by Sara Ney
“I didn’t realize you wanted me to ask you out.”
She looked up at me then, pretty brows bent. “I’ve been flirting and messaging you for weeks. I brought you cookies. I called you to pick me up from a bar in the middle of the night. Kissed you on my porch. What did you think I was doing all this time?”
“I don’t fucking know, Laurel. Friendzonin’ me? I thought we were studyin’. What did you think we were doing?”
“I thought you were waiting to ask me out until the time was right,” she blurted out, cheeks red as her hair. “I can’t believe I said that. I don’t ask guys out—I’ve never asked a guy out in my life, and I’m not starting with you.”
Shit.
I’m an ass.
Me: Sorry about that whole thing with my parents.
Laurel: It’s okay, I survived. Only a mild heart attack. Lana charged me back to life with sushi.
Me: I apologize in advance for anything my family says tomorrow.
Laurel: I’m so nervous. I hope they don’t think I’m…you know, sleazy or whatever.
Me: They don’t think you’re sleazy. They spent the entire past hour grilling me about you.
Laurel: I guess I can use tomorrow as an opportunity to redeem myself from the walk of shame I did in front of them tonight.
Me: Tu me manques déjà
Laurel: Does that mean what I think it means?
Me: What do you think it means?
Laurel: You miss me terribly?
Me: Uh, that’s kind of exactly what it means. LOL
Laurel: You are the sweetest. Honestly. I miss you so much. Do I sound clingy saying that?
Me: No, because I just said it.
Me: My parents just left.
Laurel: And?
Me: And I’m thinking you should get your sweet little ass back over here.
Laurel: God, now all I can think about is you touching me.
Me: Then what are you waiting for?
Laurel
“So what did your parents say after I left?” We’re lying on our stomachs in the middle of his bed, feet dangling off the other side. I switched into yoga pants before coming back over, but I don’t expect them to stay on long.
“My mom only wanted to talk about you, and my dad kept tryin’ to talk about wrestling.”
“What did she want to know about me?” My stomach can’t help but leap at this news.
Those broad shoulders of Rhett’s move up and down in a shrug. “You know, the usual.”
Oh God, if he’s going to be vague, I’m going to have a stroke. “Like what?”
“Rex would not shut up about you being my girlfriend.” He laughs it off, but I detect an undertone in his voice that has my ears perking up. “And my mom kept pryin’ for details.”
Pryin’.
I swear, my heartbeat quickens. “What did you say to the girlfriend thing?”
“I didn’t want her to get all excited, you know? My mom’s the type that would start plannin’ a weddin’ and shit—she has three boys—so, you know, I told her the truth, that we were talking.”
I pull back. Talking?
I mean, I get it; he doesn’t know where we stand, and neither did I until just now. I try to laugh, swallow down the disappointment. Downplay how that word makes me feel.
Talking.
What does that even mean?
“Talking.”
His laugh sounds strangled. Nervous. “You know—hanging out.”
Stomach in knots, I turn to face him, body twisting. “Is that what you want? To hang out?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you want, you know…more?” With me. Specifically.
“What do you want?”
“Rhett, I’m asking you.” I’m curt, but need to know I’m not wasting my time with someone who doesn’t want me back—that his heart, like mine, is invested.
If even just a little.
It hasn’t occurred to me before this moment that he might be using me for sex, using my body, like the guys that have come before him—but hearing him hesitate like this? It just might break my heart.
My eyes squeeze closed; I can’t look at him. “I’m not trying to push you into anything Rhett, I swear I’m not. I can handle the truth, I just need to know if you want what I want.” Before I fall completely and madly in love with you.
I’m more than halfway there already.
Feeling decidedly Alex-like, I realize I’m an utter asshole for bringing this up. It’s unfair to him, I know this; he has never been in a relationship before, so how would he know how he felt about me after only a few weeks? The last thing I want to do is railroad the poor guy into a relationship by being pushy. For all I know, he hasn’t had a girlfriend for a reason.
What if he doesn’t want one? Just wants to sow his wild oats? Catch up from his lifelong dry spell?
I like him far too much to stay silent.
I have to know.
“Are you askin’ if I want a girlfriend?”
I roll to my side, studying his expression. “I guess I am.”
He mulls it over, rolling to his back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Any girlfriend, or someone specific?”
I narrow my eyes; who knew he’d be this cheeky? Bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling.
“Don’t be coy,” I scold, impatient. Sulking.
“Oh, I’m the coy one, huh?” his deep voice teases. “So what I’m gettin’ from that cute pout of yours is you wouldn’t mind, you know, being, uh…committed.”
My ears perk up.
Commitment. I almost breathe the word out loud. Yes.
“So, no sleeping with other people while we’re sleeping with each other,” he muses.
“Right.”
“That won’t be a problem for me.” When he laughs, I want to smack him for joking around and not giving me a straight answer. Ugh.
Ten minutes later, he still hasn’t answered my question.
Ten minutes later, I reach to pull on my Chucks, crouching at the foot of the bed. Slip one shoe on, moving to zip the soft leather up its side.
A warm hand touches my spine, caressing my back, up and down. Kisses my neck from behind. “Goin’ somewhere?”
“Home.” I glance at him over my shoulder.
Rhett furrows his brow. “But I thought…”
I shoot him a sharp look, trying to control my out-of-control emotions. “You thought what?”
I know I’m being hypersensitive, but I’m in uncharted territory here, completely out of my element, and don’t know quite what to do with myself. Normally I’m the one calling the shots in my relationships, the one being chased after, showered with compliments, and getting gifts.
Rhett has shown me none of those things, and yet…
Here I am, dreaming about him every day and every night. Falling asleep with a smile on my face, waking up thinking about him, with his name on my lips.
“I-I don’t know what I thought,” he stammers, hands splayed helplessly. “Help me out here, Laurel. I don’t know what I did to piss you off.”
“Truthfully?” My shoulders slouch, fingers releasing their hold on my shoe, letting it drop to the ground. I sit up straight, ashamed. “I don’t know why I’m leaving.”
What a liar.
I don’t have a clue what we’re doing and can’t handle not knowing. I guess that makes me a control freak, doesn’t it? I can’t push the subject with him because if I do, I run the risk of pushing him away.
Rhett simply isn’t equipped to deal with a girl like me.
It’s depressing.
As it is, I practice every ounce of self-control I have, doing my best not to eat him alive. It’s hard; he’s so freaking irresistible.
“For what it’s worth, I want you to stay.” He leans in again, brushing my long hair out of the way, kissing the back of my neck. “Stay.”
My body gives in, falling back down onto the mattress. He hovers above me now, shag
gy hair falling into his concerned brown eyes.
“All right.” I trace his jawline with the tip of my finger. “You’re right.”
“I have to be up really fucking early, but you’ll have the house to yourself in the morning. The guys and I have to be out the door by five.”
“Five?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is it even light out that early?”
“Barely.”
“Rhett?”
He gazes down adoringly.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a…girl.”
He rears back, grinning. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” I worry my bottom lip with a sigh. “That I’m letting my insecurities get the best of me.”
“Uh, okay.” Translation: I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.
“You know what would make me feel better?”
His brows rise.
I raise one of mine.
Two seconds later, he’s on his haunches, peeling off his shirt.
He’s hot and horny, wanting to have sex constantly, the condoms we had almost entirely gone once we rescued them from under the dresser.
“Laurel?” The gentle whisper comes from somewhere above my head. A light caress touches my back. “Laurel, I’ve gotta go.”
I roll to my back, his hand taking the short journey across my flesh when I turn. Stretch, sheet sliding down my pale skin.
Groggy but not blind, I catch when his eyes roam my naked upper body. Give him a tired little smirk and let him ogle my amazing breasts.
“Mmm, morning baby.” I can’t help calling him that; it feels so right.
“Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to say goodbye.”
When his hand settles on the flat of my stomach, I reach for it. Drag it up my ribcage, resting it on my breast. His thumb immediately begins a tender stroke over the crest.
“You have to leave right this second?” I whisper, hand reaching out to stroke along the visible outline of his dick beneath black mesh gym shorts. I wonder if he’s ever had morning sex, or at least thought about it, about having it with me. Probably not since he’s standing next to the bed, completely dressed, showered, and ready to leave. “Once more before you go, please babe.”
“Once more what before I go?”
Is he serious? “A quickie.”
Rhett wars with himself, debating, and I wonder if it has more to do with my hand on his junk, his hand on my boob, or my use of the word babe.
His cock, at eye level, twitches. Grows.
My arms stretch above my head lazily. Breasts tempting, hair fanned on his pillow, I know I’m an alluring sight, unfurled like a cat in the sun. Irresistible to his hormonal, raging body.
I know it’s wrong to make him choose, but I want slow, orgasmic, morning sex, and I want it now.
“Make love to me real quick,” I whisper, hips rolling beneath the sheets, already damp between my legs. “Please, baby.”
Baby: I know with that one word, I’ve got him by the balls.
Duffle dropping like a lead weight to the floor, Rhett hurriedly yanks his shirt up over his head. Shucks his shorts, shoving them down his muscular thighs. Crawls under the covers between my spread my legs, palm running up my calf, leg, cupping my breast. Squeezes gently. Sucks a nipple.
He’s a fantasy come to life, hard as a rock and warm and smelling like peppermint. Shampoo and woodsy soap. Feels like heaven in the dusky morning light barely filtering through the sheer curtains.
“Gotta make this quick.” Hesitates before pushing in. Long and hot, he’s already learned what makes my body purr. “Shhhit, Laurel.”
Wide awake and full of raw power, his hips thrust, doing all the work for both of us, face buried in the crook of my neck, mouth on my skin. Hips rolling slowly at first, his stiff cock hitting my sweet spot almost immediately.
Ah, the beauty of morning sex—or maybe I’m just so turned on by him I was already halfway there.
When Rhett’s large hands grip my ass, sinking in as deep as he can go and pumping into me wildly, I whimper, clinging to him, orgasm imminent.
Horny, adrenaline-fueled Rhett feels…is…
“Perfect. So perfect.”
We make no sounds when we come, no grunts, no moans.
Just the sound of our heavy breathing in the first light of day, bodies pressed so closely together there’s no room between us, not even for a whisper.
His kiss hits my lips when he pulls out; rising to clean himself up, he gathers his clothes to pull them on. I watch him dress, sated, chin propped on my elbow.
His body is chiseled perfection. His heart? Sweet and a bit naïve.
Mine flutters, observing him hustle around his room; he deserves this wave of love I suddenly feel for him.
We both do.
“Breakfast in the fridge.” He swoops in again to kiss the pulse in my neck, lips lingering. “My parents will be in section three, right where you sat last time. My mom will be watching for you.”
I roll up in his covers. “Kay.”
“Bye.” Long pause. “Babe.”
My heart races when he tests the endearment for the first time, leaving me just a little bit breathless. Jeez, I miss him, and he hasn’t walked out the door yet.
Get a grip, Laurel. “See you later, baby. Good luck.”
One more sweet kiss to my collarbone and he’s gone.
I flop down on his pillow, burying my face in the space he recently occupied. Give it a sniff, sighing all over again. Roll onto his sleeping spot and slip into blissful, satisfied slumber.
Laurel
“Laurel sweetie, over here!” An enthusiastic hand goes up in the third row, waving furiously. I don’t know how I manage to spot her in the massive crowd, but the arm is attached to Mrs. Rabideaux; she beams at me as I make my way down the bleachers, down the stadium steps.
I shuffle my way toward Rhett’s family, cheeks flaming hot, already embarrassed. The last time I saw his mother, I was leaving her son’s house, post-coital, ratty sex hair and all.
But, I suck it up; if he and I are going to be long-term, then I have to get this whole awkward situation over with and move past it.
Pasting on a smile, I weave my way through the third row, toward the empty spot next to Rhett’s mother. Her smile is so big, arms welcoming, some of the anxiety melts away. When I finally reach them, her arms embrace me. Squeeze.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Mrs. Rabideaux enthuses. “Normally it’s always just me at these things with all these men.”
“Thank you for letting me sit with you, Mrs. Rabideaux.” I have to raise my voice so she can hear me. “Honestly, I’ve only been to one of these, and I brought my roommates so I didn’t have to come alone.”
“Please, call me Wendy.”
I blush. “Thank you, Wendy.”
“Sit, sit. Here, I brought seat cushions. This promises to be a long match—they’re getting ready for qualifiers.”
I plop down beside her on the Iowa stadium seat. “Qualifiers for what?”
“The NCAA championships. They’re coming up soon—next month.”
“Oh!” I didn’t know that. “Has Rhett ever won anything like that?” Could I be any more clueless?
“Twice,” she boasts, puffing out her chest with pride.
“Twice!” My heart races. “Wow. I mean, I knew he was good, but…twice?” I scan the mats in front of us for that face I’ve grown to adore. Find him pacing, decked out in black pants, track jacket. Black shoes with white stripes slashed through the side.
“Why aren’t they wearing headgear?”
“It’s optional at this level. Some wrestlers choose not to wear it because it gets in the way.” She drones on. “In high school—not that it matters anymore—he was All-American, sweetie. Didn’t you know that?”
All-American? “What does that mean?”
“It means he was one of the best high school wrestlers in the nation, along
with near perfect grades.”
Wendy’s eyes catch me ogling her son, and she shoots me a sidelong glance before joining my perusal. “How is he doing? Honestly.”
I take my eyes off Rhett long enough to give her a reassuring smile. “Better now, I think?”
She analyzes my expression closely. “You are referring to the four-hundred-dollar restaurant bill?”
Shit. How much has he told her about that? About all the other incidents?
The look on my face—and my hesitation—has Wendy studying me closely. “If there was more, you’d tell me?”
I nod slowly. “There have been a few other little things.”
I can’t lie. Can’t.
This is his mother.
“Like what?”
“They, um…vandalized his car.”
“What do you mean vandalized his car?”
“They, uh…” I clear my throat, itching to stretch out my collar. “Covered it in grease and wrapped it in, um, plastic wrap.”
“Who is they?” Wendy’s eyes are dangerous slits, sliding to the other men warming up beside Rhett.
“We don’t know. Some sorority girls, I think? I was with him so he didn’t have to drive the Jeep home, but…he was really upset about it.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “What did Coach Donnelly do about it?”
I swallow. “He, uh, made them do a team-building exercise at a cabin in the woods. It’s been much better since.”
“Hmm.” She pulls her brown gaze off her son. “He seems happy. I’m disappointed he felt like he couldn’t tell us.”
I don’t know what else to say but, “You know how guys are.”
“Well, he’s always been stubborn.” Her head dips. “It’s hard having him so far away. I worry. A mother should know her son is being taken care of.”
My arms slide around her shoulders and pull her in. “I’m taking care of him. He has me.”
“I can’t get over the fact that my baby has a girlfriend. He’s never had one.” She pauses. “He wouldn’t want me tellin’ you that.”
“I don’t think he considers me his girlfriend yet, but…I think we might be moving in that direction—I mean, I hope we are.” Shut up, Laurel. Stop talking. “I really like him.”
