Lunar Crest University (Forbidden Fruit)

Chapter Twelve

FINLEY

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 11TH, 2023

M y body stiffens, and a heady sigh leaves my mouth, a mixture between a moan and a coo, as I bite down on my bottom lip. There was no time to think about what I was doing before the sound fumbles from my lips. It’s instinctual, a knee-jerk reaction to the feeling of Luca’s torso pressing against my back. He feels firm, his chest a lot harder than I’d imagined as he pins me against the door, his body radiating so much heat, my forehead pricks with sweat.

Waves of goosebumps wash through me as I struggle to compose my ragged breathing and the pace at which my shoulders rise and fall while my heart hammers inside my chest. It’s all I can hear echoing in my ears as I count the slow seconds that tick by, followed by deafening silence.

And then, his voice resonates next to my ear, deep and raspy all at once, the most tantalizing thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

“ Finley .”

It’s like he’s whispering a prayer, confessing his sins, begging for redemption, all in one word—my name. I can hear the five stages of grief flutter through his tone as he pleads with me through a pant.

I swallow the cottony wad of saliva in my throat, unable to speak—unable to form a coherent sentence. The only thing I can focus on is his touch, the way his hips jerk ever so lightly as he speaks. He’s restrained in every sense of the word.

I should restrain myself too.

He’s dangerous. He slings guns in dark alleys and has a past I’m not sure I even want to know about.

“I’m not like him, Princesa ,” he breathes, his voice taut. “I won’t force myself on you. I won’t touch you without your permission.”

I can feel his unsteady breaths across the back of my neck as he speaks, sending shockwaves down my spine. The jolt makes me tremble slightly as I slowly arch into him, rolling my hips back as I press myself against the hardness that strains inside his slacks. It’s the most nerve-racking thing I’ve ever done, the riskiest—granting him the permission he seeks.

I feel as though I’ve just jumped off a cliff I can’t see the bottom of as the adrenaline courses through my veins, warm and electric.

In this moment, I don’t give a fuck about danger.

Luca hisses as I buck against him, a quick, staccato sound that turns into a low rumble through his chest. A quiet gasp leaves my lips as one of his hands whisks from the door to grip my hip, his fingers digging into me through my skirt, holding me still.

This is wrong, Finn.

He’s my professor.

“I need you to tell me, Finley,” he whispers.

His voice is deep and rich , just like honey. I wonder if he tastes as sweet as my head falls back against his shoulder. My cheek brushes against his, his stubble gently scratching my skin. With trembling fingers, I softly grasp his hand that still grips my wrist, trailing my thumb over his.

“ Tell me.”

“Please,” I rasp feebly.

My voice doesn’t even sound like mine—I’m drunk on him.

Luca shudders, his breath cascading across my exposed neck as he rolls his hips into me. I can hear him hold his breath for a moment from the friction, chasing it again as he bucks against me for a second time. His movements are tentative and needy, blending as he pulls me toward him with every thrust.

“If we do this…” he trails off.

His fingers dig into my waist so harshly, I’m sure there’ll be bruises later. The thought of his mark left behind on my hip makes me bite my bottom lip, my fingers still resting on his, tugging them down. He follows with his hand as I guide him down the front of my skirt, stopping just at the hem, both of us hesitating quietly.

That thin line, the step to cross over that boundary, feels like leaping over a sheer drop. Once our feet land on the other side, things will never be the same— we will never be the same. But as his finger brushes against my inner thigh, I’ve never wanted to bound across that line more.

Nothing that feels this good can be wrong.

“Touch me?” I beg.

I release the grip I have on his hand as I brush it underneath the hem of my skirt, placing my palms against the door to brace myself.

He growls in response.

My stomach swirls with excitement, exhilaration, and nervousness all in one. It feels like a huge bundle of nerves weighing me down, all the way to my core, begging to be released. I yearn for the feeling of his fingers pressed against my clit. I throb just thinking about it. His hand moves in slow motion as it slides up my thigh, making me squirm impatiently beneath him.

“ Luca ,” I plead eagerly.

I feel his body freeze, and I hold my breath. Dread fills my veins. Has he come to his senses? Realized he’s making a mistake?

“You know my name?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

For a moment, I’m scared I’ve ruined everything. I’ve invaded his privacy. I’ve given him the impression I’m a stalker. My mind starts to spiral, self-sabotage mode in full force, as my shoulders sag feebly.

His lips press against my ear. “Say it again.”

I lean into his touch as a shiver wracks through me. “Luca.”

A groan escapes his mouth and into my ear as his hand slides up further, his fingers finding my most sensitive spot through my panties. The contact makes me inhale sharply as he beings to circle his middle finger against my clit. I hate not being able to feel his skin against my own.

Arching into him, pressing my ass against his erection, I moan softly as he works his fingers over me. His arm wraps around my waist as he touches me, pulling me flush against him as he rolls his hips in sync with my own.

“ Silencio, ” he hisses. “You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you? Want anyone to try walking in here while I’ve got you in the palm of my hand?”

It’s obvious we want to cross the line but are afraid of going too far. We settle into the perfect rhythm of his finger rubbing my clit through the fabric as he grinds himself against my backside, chasing the release he’s so close to giving me too. It’s just enough to reach what we desire but not enough to make the guilt pool in our stomachs.

He could easily pull away like this if someone came through the door. That statement alone should have me running away, but it didn’t feel wrong. Not even close. Not with the way he’s panting heavily in my ear as we grind against each other. Not with the way he’s cupping my damp pussy as his thumb takes over my clit. It feels incredible. Addicting . I know I’m only going to want more and more and more . And from where I stand, encapsulated by his large hand, it seems like a risk worth taking.

I’m falling apart in his palm, and I haven’t even felt his lips against mine.

“You have five minutes,” he rasps, his other hand coming off the door to grab my waist as he rubs himself against me. “Five minutes before people start filing in here. I need you to come, Finley.”

The only response I can give him is a moan as I bite down on my lip, the butterflies spiraling in my core, fluttering up through my chest and my limbs, filling my lungs as they replace the oxygen I’m trying so desperately to find.

This only encourages him as he circles his thumb faster, his other hand gripping my waist, tugging me against him as he grinds into my ass.

“You’re so fucking wet. Soaking through these panties, Princesa .”

I’ve never had an orgasm from someone’s fingers alone, but with Luca grunting and moaning heavily in my ear, it doesn't take long for the coil to tighten in my core. I feel like a ticking time bomb, seconds away from exploding as the pressure builds inside me.

“Luca, please ,” I whine.

“My name sounds so pretty coming from your lips,” he coos, nipping at my earlobe.

Despite only rubbing each other through our clothes, it feels like the most carnal thing I’ve ever experienced. Every hair on my body is pricked with goosebumps, my body’s reaction to the way my orgasm teeters on the precipice—ready to bubble over, sending me over the edge and into oblivion.

“Let me hear it again,” he pleads. “I want to hear it as you come.”

My jaw is slack as the strangled moan of his name leaves my lips, my climax washing over me as I slam my head back into his broad shoulder. His name escapes my mouth again on the edge of a sigh, my chest heaving as I continue to roll my hips into him. Our bodies maneuver in sync as we pant shakily together.

My cheeks are flushed, my hair messy from rubbing against his shoulder, and I can feel the slick between my legs.

He only touched me on top of my panties, but somehow, I felt him everywhere.

“My next class,” Luca says, pulling his hands from me as he adjusts his disheveled clothing and hair. “They’ll be coming soon.”

I frown. “But…what about you ?”

As the clarity washes over me, so does the realization that he didn’t come with me. Every fiber of my being wants to hear what he sounds like when he comes.

“There’s no time.”

I hum gently as I watch him swiftly compose himself without looking at me. My high comes down, and I’m empty only momentarily before the dread takes place.

Running my fingers through my hair, I avert my gaze to my shoes as I brush some strands behind my ear. I quickly try to smooth out my skirt and blazer as I readjust the strap of my bag before I feel a tickle against my wrist, making me lift my head to stare up at Luca, who watches me closely. His fingers brush my skin ever so faintly, a reassuring but distant gesture.

He probably wants nothing to do with me.

He’s realized he’s made a mistake. Why can’t I?

“Are you okay?”

“Should I not be?” I ask softly.

“I want you to be.”

My mouth parts in awe at his words, not expecting them in the slightest. They’re nearly the last thing I thought would leave his lips, and it sends a warm current rippling through the pits of my stomach. Like someone has lit a match inside me.

“I’m okay.” I nod, blinking up at him. “Are you?”

“ Sí .”

“You don’t seem okay,” I rasp, biting at the inside of my cheek.

“If we get caught…” He trails off. “We can’t get caught, Finley. This… It can’t happen again.”

My mind, my body , is still reeling from what just happened. I can practically still feel his fingers between my legs. All these things that made me feel good made him full of regret. He regrets me.

“Right,” I manage to croak out, placing my hand on the door to steady myself as well as flee.

His hands halt me, and for a moment, my heart skips from his touch—until I realize that he’s smoothing out my blazer and gently combing his fingers through the ends of my hair to tame it. And for some reason, the stinging feeling of rejection consumes me, the feeling of not being good enough. I know he’s right—this was a monumentally bad choice, but my chest seizes at the thought of him never touching me again.

“ Aquí tiene ,” he murmurs. “That’s better.”

I gape at him meekly before clamping my mouth shut and swallowing. His expression is back to being unreadable, and any trace of what I saw before—that affection, that want —is long gone.

“Thanks,” I mutter, but it’s still pitiful-sounding.

“See you Friday.”

It’s a dismissal, one I don’t dare question before I’m fleeing the classroom and down the hallway. My feet move quickly as my vision blurs, and as a couple of tears escape down my cheeks, it doesn’t even matter, because it’s raining again. I can walk across campus and cry as much as I want without anyone even noticing.

So I do.