Touch Me

Touch Me Dorian University Book 2 Meagan C. Matthew Copyright Copyright © 2023 by Meagan C. Matthew All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [include publisher/author contact info]. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. First released April 2023 ISBN: 9798986523422 Book Cover: Books and Moods Editing: Brittni Van with Overbooked Author Services Editing: Erica with Logophile Editing Services Authors Note I personally prefer my readers to go in blind, however, I understand and fully support the importance of my readers mental and emotional health. This book contains topics that might be difficult for some readers. For a complete list, please visit: Meagan C Matthew Website Contents Prologue 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24 25. Chapter 25 26. Chapter 26 27. Chapter 27 28. Chapter 28 29. Chapter 29 30. Chapter 30 31. Chapter 31 32. Chapter 32 33. Chapter 33 34. Chapter 34 35. Chapter 35 36. Chapter 36 37. Chapter 37 38. Chapter 38 Prologue Lincoln My eyes have been bouncing from person to person for the last thirty minutes. I lean against the wall to my left, chugging the last of the beer from the amber bottle. Black and white photos cover the walls, people slowly walking around sipping on champagne, staring at them. I’m only here to support my best friend, Weston. He put this showcase together as a final project in hopes of winning an internship with the college’s artist program. I’m ready to get out of here, but my eyes scan the room for her one more time. A familiar itch crawls up my spine, I’ve been on high alert since she walked through the door. It’s just as irritating as it is gratifying, the effect she has on me. Something I’ll never admit out loud. I’m looking for a long black dress with a slit that goes so high up the thigh, that my fucking mouth waters. Two inches higher and you’d be able to see what kind of underwear she is wearing. Deep pink, if I had to guess. To match her shoes, that match her stupid little hand purse thing, that matches her lipstick. She’s absolutely fucking flawless. This woman has been driving me crazy for months. I’m not usually the type of guy that gets struck by a woman. I tried the girlfriend thing once, and that lasted all of six months. The relationship stuff never really appealed to me. The snuggling, the holding hands, the public displays of affection. Having to check your schedule with someone else before doing whatever the fuck you wanted to. The way men and women crumble over each other. Letting love distract themselves from life. How they tear themselves apart and become some sad tortured mess without the other person. I watched my guy Weston go through it last spring. He fell for his sister’s roommate and couldn’t find it in him to admit it to himself. He was constantly finding excuses to spend time with this girl and then boom, they had one fight and that was it. Drama. Everything ended up working out, now they’re this picture perfect happy couple. It’s nice to see him happy, but I watched the back and forth. It just made me realize I don’t want it, or the commitment. I’d rather just be alone. I’m not judging those that do, whatever floats your boat. But, that’s not me. Friends with benefits, that’s more my speed. But when it comes to this girl, my mind races a mile a minute. Wondering what she likes or needs at any moment. What’s her favorite drink? Does she enjoy books? What’s her favorite movie? Does she think about me like this? Then it wanders to prohibited territory like, what does she look like under that dress? Does she moan when you kiss that soft spot on her neck? What does she sound like when she’s trying to catch her breath after an orgasm? Or what does she taste like? Why am I going to hell for thinking any of this? Because she’s my best friend’s little sister. I wouldn’t even be thinking these things if it weren’t for the seed she planted in my head three months ago. She’s always been gorgeous, I’m not oblivious to my attraction to her, but the idea of her as anything more than my best friend’s sister never even crossed my mind. Not until she whispered those two tempting words while we were all out dancing one night. Touch me. Ever since that moment, whenever I think of Aubree Baine, I think of those two words and all of the ways that I could. She’s trying to wear me down. She shamelessly flirts with me when no one is watching. She makes suggestions she knows I have to turn down. No matter the subtle responses of indifference I’ve given her, she doesn’t back down. She’s fiery and resilient, strong but also mysterious. I shouldn’t ever touch her, let alone be thinking about all the different ways that I could. Because believe me, I’d do so much more than touch her, I would ruin her. And she would revel in every minute of it, begging for more. That’s not something I’d be able