Then, I meet his gaze, my lashes fluttering as my heart pounds. “And my lips...” I pause, exhaling slowly, letting the weight of the confession settle between us. “Haven’t been kissed in years.”

Vic goes utterly still.

Then, like a decision has been made, his fingers slide up my throat, tilting my chin until our lips are mere inches apart. His eyes flick to mine—dark, unreadable, and searching for permission, for surrender, for something I’m not sure either of us can name.

But instead of claiming my lips, he kisses me everywhere else.

His mouth finds my neck, leaving slow, lingering pecks that warm my skin, each press of his lips setting off sparks, igniting something deep and dangerous. He trails lower, his breath fanning against my collarbone before moving to my ear, where he nibbles, teasing, his breath hot and deliberate. The vibration of it pulses through my body, sending shivers down my spine, pooling heat low in my stomach, and filling up a dam of wetness between my thighs.

What is happening?

I’ve never felt this sensation before. This slow, burning ache spreads everywhere and tightens with every pass of his hands and every brush of his lips. I’m so embarrassed, embarrassed to tell him I’m on the verge of coming without a single touch of where I need it the most, but I think he knows. How could he not? My breathless moans give me away. The tremors that rack my body make it obvious.

Still, he continues his path with persistence. His mouth lowers, and his hands kneads my flesh into a fevered frenzy, but when his lips hover over my hardened nipple, my body tenses in anticipation.

Until I break.

“Touch me there,” I pant, voice wrecked with need. “Flick my nipple with your tongue.”

A wicked, satisfied hum rumbles from him, vibrating against my skin. Without even undoing my shirt, he obeys—circling his tongue around my nipple through my thin top, slowly licking, teasing, then sucking just enough to make my back arch.

I gasp while my hands slowly drag through his low, salt-and-pepper hair, and my nails dig into his shoulders as he nibbles and flicks, drawing me deeper into the haze of pleasure. My mind is a blur, floating somewhere between the relief of my back pain and the intoxicating, humiliating edge of an impending climax.

I barely register him shifting until suddenly, I’m lifted onto his lap, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His hands are strong, relentless, and gripping my hips, molding me to him, and when he presses me down, I feel it. Thick, enormous, and long, at least four inches more than what I’ve ever felt before.

“Oh, fuck, Kerry,” he groans, voice thick and rough. “We’re fully clothed, just working through the syllabus, and yet you’re…” His fingers tighten on my thighs, his mouth brushing against my jaw. “Soaking wet right now.”