Rough and Tumble

by Shae Connor

  “There.” I stand and hold my arms out to the sides. “Do I pass muster?”

  Darryn snickers. “You might want to do something about the hair.”

  Whoops. I can just imagine what it looks like, considering I barely toweled it dry after my shower this morning and probably ran my hands through it in all directions all afternoon while studying. Sure enough, the small mirror on the closet door tells a tale of infinite woe. Thankfully, a comb, a little control paste, and some well-practiced finger work gets it in manageable condition without too much trouble.

  “All right, now I’m ready.” I turn back toward Darryn with a smile, only to find him watching me, eyes soft.

  He bites his lower lip and nods. “You look great.” He holds my gaze for a few seconds, making my heart and mind race, before he smiles. “Let’s go have some good food.”

  …

  I pull up in front of the restaurant Darryn directed me to and give him a sidelong look as I put the car in park. “Nice place.”

  Darryn glances my way. “I’ve never been. It had great reviews online.” He reaches for his seat belt and winces, so I gently nudge his hand away and push the button to release the belt.

  “Thanks.” Darryn tilts his face up toward mine, bare inches away, and only sheer willpower keeps me from leaning even closer.

  “No problem,” I say as I move away and reach for my door handle. “Let’s see if this place lives up to its online reputation.”

  Darryn meets me at the front of the car and leads the way inside, although he does let me handle the door without comment. At the host stand, he gives his name, and moments later, we’re being escorted to a table for two tucked away in a corner. The restaurant is definitely fancy, despite all Darryn’s protests otherwise. Granted, I haven’t eaten in anything nicer than a Cheesecake Factory in a couple of years, and that only because Mom loves it, so we usually go for her birthday.

  This place is different. It’s all low lighting, soft music, candles on each table, with crisp white tablecloths and napkins and servers in near formalwear—black slacks and vests, white dress shirts, and bowties. I’m a little afraid to look at the prices on the menu. I glance around and see most other tables are occupied by couples, or at least, people who appear to be couples.

  This isn’t the kind of place you take just-a-friend for a simple thank you dinner.

  “Relax,” Darryn murmurs once we’re seated with the menus in front of us. “It’s just us.”

  I must be broadcasting my uncertainty. Sure, it’s just us, with a setting as thoroughly romantic as this and several hours of high-end dinner service to get through without making myself look like an idiot.

  I blow out a long breath and pick up the menu. It’s in English, at least, and the prices are high but not ridiculous. That helps me settle a little. It’s a start.

  Okay, maybe this is a date. I can deal with that. Never mind the buzzing that’s back in my stomach and the sudden clammy palms at the thought that Darryn is taking me out on a date. I’m still playing this the same way. It’s Darryn’s game, and he decides what happens next.

  All I can do is try not to screw things up.

  We place our orders quickly, and Darryn fills what might have been an awkward silence—for me, at least—by telling me about the package of Japanese treats his mother’s family sent them as a New Year’s gift. I’d experienced some of their family’s traditions on New Year’s Eve, but Darryn tells me that, instead of sending the traditional money, his family filled the envelopes with notes of well-wishes. The rest of the box had been packed with all kinds of Japanese candies and snacks.

  By the time Darryn finishes describing the different kinds of treats and promises me a few samples, our meals are nearly finished, though it feels as if no time has passed at all. Our server approaches to refill our water glasses, and as she walks away to get our check at Darryn’s request, Darryn lifts his glass.

  “I know it’s corny,” he says, “but I want to make a toast. To you. For being a good friend.”

  My face heats but I lift my glass anyway. “Same to you.”

  We clink glasses and sip, gazes meeting in the flickering candlelight. Warmth pools low in my belly, and the longing I’d kept pushed down for months rises back to the surface. He needs a good friend. I’ve been trying to keep my mind focused on that thought, but knowing Darryn’s free of that asshole Rich is making it harder every day to keep my feelings to myself. I don’t want to rush him into anything. I said I’d wait for him, and that’s what I’ll do.

  The server returns with our check and Darryn makes quick work of payment. I resist the urge to offer to pay my share. He’d made it clear up front that he wanted dinner to be his treat, so I’ll let him. I’ll make sure I’m the one to take him out next time.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re back in our dorm room, and awkward doesn’t begin to cover how I feel. I still don’t know if that dinner was a date, but it felt enough like one that I’m not sure how to handle myself now, and Darryn isn’t offering any clues. I guess I should get ready for bed like I would any other night?

  I step over to my closet and toe out of my shoes, and I’m reaching for the buttons of my shirt—I can wear it at least one more time before it needs washing—when Darryn steps up behind me.

  Close behind me.

  “Grant, I—” His voice is low, husky. “I want you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darryn’s words send a jolt of lust mixed with fear through me. I pivot to face him, but before I can do anything more, he moves in close, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his body against mine. My arms come up automatically, and my hands tremble as I skim my fingers across his back.

  “Don’t ask me if I’m ready,” he murmurs against my ear. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not nervous, but I want this. I need this. Now. With you.”

  No pressure, I think, in the instant before he slides his mouth over mine. His kiss is soft but sure, his lips moving with gentle, insistent pressure. I open my mouth on a sigh of finally, and he takes the opportunity, bringing his tongue out to stroke lightly against mine. The light touches are intensely erotic, maybe more so than a hard, bruising kiss would have been, and my cock reacts quickly, plumping and filling between us. Darryn makes a low sound deep in his chest and rotates his hips, and I feel his hardness against mine.

  Oh my God. I can’t believe we’re actually here. I can’t believe I get to have this. Have Darryn.

  Somebody pinch me. I’ve gotta be dreaming.

  I’m trembling all over now, fighting to let him lead this slow, erotic dance. Unfortunately, my actual hands-on experience is limited to a few hurried kisses and one sloppy hand job with a random guy at a high school party. Even so, Darryn’s the vulnerable one here. I tamp down my eager body’s urge to take charge. This is Darryn’s show, and while I’m 1,000 percent in for whatever he wants, it’s about what he wants. Not about what my libido demands.

  Still, I can’t help the relief that washes through me when Darryn moans and kisses me harder. He slides his uninjured hand into my hair to hold me close, and I press mine into his back, one high between his shoulders and one low in the curve of his spine. His body molds to mine, and the only thing I want in the world at that moment more is the same position, only with fewer clothes.

  He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to move forward. I let myself relax into the embrace and just enjoy kissing him. It’s not exactly a hardship, especially not with him wrapped around me like a blanket, warm and solid. After a few more moments, though, my hand slides lower, onto the curve of his ass. It’s an unconscious movement, but it yields near-instant gratification when he moans again and presses back into the touch.

  He breaks away from our kiss and pins me with his gaze, pupils blown wide with desire.

  “I want to touch you,” he rasps, and he reaches for my shirt buttons.

/>   Even with the brace still on his wrist, his fingers are nimble, and he has my shirt open and pushed off almost before I can blink. My undershirt is gone almost as quickly, and Darryn spreads his hands out across my chest, ruffling the light dusting of red hair.

  He smiles up at me. “I guess the carpet matches the drapes?”

  He surprises a laugh out of me, and I slide both hands lower to squeeze his butt. Who cares that he’s seen it all in the locker room before? The teasing’s too much fun to spoil.

  “I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

  He bites his lower lip and pushes back against my grip again. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  He lowers his head to lick at my nipple, making my knees go weak. Damn, fuck, and hell. At this rate, we’re going to be lucky to get me out of my pants before I go off.

  As gently as I can manage, I push him away. “Too good,” I murmur, bending to press a kiss against his lips. “How about we get naked and get in bed? I don’t think my legs are gonna hold me up much longer.”

  Darryn laughs softly. “I can’t promise how long this’ll last once we get naked.”

  I kiss him again. “Me either, but it doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “Fast, slow, or anywhere in between. As long as it’s us.”

  His smile turns soft and he slides his hand around one of mine. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s be us, only naked and in bed.”

  “Deal.”

  He leads me to his bed, which, I realize, has clean sheets and fluffed pillows, not to mention a bottle of lube and a condom on the table nearby. I must have been distracted before we left, if I didn’t even notice him getting this ready. The sight of the supplies makes me tremble. Is he ready for that? Hell, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Does he even know I’m a virgin?

  Doesn’t matter. We’ll take this one step at a time. No one needs to get fucked tonight.

  No promises about tomorrow morning.

  Darryn drops my hand and strips off his shirt in a flurry of movement, bringing my attention back to that whole getting naked thing. “Race you,” I blurt out, and Darryn laughs again, a sound I’ll never get tired of. He’s got his shoes kicked off and his pants undone in about two seconds flat, and then I’m hurrying to catch up.

  Who wins? Who knows? I could not possibly care less, because Darryn is naked and hard in front of me, and nothing else matters. He takes my hand again and pulls me down onto the bed, lying back to let me roll on top of him. He slips his good hand between us to line up our cocks and then wraps both arms and legs around me.

  “God, you feel good.” I love the way his voice sounds, raspy and wrecked, but not half as much as I love the way his body feels.

  “Can’t get close enough,” I whisper back. Our mouths are a bare inch apart, our breath mingling. “Never close enough.”

  He leans up to capture my lips, and I fall in to him again, kissing him hard, tangling my hands in his hair. It takes me some fumbling to find a good angle to brace my knees against the mattress. When I do, I thrust against him, following the move with a deep grind that makes him jerk and moan deep in his chest. I do it again, thrust and grind, and he hikes his legs up higher, crossing his ankles over my ass and pushing me even harder against him.

  It’s not sex—or, at least, it’s not penetration—but it sure as hell feels like it. We find a rhythm by trial and error, friction balanced by the pre-come slicking between us. It’s not going to take me long to get there, not when I finally have what I’ve been wanting for so long. I want to take Darryn over the edge with me, but I can’t make myself let go of him long enough to get a hand between us to help.

  From the noises he’s making, I don’t know if that’ll be a problem, though. I have to pull away from his mouth to catch my breath. I bury my face into the crook of his neck and kiss and lick the tender skin there. That must work for him, too, because his sounds get louder and he tightens his arms and legs around me.

  “God. Grant.” He moans. “So fucking good.”

  “Yeah.” I thrust again, grind harder. “Wanna make you come.”

  “Close,” he breathes. “Just a little…”

  He fades out into another groan and his body starts to shake. I keep up the sweet pressure, rotating my hips in tiny circles, each movement sending another bolt of pleasure through me. I hope he’s feeling even half of what I am, because I’m about to break into a million tiny pieces.

  Then a guttural groan escapes his body, sounding as if it comes all the way from his toes. His fingernails and heels dig into my back, and he bites down on the meat of my shoulder. I last about two seconds before I follow him right over the edge.

  As I catch my breath, I manage to shift to the side to collapse onto the mattress and not Darryn. The last thing he needs is for me to reinjure anything. There’s not much room on the tiny bed, so I end up on my side, back to the cold wall. I hardly feel it, my skin still warm and tingling from my orgasm.

  An eon later, Darryn turns his head toward me, and our gazes meet. He studies me, eyes flicking back and forth, and he must like what he finds, because a slow, beautiful smile spreads across his face.

  “So,” he says, voice shaking like he’s holding back a laugh. “Was it good for you?”

  I growl and carefully clamber back on top of him, biting back a hiss as my still-sensitive cock brushes his skin. “If you have to ask…”

  The laugh breaks free. “Rhetorical question!” he gasps out as I slide my hands down his sides, light enough to tickle. He jerks and wriggles. “No tickling! Ahhh!”

  I snicker and roll back to the side, flopping against the wall, now feeling the chill from the wall and the come cooling on my stomach. “No tickling, check. Any other hard limits I should know about?”

  Darryn curls onto his side and reaches across the space between us to run his fingers across my chest. His injured wrist lies on the mattress. “Needles,” he says, laughter still tinging his words. “I never was into the idea of piercings or anything like that, but after the past few months?” He shudders. “I could do without ever facing down a needle again as long as I live.”

  I lift my hand to settle on top of his where it rests below my collarbone. “I can understand that,” I tell him. “I might be in for a tattoo at some point, though.”

  “Mmmm.” Darryn scratches my skin lightly with his fingernails. “Any images in mind?”

  I shrug. “Not yet.”

  It’s a little white lie. I have two in mind—my birthdate and Darryn’s. I know better than to put someone else’s personal information on my body permanently without a lot of time and thought, though. Maybe if we make it to five years together.

  It hits me then. We’re together. Like, for real.

  Butterflies explode in my stomach, and I grip Darryn’s hand tighter as I meet his gaze. “You know how I feel about you, right?”

  Darryn’s face goes solemn and he nods slowly, never looking away. “I know. It’s the same way I feel about you.”

  I lean in, and Darryn does, too, and we meet in the middle in a sweet, gentle kiss.

  Damn, I love this man. I can’t believe how close I came to missing out on all of this, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s as happy as I am right now.

  Even if it takes every day of the rest of our lives.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three weeks later

  It’s the weekend of the Winter Invitational, the first big gymnastics meet of the season. Usually before a meet I’m buzzing with a mix of nerves and excitement, but today I’m eerily calm. I wake up before my alarm goes off, tiptoeing around the room to keep from waking Darryn, fighting off the urge to wake him with more kisses like the ones we’d shared the night before.

  You’ll blow them all away tomorrow, he told me, and I’ll carry those words with me.

  After I shower and dre
ss, I head down to the cafeteria for my usual pre-meet breakfast— fruit and yogurt, toast with peanut butter, and orange juice. I hardly taste it, my mind busy playing and replaying my routines, locking them in so I don’t have to think about them. It’ll be like instinct.

  It’s still early when I reach the gym, and I’m dressed out and on the floor for warm-ups a few minutes later. I’m so focused on the competition ahead that I don’t even hear Coach Everson approach. I jump when he puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “Remember what we talked about,” he says. He’d ended our last pre-meet practice two days earlier with a combination pep talk and last-minute instruction manual for today. “Go hard, but pace yourself. You’ve got a long day to get through. Don’t leave everything on the floor your first time around.”

  I nod. “Got it.”

  Coach pats my back. “Have a good day.” It’s his standard line before any competition, not just a platitude but an instruction and a genuine wish. A “good day” means doing our best, putting forth good effort, and finishing strong.

  That’s the plan, but I’d sure like to make today about more than that.

  I have two goals today—getting through all my routines cleanly, and for floor exercise, finish in the top five. It’s early in the season, and I’m only a sophomore, but my personal goal for this season is to get on the winner’s podium consistently by the last few matches, at least on floor, since that’s my strongest apparatus by far. We’ll be doing only four apparatus each today, not all six, which means no vault or high bar for me.

  I take a seat with my teammates as the officials and coaches go through all the pre-meet discussions. While I wait, I turn and scan the stands, looking for familiar faces. My parents are probably coming later in the day, so I don’t expect to see them. I do catch sight of Annie and Mo about halfway up. Annie gives a little wave, Mo a bigger one, and I wave back.

  I’ve moved on to trying to find Darryn when someone taps me on my arm. I turn to find the man himself smiling and sliding into the seat next to me.