath moving my hair and tickling my neck. It’s all so serene. I hate that I enjoy it so much.

Suddenly, I feel him tense beneath me. “Can you move?”

“Probably,” I mumble against his chest.

“Well, can you? Because I need to get up.”

The harshness in his tone surprises me. It’s vastly different from the Sam I was just fucking, and as much as I don’t want to admit that it hurts me to hear, it does. I roll to the side, releasing him from me, and curl into a ball, immediately missing his warmth.

Without another word, he gets up from the bed and heads for the bathroom.

I don’t have time to pick apart his abrupt change in demeanor, so I jump out of the bed to get dressed. After all, our agreement has been fulfilled. Now that the sex is over, we can get to the presentation which is really why I’m here. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

Sam and I are not friends. We are not a couple. There are no feelings between us other than the desire between our legs which we’ve satiated.

Chapter 23

Once I’m dressed, I hurry to the living room to set up the study group materials. I’m in the process of starting up the laptop when Sam comes into the room. He waltzes in wearing his jeans and no shirt. I have to swallow down my racing heart as I think about having his muscular torso pressed against me only minutes ago.

When he doesn’t say anything, I flick my gaze up to find a sultry smirk on his face. “What?” I ask.

“I like that top.” His voice is full of grit, and it makes me squirm.

I glance down at my camisole, my nipples barely visible through the lace. “Sorry,” I say, and grab my tank top from the floor, pulling it on. “There. Better?”

“I wasn’t complaining in the first place.” He rounds the couch and picks his shirt up off the floor. “But that’s not much of a shirt either. Do you want another one? I have more.”

It’s a sweet gesture, and I want to accept, but all of his shirts probably smell like him and the last thing I need is his scent saturated into my skin more than it already is. “No, but thanks. I’m fine like this.”

“You sure are.” Joining me on the couch, he pats my thigh.

I whip my head up, my eyebrows furrowed.

“That was really fun in there,” he says, nodding toward his bedroom.

I snort and push his hand from my leg. “Yeah, well, now we have work to do.”

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