by Lexi Ryan
I wash my hands and leave the bathroom to join my friends out back, but as soon as I step into the hallway, Chris is there. He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the dark, far corner of the hallway, pressing me against the wall before bringing his mouth down to mine.
I melt beneath him, sliding my hand into his hair, and his kiss goes from hard to sweet, demanding to tender. I’ve been watching him all day. I both love and hate pretending we’re nothing more than friends. On the one hand, I love having the secret and enjoying the relationship without the opinions of anyone else. On the other hand, it means I have to settle for glances when I want touches.
He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “I’m losing my mind.”
“I think I like it,” I whisper against his mouth.
He slides one hand under my jaw, and the other over my side and down to cup my ass. “I want you to be mine.”
“I am. All yours.”
“No, you’re not.” His grip tightens. “Not until you’re willing to let them know we’re together. Until then, I only get part of you part of the time.”
My racing heart stutters. It’s not just my past that’s holding me back. Whether or not I tell him, the truth is, Chris is too good for me. I’m so scared that once we tell everyone, it’s going to make it real, and once it’s real, it will fall apart. Like when you dream you can fly and wake up feeling like you fell onto your mattress. I’m not ready to wake up yet. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“Because it’s not.” He pushes his body closer and nestles his knee between my thighs. All I would have to do is rotate my hips the slightest bit and I’d be rubbing against him. “Because I want all of you.”
Is it the position of his body against mine or the words themselves that makes something flare low in my belly, like the hot embers of a campfire that burned all night long?
The hand on my jaw slips into my hair. “You make me fucking crazy, Grace.”
I smile, determined to keep my cool, determined not to let him see how much I want what he’s asking. “I didn’t think anyone could make you crazy. I thought that was what you were known for—being a quarterback nobody can rattle. Right?”
His thumb traces my bottom lip in a touch that is so faint, so light, that it sends butterflies skittering through my belly. “Why are you so set on tormenting me?” he asks. “Why don’t you want this to be real? Is it because of our parents? If you’re worried about your dad, I promise you I’ll be the one to—”
“It’s not about my dad.”
“Then what is it? I want to be with you, and I want it to be real. And it’s like you already have one foot out the door.”
That’s so far from the truth, but I can’t explain without saying more than I’m ready to. “I’m here. With you.”
“Yeah? Because you could’ve fooled me.” He steps away and shakes his head, his jaw hard. “I know I said I’d play by your rules, but I’m running out of patience.” He turns on his heel and leaves me. The back door clicks closed as he joins the others outside.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath to find my balance, but there’s not enough oxygen in the air to make the world right itself. I can’t be with Chris for real until he knows the truth about who I am, and telling him now feels like emotional suicide.
Chapter Thirty-One
Chris
I roll over in bed, and there she is. It’s still dark in the room, and the clock tells me it’s just after one a.m., but the realization of Grace being in my bed wakes me like sun pouring in the window. I fell asleep before she came home.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her close to me, press my nose into her hair, and draw in a deep breath. She moans in her sleep, and I kiss her forehead, running my hands down her back. I love the way her body feels, her curves and softness such a contrast to that wicked mouth.
“Hey, you,” she whispers in the dark. She rolls to her side and slides a hand behind my neck and presses her mouth to mine. I’m so glad to have her here. In my arms. In my bed. Suddenly, I don’t care. Right now, in this moment, I don’t care about all her rules. It doesn’t matter that she wants to keep this a secret. I just need her.
She slides her tongue against my lips and our mouths open and our tongues tangle, slow and searching. I roll her onto her back, and she draws her knees up on either side of my waist, bringing my cock to nestle between her thighs. I love the sounds she makes—something north of a moan, south of a gasp, and just left of a whimper.
Her hands tighten in my hair, and if I weren’t already hard, I would be now. She rocks against me. Our bodies are so close, with nothing but the fabric of her shorts and my boxer briefs between us. I kiss the corner of her mouth and work my way along her jaw, down her neck, and back up, sucking her earlobe between my teeth.
She lifts her hips again, circles, lifts, and circles, rubbing against me until I have to squeeze my eyes shut because it would be so easy to get off like this. She turns me on so much, makes me so hard, I could come in my shorts without ever getting inside her. I could get off on the simple friction of her writhing under me.
I slide my hand up her shirt, and her skin is so soft, her response to my touch so electric that I gasp right along with her as I cup her breast, as I squeeze her nipple. Everything’s slower in the darkness, like we have all the time in the world. I take my time, exploring each inch of her neck, her collarbone, using my tongue and my teeth to study her skin and memorize her taste.
I can’t lose her.
The thought invades my mind, and the fear that comes with it nearly makes me gasp. I’m not ready to think about that yet. I’m not ready to contemplate what happens when summer’s over and she goes back to New York. I’m not ready to imagine nights without her sleeping in my bed. But it keeps coming up in my mind.
I won’t ask her to stay when her dream is in New York, but I do want this to be real, and that means holding on until I can convince her to try. It means holding on until she’s ready.
“Chris,” she whispers.
I lower my head and kiss my way down her body, latching on to her breast over her tank and sucking on her nipple through the fabric. She cries out and rubs her hips harder against me. She arches, and I keep my mouth on her breast because I recognize the hitch in her breath, the desperate pull of her hand in my hair. Her knees tighten at my sides, and it’s so easy to imagine what it’d be like to slide into her like this. How good it would be.
Then she’s coming, arching, gasping. She cries out, and I cover her mouth with mine, kissing her to silence only because I know that’s what she’d want. But the truth is, I want to hear it. Cutting her off is painful when I want to know every sound she makes when she climaxes. She grinds her hips and rides the wave down, breathless, her body soft under mine. All those tense muscles seem to melt beneath me, and she relaxes into her pillow.
“What was that?” she asks.
“I think it’s called an orgasm,” I say with a grin I know she can’t see.
She laughs and swats my arm. “I know what an orgasm is.”
“You sure?” I kiss her bare shoulder. “Because I’d be happy to spend some time getting you intimately acquainted with the concept if you need me to.”
“I can honestly say I’ve never done that before.”
“No one’s ever gotten you off with your clothes still on?”
She shakes her head and licks her lips. “What about you?”
I shrug. “I was a teenage boy once. I definitely had a couple of hand jobs that ended in an unfortunately messy way.”
She giggles. “No. I mean, what can I do for you?” She pushes against my chest with her palms, and I take the hint and roll to my back.
“Grace.” She’s already kissing her way down my chest, and my throat is clogged with this tangle of want and need and fucking adoration.
She curls her fingers into the waistband of my briefs and tugs them down. Then her lips are on me, and I can’t fucking breathe because it’s so good. The heat of her mouth
, the swirl of her tongue, the vibration of her soft moan. I can’t breathe because it’s Grace, and this feels fucking huge, a big step I didn’t expect and wouldn’t have thought she was ready for.
I reach down and find her hair. I slide my fingers into the silky strands just to give myself that connection to her, to root this pleasure in our connection to each other. She takes her time, moving over me and licking and sucking and moaning until my back arches and pleasure shoots down my spine.
“Grace.” A whispered warning in the dark. “Jesus. I can’t . . .”
She doesn’t stop, and I let go, my hips bucking, and pleasure coiling and releasing in a hot rush.
When she climbs back up my body, I draw her against me and hold her tight. “You’re so fucking amazing,” I whisper into her hair.
I feel her shrug. “I give a good blowjob.”
Something about the way she says it makes me uncomfortable, and I pull back, wishing I could see her better in the darkness. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t pretend that this thing between us is just about getting off. It’s not like that. At least it’s not for me.” I gather her into my arms and take a deep breath. “If you don’t know that, then I’m not doing this right.”
“I didn’t . . .” Her voice cracks, and she takes a deep breath before sliding a hand behind my neck and resting her forehead on my chest. All I can do is wait in the darkness, paralyzed in that space between wanting more from her than she’s offered and being terrified I’ll scare her away. She presses her lips on my chest, right above my heart. “It’s not just sex for me, either.”
* * *
Grace
My phone buzzes with a text alert, and I see it’s from Jewel. I should delete it without looking. I shouldn’t torture myself by seeing what she has to say. But ignoring it feels too much like choosing not to look at what weapons you’re about to be attacked with.
I open the text and see that she’s sent me a link to a video on Instagram. I watch it without sound, but I know what the girl on the screen is saying. I watch her lips as she says, “I’m gonna get laid tonight.” I watch her sultry smile and the flip of her hair, remember Dad making me watch Jewel’s Instagram post from right before I left for the party last summer. She took the video of me as we dressed for the party and posted it on Instagram as a joke.
It didn’t feel like a joke the next morning. It was embarrassing.
And now Jewel’s rubbing it in my face again. After I shut down all my social media accounts and left for New York, she stopped with her incessant bullying. Why is she at it again?
I close out of the video and put my phone down. “If you could start over with Mason, would you do anything differently?” I ask Bailey.
We’re sitting on the floor in her living room, the soft bass of her music rolling in the background. She called this morning and asked if I’d keep her company while she studied. “And what I mean by ‘keep me company’ is force me to fucking do it, because I would literally rather watch paint dry.”
I wanted to get some writing done today anyway, so I met her at her apartment at lunchtime. We shared a nutritious meal of leftover cheese pizza, and we’ve been working in silence since.
She studies me, her Mason-specific poker face faltering. “Everything, maybe.” She drops her pencil and takes a deep breath. “Is this about Chris?”
I shrug. “My friend Willow thinks I should remind him of Gee-Gee so he really knows who I am.”
“But is that who you are?” She pushes her textbook to the side.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but then . . .” I shrug. “I can’t run from my past.”
She sighs heavily. “But you can’t move on if you keep clinging to it.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chris
I’ve looked forward to tonight since we made plans a week ago.
I want Grace alone. In my arms by the fire, by the lake, under the stars.
There’s a chance of rain, but when I asked her if she wanted to reschedule for a weekend with a dry forecast, she just laughed at me and told me she’s not a prissy little girl. To be honest, I like that about her. I liked that when we went hiking she wasn’t afraid to get her shoes muddy or walk under the waterfall. And I like that she’s as excited about tonight as I am, and that she won’t let a little rain scare her off. But mostly, I like that I finally get to be alone with her.
When I agreed not to tell our friends, I don’t think I thought through how much sneaking around would be involved, but it’s definitely getting old fast. It seems as if there’s always someone around—Mason, Bailey, Mia. Even Keegan has been over more than he ever has in the past. And since I’m going to be working with Sebastian so closely in the fall, he’s been spending more time at the apartment, too.
But there’s always somebody around, keeping me from touching her when and where and how I want. To have one night where I can lean over and kiss her? One night where I can slide my hand into her hair and look into her eyes, or touch her arm so I can remember the feel of her skin against mine? I’m more than ready. Tonight is long overdue.
Arrow’s dad has a bunch of property and agreed to let me camp out at the back of it tonight. July is popular for camping, and we were too late to snag a campsite at any of the decent spots within driving distance. And anyway, the Woodisons’ property is perfect. It’s more than a mile from the house, it’s secluded, and there’s even a lake.
“Is that everything?” Grace asks, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and looking at the packed trunk. I’ve set us up with a two-man tent, a cooler with the necessities for dinner and breakfast, and a couple of bottles of wine.
“You’re sure you don’t need an air mattress?” I ask. “We could swing by Target and pick one up.”
“I can manage a night on the ground. I’m not an old woman just yet.”
“Clearly.” I skim my gaze over her approvingly. She’s wearing a red tank top and cutoffs that show her long, pale legs and hug the curve of her ass. “No polka dots today?”
She shrugs. “Contrary to what you seem to think, not everything I own is polka-dotted.”
“I like them on you.” I step forward to pull her into my arms, and she tenses and looks up at the window to our apartment above.
I truly doubt that Mason is standing there watching us, but I sense her discomfort and back away. I hate that she doesn’t want them to know, but I said I was willing to do this on her terms, so it is what it is. “Are you ready?”
She nods and climbs into the car. Since my aborted embrace, the air between us has gone tense with everything we didn’t say. She knows how I feel. I know how she feels. Why rehash it?
As we get closer to Arrow’s property, she turns to me. “Should I duck down so they don’t see me as we drive by?”
“I really doubt anyone’s going to be looking that closely,” I say, trying and failing to keep the grumpiness out of my voice. “But if you want to, I won’t stop you.”
“Hey.” She cocks her head and frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I assume by this she means continuing our relationship in secret. “You know how I feel.”
“But isn’t it a little fun? Having a secret? Sneaking around? This way what’s happening here is just ours.”
I swallow hard. I want to see it her way. I do. “I don’t want you to be my secret, Grace. I want them to see that you’re mine.”
“How caveman possessive of you.”
“It’s not about claiming you like a piece of property. You’re not something I’m ashamed of. You’re one of the most important parts of my life. Why would I want to hide that?” I cut my eyes to her before returning them to the road and see that her cheeks have blossomed red.
“You’re unreal. You know that? An honest-to-God nice guy.”
It seems like when Grace uses the words “nice guy,” she usually says them with derision, but this time she sounds impressed.
I turn onto the property, and she squeaks and drops her head down into my lap. Her face is against my crotch, and I go hard in an instant. I swear she nuzzles my hard-on, and I growl a sound that might be her name but that sounds far more desperate.
“See?” she says. “Secrets can be fun.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter and focus on the road. It’s not like there’s traffic back here, but I still wouldn’t want to be distracted to the point of not seeing a kid wandering along.
She grins up at me as we pass the house, and I follow the lane back to a spot by the lake where we should have all the privacy we need.
When I park the car, she doesn’t move her head. She lies there and looks up at me, her head in my lap, her silky black hair spread out around her face, her lips curved into a soft smile of contentment. My throat goes thick, and my heart feels as if it’s caught in a fist.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
The words are right there, but I swallow them back before they can come out. I can’t think of anything that would scare her off faster than I love you. So I’ll keep it to myself. Even if it’s true. Even if she needs to hear it more than anyone I know. I want to keep her for as long as she’ll let me. Instead, I say, “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
She snakes a hand up my shirt and scrapes her nails over my chest. “Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”
“Damn straight.”
She lifts her head, and I tilt down, and we meet in the middle for a soft, sweet kiss. It feels so good to kiss her out here in the light. I wouldn't give up our nights together, but I wish every significant moment of our relationship didn’t have to happen in secret in the dark. Tonight, sitting around a campfire and sleeping with her in my arms, I can pretend for a minute that we’re a normal couple and that this is just another night.
