Page 98 of Campus Fake

“Fuck,” I breathed, my fingers twisting into his hair.

He groaned against me—a low, vibrating sound that I felt everywhere—and the combination of his mouth and that sound had my thighs shaking. He sucked my clit between his lips, and my back arched so hard I thought I’d snap in half. Then he slid two fingers inside me, curving forward until he found the spot that made my brain short-circuit. His mouth never stopped, his tongue working my clit in slow, devastating circles while his fingers stroked deep.

I was a mess. Gasping his name, pulling his hair, my heels digging into his back. He was making sounds against me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and every groan and hum sent vibrations through my clit that had me climbing faster than I could keep up with.

He worked me higher with devastating patience. Every time I got close, he eased off just enough to keep me on the edge, and the tension coiled tighter and tighter in my belly until I was a writhing mess under him, begging.

“Please… Harry, I need⁠—”

He sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked, his fingers curving deep, and my orgasm detonated. Pleasure rolled through me in waves that had my back arching off the bed and my thighs clamping around his head while I cried out.

He kissed his way back up my body as the aftershocks faded until his mouth found mine again. I could taste myself on his lips, and it sent a fresh spike of heat through me that had no business existing so soon after coming that hard.

But I was learning that my desire for Harry never really faded. I always wanted him.

I reached for his belt, and this time he let me unbuckle it. I shoved his jeans and boxers down, wrapping my hand around him. He was hard and thick, and the groan he let out when I stroked him from base to tip was guttural enough to make my core clench.

“Harry, if you don’t get inside me right now, I swear to God⁠—”

He lined himself up and pushed in slow, stretching me inch by inch until he bottomed out and we both went still, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard. The fullness was perfect—he fit me exactly right, and the intimacy of the position, face to face, chest to chest, made everything feel amplified.

He started to move in long, deep strokes that had me gasping on each one. His hand cradled the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair, while the other gripped my hip. He kept his eyes on mine, and the intensity of being watched while being filled—hell, being seen while being undone—was nearly overwhelming.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said, his voice strained and rough. “Every single part of my life is better because you’re in it.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. “I love you.”

His pace quickened, his hips driving into me with a force that made the headboard tap the wall. My nails raked down his back and he groaned against my neck, his rhythm faltering for a beat before he caught it again. His hand slid between us and his thumb found my clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and the dual sensation sent me climbing fast.

I gasped, pulling his face to mine. “I want to feel you come.”

His jaw tightened and his thrusts turned urgent, deep and relentless, his thumb still working me. The pressure built to a breaking point, and I came with his name on my lips, clenching around him as the pleasure crashed through me. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a shudder and a groan, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

His weight on top of me was grounding, and I held on, my fingers tracing lazy lines down his spine while our breathing slowly returned to normal.

He lifted his head and looked at me with those gray eyes that had seen through me from the very beginning.

“Director of community relations and brand strategy, huh?” he said. The pride in his voice was quiet and immense.

I grinned. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

He kissed me once. “It suits you.”

I pulled him back down, tucking myself into his chest, and let myself feel it all—the pride, the joy, and the certainty that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. With this man, in this town, building a life that I’d chosen for myself.

But most powerful of all was the acceptance that I deserved happiness without guilt.

FORTY-SIX

They hung a banner above the tunnel that read SENIOR NIGHT in maroon and black letters, and the sight of it stopped me mid-stride on my way to the locker room.

I couldn’t believe it was already here. The last game of my college hockey career. Realistically, it was the last hockey game I’d likely ever play competitively unless I joined a men’s league.

I’d braced myself for this night, but now that it was here, emotions were hitting me unexpectedly. Tonight would be my last night on the ice with this team. And even though I didn’t really feel ready to say goodbye, the time had come.

It was time to close the book on this chapter in my life and open the next one.

The locker room was loud as usual. The freshmen and sophomores were wired with game-day energy. The juniors were hyped up about the passing of the torch and being the new team leaders. Meanwhile, the seniors were holding it together with varying degrees of success. We’d been the ones to rebuild this program after a fifteen-year hiatus. It was exciting to know we’d be leaving a legacy behind, but also heartbreaking to know this was basically where the train stopped with us for competitive hockey.