Chapter 1- Moans Next Door

SAMANTHA’S POV

“Yes! Fuck me harder!”

The moan ripped through the thin wall like it belonged right next to my bed. I sat still with my book still open on my lap, heart beating rapidly against my ribs.

Another groan followed, deep and male this time, then the steady thump of a headboard hitting the wall.

“Oh shit, you’re so tight,” the guy growled.

I squeezed my thighs together without thinking. Heat rushed between my legs, sudden and embarrassing. My nipples tightened under my thin tank top. I tried to focus on the words in front of me, some analysis of Jane Eyre, but the sounds kept coming. Wet, sloppy, rhythmic, and real.

I pressed my palm against my stomach and breathed out slow. My roommate Angelina was out partying again, so it was just me and these damn walls. The girl next door cried out louder, begging for it, and my body answered with a throb I couldn’t ignore. My hand slid down before I could stop it, fingertips brushing the edge of my shorts.

No. I snatched my hand back like I’d touched fire.

I slammed the book shut. This was ridiculous. I was twenty, still a virgin, and listening to strangers have sex like some pervert. My face burned. I needed to get out. Now.

I yanked on jeans and a hoodie, stuffed my notes and laptop into my bag, and slipped out of the room without even fixing my hair. The hallway smelled like cheap perfume and instant noodles. I practically ran down the stairs and across campus, cool night air hitting my flushed cheeks. The library stayed open twenty-four hours during midterms, so it would be quiet and safe.

I found my usual corner on the second floor, dropped my bag, and spread my notes across the table. There was peace for ten minutes, then I heard footsteps.

“Watch it,” a deep voice said.

A tall guy reached past me for a book on the top shelf. His arm knocked my carefully stacked notes straight onto the floor. Pages scattered everywhere.

“Hey!” I snapped, dropping to my knees to grab them.

He didn’t even move to help at first. Just stood there in his basketball hoodie, looking down at me with this lazy smirk. He had dark hair, a sharp jaw, and eyes that scanned me like he was sizing up something interesting.

“Relax, sweetheart. It’s just paper…” he finally crouched and picked up one sheet, glancing at it before handing it over. “… not the end of the world.”

I snatched it from his fingers, our hands brushing. A stupid spark shot up my arm, but I quickly ignored it.

“Some of us actually care about our grades,” I said, standing up fast. “Not everyone gets by on sports scholarships and good looks.”

He raised an eyebrow, still crouched a little, looking up at me now. “Good looks, huh? So you noticed.”

My mouth fell open. “I didn’t… that’s not what I meant.”

He rose to his full height. God, he was tall. Wesley. I suddenly remembered seeing him around campus. He was Wesley Adams, the guy half the girls whispered about in the hostel corridors.

“I’m Wesley,” he said, like I should already know. He leaned one hip against my table, messing up the little order I’d just fixed. “And you are?”

“Samantha Williams. And I’d appreciate it if you moved. Some of us came here to actually study.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he picked up another one of my pages, this time reading it properly. “Postcolonial lit? Sounds boring as hell. You always this wound up, Samantha?”

The way he said my name sent another unwanted pulse through me. I hated it. I hated how aware I felt of my body after what I’d heard earlier, and now this arrogant ass was standing too close.

“Are you always this rude?” I shot back. “Or do you just enjoy knocking girls’ stuff on the floor so you can watch them bend over?”

His eyes flashed with something hot. He stepped closer. “Careful. I might start thinking you want me to watch.”

Heat flooded my face. I could still hear those moans in my head, and now my traitor brain swapped the stranger’s voice for his, deep, rough, and commanding.

“Back off,” I said, but my voice came out breathier than I wanted.

Wesley tilted his head, looking at me as if he could read every dirty thought I was trying to hide. “You ran out of your room looking all flushed. What happened? Bad date? Or maybe you heard something you shouldn’t have?”

My stomach dropped. Could he know? No way. But the smirk on his face made my skin prickle.

“That’s none of your business,” I hissed. I grabbed the last of my papers and tried to shove them into my bag, but my hands shook a little.

He caught my wrist gently, stopping me. His fingers were warm and strong. “You’re interesting when you’re pissed off, Samantha Williams.”

I yanked my hand free, even though part of me didn’t want to. “And you’re exactly the kind of guy I stay away from. Now leave me alone so I can study.”

Wesley didn’t leave. He just crossed his arms and watched me try to reorganize everything, that smirk still playing on his lips. “What if I don’t?”

My heart raced. Anger and something else twisted together low in my belly. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could go when my phone buzzed on the table. Angelina’s name flashed.

I ignored it, but Wesley glanced at the screen, then back at me, eyes narrowing with new curiosity.

“Who’s calling you this late?” he asked, voice dropping lower. “Boyfriend?”

“None of your damn business,” I said again, but I didn’t sound as sure this time.

He leaned in, close enough that I caught the clean scent of his soap. “You sure about that? Because the way you’re looking at me says you might need someone to help you… relax.”

My breath caught. The library suddenly felt too warm, too small. I wanted to slap that smirk off his face. I also wanted to know what his mouth would feel like on mine.

I stepped back, grabbing my bag. “Stay away from me, Wesley Adams.”

I turned to leave, but his voice followed me, low and sure.

“You’ll see me around, Samantha. Something tells me you won’t be able to avoid it.”

I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole way down the aisle. My body still hummed from the earlier sounds, from his touch, from the way he said my name. And as I pushed through the library doors into the night, I knew one thing for sure.

I was in trouble.