Page 86 of The Jack*ss in Class

In answer, I rose on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.

This one ignited immediately. Flynn’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him as his other hand cradled my face. I wound my arms around his neck, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on mine, his body pressed to mine. I could feel that bulge in his jeans pressing against my belly, and I wanted so much more.

I danced my fingers down the front of his shirt and to his belt. Flynn grabbed my hand and stilled it, breaking the kiss. We were both breathing heavily, and the look in his eyes made heat pool low in my belly.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice rougher than before.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

The museum curator appeared so quickly I wondered if she’d been waiting nearby. “I hope everything was satisfactory?”

“Perfect,” Flynn assured her, his hand finding the small of my back. “Thank you for everything.”

Ten minutes later, we were in his car, an electric tension filling the space between us. Flynn’s hand rested on my knee, his thumb tracing small circles that sent shivers up my spine.

“My place isn’t far,” he said, shooting me a glance that made my pulse race.

“Okay,” I heard myself say, though a small voice in the back of my mind was screaming that this was moving too fast.

But I silenced it. For once in my life, I didn’t want to overthink. I wanted to feel.

Flynn’s house was modern and unexpectedly neat for a college athlete. But I barely had time to register my surroundings before his lips were on mine again, his hands tangling in my hair as he backed me against the closed front door.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my neck, sending electricity across my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I gasped as his hands skimmed down my sides, pulling me closer. The solid warmth of him pressed against me was intoxicating, and I found myself tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

“Yo, Flynn, you back?” a voice called from deeper in the house. “We need a tiebreaker on whether camping inCall of Doodyis a legitimate strategy.”

Flynn froze, his forehead dropping to my shoulder with a groan. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Voices and laughter suddenly registered from what Iguessed was the living room—lots of voices. Flynn pulled back slightly, keeping his hands on my waist.

“I forgot,” he said, looking genuinely pained. “Pre-spring break gaming tournament. The team does it every year.”

“The whole team?” I asked, trying to catch my breath and straighten my clothes.

“Feels like it,” he sighed, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Flynn,” the voice called again. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he called back, then lowered his voice. “We could still go to my room. They’ll be too busy gaming to bother us.”

Before I could answer, heavy footsteps approached, and Gryffin appeared in the hallway. His eyebrows rose as he took in our slightly disheveled appearance.

“Oh. Hey, Tempest.” His grin was knowing. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” I said quickly, heat flooding my cheeks.

“We were just leaving,” Flynn added, shooting his twin a look.

“My room’s free if you need it,” Gryff offered with a wink. “Though fair warning, these walls are pretty thin.”

“Shut up,” Flynn muttered, grabbing his keys. “Let’s go,” he said to me.

As we passed the living room, I caught sight of at least eight football players sprawled across couches and the floor, controllers in hand, surrounded by pizza boxes and energy drinks. Several called out greetings as we hurried past.

“So much for privacy,” Flynn said once we were back in his car. “I’m really sorry about that.”

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