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am I doing, what am I doing, what the fuck am I doing? The thought is like a train, rushing, no end to it that I can see. I curl my fingers over his and push them inside my panties. Against my clit.
    “Oh...yes.” The words slip out unbidden, but completely sincere. I shift a little so he can push his fingers inside me.
    “Oh, shit,” Will mutters. “Goddamn.”
    I wriggle out of my panties as he pushes down his briefs and jeans. Straddling him again, I take his cock at the base and rub the head of him against my slick, wet opening. Over my clit in small, tight circles.
    We both groan. I rub myself on his cock, or rub his cock on me, I can’t tell the difference anymore. All I feel is his hard flesh on mine and the spiraling, tightening coil of pleasure. I’m going to come before I even put him inside me.
    I move up, just a little, one hand on his shoulder, the other still gripping his cock to hold him steady while I fit myself over him. Slowly, so slowly, I ease myself down until he’s inside me all the way. I can’t move. I can’t think. My fingers have left red marks on his skin, but I can’t even make myself let go.
    Will puts his hands on my hips, under my dress. On my bare skin. He moves. He shifts. He pushes inside me, just a little deeper than I thought he could go. Then out.
    We move together, then, perfectly in sync. We find a rhythm, set a pace. Everything is slip and slide, no bad friction. My clit hits his pelvis every time I move, but that’s not quite enough, so I use my hand. I know how my body works. My fingers tweak at my clit, small circles. Then I’m up, up, up and over. Everything tenses. Releases.
    Will cries out, low, a murmur of blue and green and gold. The syllables of my name float between us. I have never seen my name that way, in those colors, not from any other voice. I feel him throb inside me. That’s never happened, either. It might be my imagination. I don’t care. I watch his mouth open.
    Everything slows. The beat of our hearts. Our breathing. I lean to press my forehead to his shoulder. I trace the bird with my fingertip and taste salt when I kiss him there.
    I get off him. Find my panties and pull them on. I turn to give him privacy as he pulls up his briefs and jeans, but he’s still shirtless when he touches my shoulder to turn me. I’m not sure what to say or where to look.
    “I really should go,” I tell him.
    He walks me to the door, where we do not kiss. We don’t even hug. I offer him my hand to shake, and he takes it with a low laugh and a quirk of one brow, but he doesn’t question it. His hand is strong and warm. It squeezes mine.
    Then he lets me go.

Chapter Five
    I didn’t like Naveen the first time I met him. He was charming and full of himself, a shameless flirt. I guess you could say his sin was that he came on to my roommate before he hit on me, even though I had a boyfriend at the time. That relationship wasn’t working out so well, but even so I wasn’t supposed to care if other boys tried to make me laugh or not.
    I’d just met my roommate, Wendi, that day. We’d spoken on the phone once or twice and exchanged a letter, our conversations limited to what we’d each be bringing to the dorm room. Wendi had a fridge. I had a small TV with rabbit ears. We both liked Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls and the color purple, though she was way more interested in coordinating our bedding than I was. We’d already agreed to bunk our beds and switch off who got the top bunk by semester. Wendi was a big girl, buxom and curvy, with lots of red hair and black eyeliner. So far I liked her, even though all the guys at this freshman mixer kept checking her out and ignoring me.
    “Hey, ladies. I’m Naveen.” He leaned over the registration table, both hands flat on it. Instead of the T-shirt and jeans most of the other guys were wearing, he wore a pale pink dress shirt, open so far at the throat I could glimpse a hint of his nipples. “Have you signed up