Page 50 of Off Limits

He settles on the couch, propping his right leg up on the stack of pillows on his coffee table as he starts poking through the basket. “And what do we have here?”

I slide onto the couch next to him. “I thought you might like a care package.”

He holds up a package of Milano cookies and a box of peanut butter protein cookies. “I’m not sure what to think about these choices.”

“Well, I know you need lots of protein, but I also wanted to spoil you. So … cookies I know are yummy and cookies that might be a nice treat but aren’t just empty calories.”

He stares at me like I’m the most wondrous creature he’s ever seen, which is lovely, but it’s also a lot.

Ducking my head, I lean forward and poke at the contents of the basket. “I also got you some reusable hot/cold packs. I figured you probably had some already, but more can’t hurt. And Autumn put together this massage oil. She said it would help your knee.”

He gently takes the glass bottle from my fingers, uncaps it, and gives it a sniff. With an appreciative grunt, he replaces the cap and puts it back in the basket along with everything else, which he then sets on the floor next to him. Then he hooks his big hands under my arms and lifts me into his lap, where he proceeds to kiss me thoroughly.

“Thank you,” he says, the words a reverent breath. “I appreciate all the things you got for me.”

I try to fight down my blush, but my cheeks heat anyway. “You’re welcome. It’s not really that big of a deal, though.”

“If you say so.” He smooths a few stray strands of hair that have escaped my ponytail out of my face and behind my ear, his eyes tracking over my face with that same sense of reverent wonder. And in his lap like this without the basket between us, it’s harder to hide from that look, and the intensity of it is … a lot. So when he kisses me again, it’s a relief.

Relief soon gives way to other feelings, though. Specifically horniness. And soon, I’m breaking off the kiss, but only so I can adjust, turn, slide my knee in the narrow space between his body and the arm of the couch and the other in the wide open area on the other side. I wore fleece lined leggings today, and while they’re plenty warm, they’re pliable, and so I can feel him hardening between my legs almost like we’re both naked.

Almost.

His hands grip my ass, one finding its way inside my leggings, but he lets me move and grind on him without trying to direct me, simply letting me have my way with him, his tongue sliding against mine as we make out on his couch.

When he grunts as though he’s in pain, I immediately lift up and stop kissing him. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I lean back too far and put pressure on your leg wrong? Do you want me to stop?”

This time he groans like a wounded bear. “Christ, no. I’m just irritated by all this fabric in my way.” His eyes twinkle as his hands hold me steady, and he presses himself up against my center. “That night you crashed on the couch, when your roommate forgot to text you that you could come home?”

I tilt my head to the side, not sure where he’s going with this. “What about it?”

His mouth pulls to the side like he’s suppressing a smile and also not sure if he should divulge whatever he’s thinking about. Which of course just makes me all the more curious.

“Simon.” I give my voice a commanding edge. “Tell me.”

He chuckles. “I’ve never heard you use your bossy voice on me before.”

“My bossy voice?”

He nods. “You use it on Cal all the time, but you’re usually all sweetness when you want something from me.”

Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest and let my weight slide to his open side, but his hands on my hips hold me in place, and he rocks into me again. Maybe I’m not so annoyed about being called bossy if it results in him doing that.

I let out a soft sound of pleasure, my head lolling back and my arms uncrossing and slipping down my torso. “What about that night? You brought it up. You might as well tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I had a dream that night,” he says, his voice gruff, almost harsh.

That has me looking at him again. “Oh yeah? What kind of dream?”

He smirks. “I think you know exactly what kind of dream.”

Simon’s been having sex dreams about me since the first week of classes? How interesting …

“What was your dream about?” I whisper. “Specifically.”

He leans in and kisses me once. “Specifically,” he whispers, his breath fanning over my lips, “I dreamed about you.” Kiss. “And me.” Kiss. “Like this.” A longer kiss, with a hint of tongue. “Naked.”

Goosebumps wash over me, and a shiver races up my spine as he kisses me deeply. “And now you want to live out that dream?” I ask when I come up for air.

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