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"They should teach this in class," Harry whispered as Brooklyn and him pulled away to catch their breath. "French kissing this good is a skill."

"I'm sure I've had better," Brooklyn shrugged.

"Don't lie to me," Harry growled and leaned in again.

Brooklyn moaned softly and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck. Their lips moved in sync, their tongues brushing each other's.

They had yet to achieve much studying.

Harry slowly moved his hands down to Brooklyn's jean skirt and paused, waiting to see if Brooklyn pushed him away.

She didn't.

Harry easily undid the button and tugged them down, pulling her underwear down at the same time. Within seconds they were on the floor and Brooklyn grabbed Harry's tshirt, lifting it up above his head. Harry's jeans were gone next, and then he was straddling Brooklyn, kissing her neck, nibbling her collarbone on the spot where his mark would one day lay.

"Stop kissing me and take your freaking underwear off!" Brooklyn huffed and pulled at the waistline of