A heavy warmth pulls me in, wrapping around me, tightening till the lines of my body blur and I don’t know what’s me. The light of the day is slow to burn away the haze of my mind.
I crack my eyes open, the bright sun streaks on the ceiling where it sneaks through the top of the dark curtains. The hum of the fan almost lulls me back into slumber. But the heat around me snaps me awake, and at the same time, it invites me to relax.
I stay still, taking inventory. I’m on my back. Andrew’s arm is under me and wraps around my shoulder. His other arm drapes over my middle, his hand curling on my side in a light grip. But it’s his leg that traps me, crossed over my own.
His body is a furnace, but despite the heat, my skin goose bumps as my stomach dips with memories. I’d offered myself to him, but I’m still fully clothed in last night’s jeans and sweater. The stale smell of alcohol seeping from my pores only makes the spinning worse.
As I try to rise, Andrew’s hands clamp down, holding me in place. But he keeps that same quiet look on his beautiful face, his strong jaw soft in sleep, except he isn’t sleeping. His fingers un-flex and coast slow and light over me, over my clothes, only moving up and down as far as his fingers can reach without moving his arms.
“Drew?” My voice comes out raspy.
His eyebrows lift and the corner of his mouth turns up, but he doesn’t say anything. His fingers on my shoulder slip into my hair, turning circles in the strands.
I’m torn between wanting to stay just like this and wanting to run and hide before he can see me.
I don’t move. I take advantage of his closed eyes and drink him in. While I’m fully clothed, he’s not, and the sheets only cover us from the waist down. He’s on his side, his bare chest pressed against me, so heartbreakingly perfect and defined. Lean and strong. The ink cutting across him entices me. I want to trace it, follow the lines like a map that could lead me to understanding him, understanding the way he makes me feel, understanding why I can’t stay away.
My heart stretches to near snapping just thinking of staying away. Somewhere along the line he’s taken it, or I’ve given it like a fool. And waking up like this, in his arms, brings all those feelings to the surface.
His hand flexes on my ribs, massaging and pulling me closer at the same time. My body follows his demands, on the verge of shattering. I roll to my side so we’re flush against each other, my face at the crook of his neck. His smell surrounds me, and I want to inhale him. His arms wrap around me, crossing to hold me tight as he rests his chin on the top of my head.
“Don’t wake up yet. Let’s go back to sleep,” he speaks it with a hopeless regret that makes me curl up closer, denying the daylight, clinging to this intimacy.
“I don’t want to get up yet, either.”
His chest sinks in and stomach tightens as my palms graze his sides, sliding around him. He speaks with little air, “How do you feel?”
“Okay.” But my heart’s beating at the speed of hummingbird wings, about to take flight at all our hesitation, all our uncertainty in the moment. I close my eyes and swirl my fingertips over his back, absorbing the warmth of him. “How do you feel?”
“I’m good, baby. But last night—”
“Oh God.” I sit up and sweep my legs off the bed.
“Brook, it’s okay.” He grips my wrist before I can rise to my feet.
“I have to use the restroom,” I mumble and he lets me go.
I escape to the hall bathroom and close myself in. I made a fool of myself, throwing myself at him, but too drunk to even stay awake for it. Kyle was right; I’d never please him.
I wipe last night’s mascara from under my eyes and rinse my mouth with water from the sink, but my embarrassment only grows. I’m making it worse by delaying.
He’s staring at the ceiling, lying on top of the sheets now in only his grey boxer briefs. When I walk in, he sits up.
“Brook—”
“I’m sorry, can we just forget about last night?”
“What do you want to forget?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Everything.”
Hiss sharp intake of breath cuts me, and I lift my gaze. “Why?”
“I fell asleep on you. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. It’s so messed up.” Shame makes me want to disappear.
“Come back over here, sit down.” He pats the mattress beside him. “Please.”
I don’t resist, and when I sit, he grabs my hand.
“I brought you here to sleep, that’s it. And I enjoyed every minute of it.”
I’m unable to read his soft grin. “What are you doing with me? I don’t understand. Why did you show up late last night, if not for something more? I was ready. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I do.” His next breath is painful. “But you deserve better than that.”
Too many thoughts strangle me, and I can’t speak. Panic that he may be ending this just when I’m willing to give in.
“I know I messed up.” He drops his eyes to our joined hands in his lap. “And you deserve someone better. You deserve to be treated better. Much better.”
“Why can’t that be you?” I swallow the hurt burning my throat.
“I want it to be,” it’s barely a whisper. He lifts his gaze to mine and I’m frozen in the space of his next breath, waiting for more. “I want to do better, for you. I want to try.”
The air is thin but bright, and I don’t dare breathe in the hope or fear that I’m hearing wrong. I have to be misunderstanding him. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” his smile stretches till his dimples show, and he slides his other hand into my hair, fingers curling around the back of my neck, “dates and real talks and whatever else it is that people in relationships do. Whatever it is you need to trust me. Whatever it is I need to do so you’ll sleep in my arms again.”
“A real relationship?”
“Keep being patient with me, though. Talk to me.”
I’m on a knife’s edge, pain no matter which way I step.
“Are you okay? Is this not what you want anymore?”
“No, it’s not that, I’m just—surprised. Why now? You didn’t call, and then last night—”
He drops his hold on me and takes a deep breath. “After last week, I knew I had to make a choice. I would have said something after you came to the football field, but you left, and then I didn’t call because I wanted to be sure things could be better.”
“So last night…”
“Last night, I had to find you.”
“But you didn’t want to have sex?” I poke at the still fresh bruise to my ego, unable to look at him when I ask. This Drew didn’t seem like the same Drew.
He snatches me in his arms lightning quick. “Baby, of course I do.” He nuzzles into my neck as he pulls me into his warm body. “But you were drunk. If I thought you actually meant it, and wouldn’t wake up regretting it, I would have been inside you in an instant. It was hard to turn down—” his chest shakes against mine as he laughs. “Literally hard. But I couldn’t risk it.”
“I did mean it,” I whisper into his hair, and I think he stops breathing, his head stills mid kiss on my neck. “It’s easier to say when I’m drunk.”
My bodies buzzing with the rush of my decision, at the leap I know I’m taking. I may never have acted the way I did last night if I hadn’t been drinking, but the decision was still my own, and after what he’s said this morning, I know it is what I want. I’d been regretting not doing this all week, when I thought I wouldn’t have another chance. And now that he’s offering me more. This is the only way for me to know if he’s real or not. Before I get any deeper, before I give him any more of my heart, I’ll give him my body and see if he uses it—like my fears still warn me he will.
But as he pulls back and looks me over, his green eyes are lit with questions and a swirl of emotions flit across his face. “Well damn. I was trying to be good, for you. But I really wish I knew that last night.”
I don’t know if he actually gets it. So with a pounding pulse, I press my palms to his bare chest and glide them up to his neck in a slow and soft caress as I move closer. My leg slides over his lap and his excitement grows against me, giving me confidence. “You know now, though.”
He drags his thumb over my bottom lip, keeping me from kissing him and teasing me at the same time. “Are you sure, baby? You seem… nervous.”
“I am.” I shrug one shoulder and thread my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “It’s my first time. But I’m sure, so kiss me.”
He does. His lips cover mine and his tongue sweeps into my mouth in a cool, minty kiss. But as he lowers me to the bed, pressing me to the mattress with his body, and his hands slide up my shirt, fires ignite where he touches, and the heat of him consumes me.
I interrupt the kiss to slide my shirt over my head, pulling him to me, craving his skin against mine. He moves slow, hands trailing along my stomach and back, and then the clasp of my bra gives. He kisses down my neck, and the tips of his fingers slide my bra down my arms in a whisper.
My certainty wavers the lower his hands get, the closer we get. Nerves rise in my gut, clashing with the sensations he causes with his touch, his lips. I started this but am unsure how to be what he wants, how to please him. I’m frozen, letting him take control, but it’s Kyle’s voice in my head warning me that I can’t please him.
But when his mouth finds my nipple, all voices stop, and all doubt ceases. Sensation takes over. It all centers on him. My hands clamp on his shoulders as he plays with me. Pleasure shoots through me, building in my core, and my hips rock under him.
He squeezes my breast together, slipping his tongue between them and then to the next nipple. My hands slide down the firm muscles of his back and under the elastic of his boxers, grazing the top curve of his butt, it’s solid and round, but my arms can’t reach further.
The way he licks and sucks and nibbles is driving me wild, and I wrap my legs around his back, giving in to the need of pulling him closer, pulling him in. My body demands it.
His hands slide up my legs, and my chest aches to get them back. But he unwraps my legs from him and holds my thighs to the bed as he kisses down my stomach, till his lips hit the edge of my jeans. He dips his tongue under the waistband as his fingers jump to the buttons.
But it’s his stare that slows me down. He locks his gaze with me, his eyes fevered bright as he slides my pants down my legs.
“These are nice.” He runs his fingers along the edge of my lace underwear but doesn’t break his stare to look at them.
I have to look away when his finger slips past the thin material and plunges into me without warning. My body pulls tight, and I close my eyes with a moan as he continues his skillful touches.
“So pretty,” he murmurs as he slides my underwear down my thighs and they disappear. “So sexy,” his breath hits my inner thigh, and I melt with desire. “And it’s all mine.”
He pulls my hips with his hands, lifting my center to his lips. Within moments he has me shaking and spinning. And I want more. I want him to fill me completely, to shatter me. I want everything.
I pull on his shoulders, maybe I’m begging for him, but I can’t hear it. There’s nothing besides this hunger, this desire surging through me.
He’s hovering over me, body everywhere, but no weight on me. Except there. I can feel the tip of him between my legs, pressing, rubbing my slickness.
“Brook.”
I open my eyes, but I’m clinging to him. He uses one hand to cup my face and lifts off of me some.
“Look at me. You’re sure?”
He’s so still, and I take a second to still myself in the chaos. He’s naked, over me, every muscle in his body tight and ready, so much restrained power radiating from him. I nod with a held breath.
But he barely moves. The searing heat between my legs is slow as he presses forward, and I bite down the cry at the pain. It’s not that bad, but it’s uncomfortable and new.
“Are you okay?” His question is strained.
“Are you all the way in?” I pat at his back, unsure what to do with my hands, antsy to do something, to grip something, to bite down.
“Almost.” But he’s not moving.
I grip his shoulders, the muscles there vibrating. “Keep going.”
That burning continues, increasing till I think I may break. Every part of me is touched, stretched, on fire.
He drops some of his weight onto me and buries his head in my hair, pressing against my neck. “Aw, tell me when you’re ready. When I can move.”
I take a few breaths, trying to adjust to the pressure, but I don’t. I can’t. It’s not all bad though and my hips ache for something. When his fingers slide between us and hit that sensitive spot at the top of my sex, the pain eases into pleasure, and my body gives him permission to move with a rock of my hips.
He’s cautious and slow, following the rhythm I create, a rhythm that straddles pain and pleasure. And my cries are a mixture of both. He keeps the pain down with soft kisses to my neck, and chin, and then my lips. The taste of myself on him doesn’t last long as his tongue circles in my mouth with intensity and care.
It’s all so slow and overwhelming. His breaths rasp and muscles are taut as he rocks his hips into me over and over, straining with his control. His slow pace eases into something harder, faster—something I can’t keep up with, and it’s only the edge of his power. His tight leash on his strength scares and thrills. I can only grip him and hang on, biting his shoulder, close to crying out from the intensity. And then he locks up, holding his hips deep in me as his muscles release and twitch under my palms. I can feel him shaking inside me.
I lay still as he pulls out, but then a terrifying thought rips through me. “We didn’t use protection.”
He sits up and reaches into a drawer beside his bed, pulling out something, maybe a shirt. “Yeah I did.” He unrolls a condom from his still semi hard erection and then wraps it in a napkin before throwing it away in the bin beside his nightstand. I’m near tears with relief, over everything. “Here.” He lies on his stomach and brings the soft material between my legs, swiping up the stickiness I feel there.
“I’ll do that.” I take it from him, cheeks burning as I sit up. “I’m going to use your bathroom.” I stand from the bed, picking up my clothes from the floor, nerves consuming the pleasure I had felt.
“Wait.” He stands up, completely nude, and I can’t look, suddenly shy when I shouldn’t be. “Don’t get dressed, just put this on.” He grabs another shirt from his drawer and slides it over my head. “And come back quick.” He kisses my nose and then flops back on the bed, naked body stretched out.
I thread my arms through his large shirt, it covers me to my knees, but I keep the underwear in my hand as I hurry to the bathroom. Locked inside, I stare at my reflection, questioning the morning. I didn’t look different. I didn’t really feel different. But everything in that room felt different. And not just because we had sex—he’s offering a relationship.
I clean myself up. There’s some blood, not a lot, but I need a shower. It’ll have to wait till I get back to the dorms, though. I don’t want him to kick me out; I need to leave before he does. I should have brought my clothes in the bathroom. I suck in a breath, calming my rising nerves, and go to face him.
The sheets are off his bed, piled in the corner. He has the comforter spread out over his mattress, and he’s on top, boxers on, hand extended to me. “Come here and lay with me a little longer.”
I take the invite, a little longer, and scoot next to him on his bed. His hand glides up and down my arm in silence. But there are too many questions in the silence; it’s too loud.
“Don’t you have practice or something?” I question, remembering how he left early the other week.
“Later. Coach set it up for this afternoon this time.” He pulls me in even closer. “Too many people weren’t performing at early weekend practices.” His hands are soft on me, but I can’t relax and he notices. “Are you okay? Was that okay?”
“You tell me. Was it okay?” I shake my head and hide my face in his chest, unable to fight all the insecurity rising to the surface. “No, never mind. I don’t want to know.” He’s had so many, and I know I wasn’t exciting. And I only make it worse with these questions.
“Brook, baby, that was amazing. It…It was your first time, and that’s going to be a little awkward, and probably didn’t feel that great. I tried to go slow, to not hurt you—”
“It’s okay.” I want to reassure him.
“—But I meant it when I said I’ll be your best. It’ll get better, and I’m looking forward to showing you new things. Knowing that I’m the only one that’s been inside you, the only one to touch you like that, to feel you—”
“Stop,” I plead as he kisses my neck in between declarations.
He pulls away to look at me, worry creasing his brows. “What?”
“I don’t know. The way you’re talking, it’s…” Making me think you really only want my body and nothing else. But I don’t voice my fear, that’s the risk I’d taken. “You still want a relationship, right?”
“I meant what I said this morning, this doesn’t change that.” He pulls me into the crook of his arm, where my body fits and forms with his. “You don’t like the way I talk about you?”
I close my eyes, calming myself with the sound of his heart under my ear. “I actually do like the way you talk most of the time,” I admit with a small smile. “But not now, please. I want to feel that this maybe meant something to you, too.”
“It did,” he reassures, kissing my hair. “This is new to me, too. How about no more talking, and I just hold you for a while?”
I snuggle into his side, agreeing with my silence. After a moment, his warmth pulls me under, and I fall back to sleep.
The TV’s on when I wake up, a flat screen against the wall opposite his bed. But he’s still got me in his arms and smiles at me as I look to him.
“What time is it?” I stretch as best as I can, still in his hold.
“Almost noon.” His gaze is so soft as it flicks over my body.
The shirt I’m wearing is bunched to the top of my legs, and I pull it down to cover my underwear.
“Too late for that.” He pats my butt with a grin. “You hungry?”
I’m not sure if he’s making a dirty joke or not, and it must show on my face because he laughs.
“TJ’s picking up pizza on his way home. He should be here soon.”
“Oh.” I sit up. I need to get dressed. I need to shower. “I should probably go.”
He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and places a kiss on my neck. “If you want, I can take you home.”
“Okay.” I turn in his arms, my gaze swiping across him, but it catches on his shoulder. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it before. Three red slashes against the dark ink of his upper right arm. The centerline deeper and longer than the outside two, all three parallel. Scratches. My hand goes to them, and I twist out of his hold. “What happened?”
He pulls away and covers them with his hand, eyes dropping. “Something stupid.”
His response sets off alarms, and I stand up. “Someone scratched you?”
He nods, still sitting on the bed, cautious eyes on me. But I’m not letting him out.
“Who?”
“Tatum,” he sighs and drops his hand. Those angry marks burn in my mind.
“When? Why?” I need more than a one word response. The ground under me cracks, and Kyle’s warning is back in my head, he likes their fights.
His jaw flexes in a slow clench, and his voice comes out cold, “Last night. She misunderstood.”
“What does that mean?” I cross my arms, protecting myself.
“I’ve been telling her the past couple of weeks that things are different. But last night she thought I’d changed my mind. But she thought wrong, and when she realized the truth, she broke down.” He stands up and steps towards me. “I don’t know what you’ll hear about last night, you probably already have messages on your phone, but I only talked with her. That’s it. I left with her to keep others from seeing her like that, but that’s all. I came to you last night because I knew then I had to tell you. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
I didn’t even know where my phone was to check it. I left it last night, he knew that. And I’d left without telling anyone, too. I shake away those thoughts to focus on him. “Wrong idea about what? You and her? What is it between you two?”
“She’s—her family’s—they’re always going to be a part of my life. I owe them a lot, but I don’t owe them my future. I know that now. She’s having a hard time accepting it, but she’s going to. I just need you to trust me on this.” He grabs my hand in his. “Can you do that?”
I watch his thumb moving over the back of my hand and nod. “But, can you tell me more? Help me understand?”
“It’s a long story and you said you needed to go home.” He grips my hand when I try to pull it away. “Do you want to hear it now or later?”
“Now.” I’m sure of that. Everything else can wait.
