Fuck me.
This isn’t good.
Especially since it’s pretty damn obvious by her refusal to ask who the girl is that she’s not interested. And that’s cool. If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that you can’t force feelings that aren’t there to begin with.
“You know what?” Regretting my overshare, I clear my throat. “It’s late. I should probably take off.” I want to go home and lick my wounds in private. After this debacle, it’s doubtful I’ll ever put myself out there again. Who the hell needs this shit?
So, yeah...I’m more than ready to flee the scene of the crime. And the way she continues to gape at me like I’ve grown a horn on my forehead isn’t helping matters either. It only makes me feel like a humongous dumbass for choosing to disclose the truth.
Seriously, what the hell had I been thinking?
For once in my life, I allowed the wrong head to make the decisions.
When I can’t stand the oppressiveness for another moment, I tighten my grip on her hips and lift Demi from my lap before carefully setting her down next to me. Then I pop to my feet, ready to fly through the front door like a bat out of hell. I need distance from the pain and humiliation pumping through me.
As I take a hasty step toward freedom, her voice halts me in my tracks. “Why don’t you stay here for the night?”
Surprised by the offer, I flick my gaze over my shoulder.
“It’s late,” she clears her throat, “I’ll sleep in Dad’s room, and you can take mine.”
No way. It’s a shit idea. The best course of action is to return home and drink enough to forget this incident ever transpired.
Blackout drunk is the new plan for the evening.
“All right, I’ll stay.”
Goddamn it.
I’d really like to kick my own ass right now.
20
Demi
I stare sightlessly at the ceiling as the conversation from earlier plays through my head as if it’s on a constant loop. There’s no way that Rowan Michaels is a virgin.
How is it possible that I’ve slept with more people than the campus player?
And to be clear, I’ve had sex with a whopping five guys.
Five.
That’s it.
No matter how many times I squeeze my eyes closed and try to turn off my thoughts, they refuse to be banished. They circle through my head like hungry sharks.
Aren’t you going to ask who the girl is?
Instead of having the balls to hear the truth, I’d shaken my head, too frightened to take the conversation any further. Deep down, I had known what it would be. Once everything was out in the open, there would be no going back. We would only be able to move forward. And I’m unsure how to do that.
In the hour since I left Rowan at the threshold of my childhood room, I’ve come to realize that I need to hear him say the name.
I need to hear him say my name.
Before I can reconsider the wisdom of my actions, I throw off the comforter and pad into the darkened hallway before arriving at my bedroom. I stumble to a halt when I find the door slightly ajar. I pause, tentatively laying a hand on the wood as my heart riots painfully under my breast. If I push the door open and step inside, everything will change. I’ll be forced to acknowledge that my feelings for Rowan have always been smoldering beneath the surface, waiting for the chance to break free.
Am I ready for that?
The tiny voice at the back of my brain tells me to run before it’s too late. But I can’t do that. This feels much too important to back away from. With trembling fingers, I reach out and push the heavy wood door wider before stepping over the threshold and into the dark space.
A fresh wave of nerves crashes over me, threatening to drag me under. It takes everything I have inside to force out the question. “Are you awake?”
“Yup.” As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize his hands are stacked behind his head.
I take a cautious step toward the bed. It’s like there is a magnet drawing me to him. One I can’t escape from.
“Who?” Even though it’s only one word that falls from my lips, he understands the question. And the gravity behind it.
As he straightens to a seated position, the sheet slithers down his bare chest before settling around his waist.
“I think you already know the answer.” There’s a pause. “Don’t you?”
Yes.
When he extends his hand, it never occurs to me not to close the distance. I find myself gravitating toward him before carefully placing my fingers in his. As soon as his hand fastens around mine, he tugs me toward the bed until I’m settled on the mattress next to him.
“In case there was ever an ounce of doubt, it’s always been you, Demi.”
My heart melts. As much as I’ve tried ignoring him, thick tension has always smoldered in the air between us. It’s the reason I was so intent on keeping my distance. I was afraid to open up and let someone in.
Especially a guy like Rowan.
It doesn’t seem possible that one little secret has the power to change everything, but that’s exactly what it’s done.
Rowan draws back the sheet, and without hesitation, I slide beneath it, curling up beside him until my head can rest against his chest.
“I don’t understand how you could wait for something,” I glance at him, “or someone if you weren’t sure it would ever happen.”
Silence descends as he wraps his arm around me and tugs me closer.
“I never set out to wait; it just kind of happened. I’ve always had feelings for you, and even though there’s been plenty of other girls, they never held my interest. It seemed pointless to be with another girl when you were the one I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
Emotion explodes inside me, and I shift, maneuvering until my face can hover over his. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. As embarrassing as it is to admit I’m still a virgin at twenty-one, it was more important you understand that I’m nothing like Justin.”
Guilt slices through me like a burning arrow. “I don’t think that.” How did I get it so wrong? Why didn’t I see through to the truth?
He raises his brows. “Yeah, you did.”
“You’re right, I did. There have always been so many rumors floating around. How could I not believe them?”
“They never came from me.”
That’s the ironic part. It’s the girls who spread the lies far and wide. As if there was prestige to be had if you’d slept with Rowan. An exclusive club that drives up popularity.
When I was a freshman and even a sophomore, my older teammates would brag about hooking up with him. My chest would tighten as I was forced to listen to a blow-by-blow of the encounter. It made me sick to my stomach to think about him messing around with other girls. Instead of admitting I liked him, I convinced myself that I was disgusted by his sexual antics. That he was nothing more than a manwhore coasting through college on his athletic prowess and good looks. Every time he tried to get close, I pushed him away.
Guys get a bad rap for bragging about sexual encounters, but sometimes...sometimes it’s the girls who make stuff up to look better. Until now, I didn’t realize it could go both ways.
“I’ve heard so many girls boast about hooking up with you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
When he doesn’t say anything more, I prompt, “Doesn’t that bother you?”
A sigh escapes from him. “I guess the answer to that would be yes and no.”
“I don’t understand.” There have been plenty of times when people have spread rumors about me. Not only does it suck, it’s humiliating. It’s the reason I decided to leave campus for the weekend; I couldn’t take the scrutiny for another moment.
“It’s not like I wanted people to talk about me, but if girls were bragging that we’d hooked up, then no one was speculating as to the reason I wasn’t sleeping around like most of the
guys on the team.”
Wow. I never considered that.
“Look at your reaction.” He pauses for a heartbeat. “The moment I told you that I was a virgin, you immediately thought I was gay.”
Heat slams into my cheeks. He’s right, that’s exactly what I’d thought. I couldn’t understand why a perfectly healthy and attractive male wouldn’t want to sleep with as many girls as he could. Especially when they were throwing themselves at him left and right. From a young age, males are told that in order to be a man, they need to have sex with as many women as possible. If a guy doesn’t adhere to that, then there’s an assumption something is wrong with him. As painful as it is to admit, I’m as guilty of perpetrating the notion as everyone else.
“I’m sorry.” Now I feel even more like an asshole for jumping to conclusions. No wonder Rowan didn’t bother to correct the gossip. “I shouldn’t have assumed that.”
He brushes a kiss against the crown of my head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. In our society, that’s the way people are conditioned to think. There must be something wrong with a guy if he decides to wait. No matter what the reason might be.” He adds with a touch of humor, “I’m probably the only virgin on campus.”
His comment lightens the mood. “Nah, there might be a freshman or two.”
“Thanks,” he says with a snort. “I feel much better now. Maybe we can start a club or support group.”
I twist in his arms until my mouth can drift over his. As soon as it does, his lips part, and my tongue slips inside. He pulls me close and rearranges my body until I’m stretched out on top of him and able to feel all of his hard lines pressed against me.
It's all too easy to lose myself in him. The way his mouth sweeps over me. The velvety softness of his tongue as it tangles with mine. The feather-light touch of his fingers as they dance along the sides of my breasts before skimming down my sides.
Almost reluctantly, he pulls away. “You feel so damn good.”
When I swoop in for more, he gently pulls away until his gaze can fasten on mine. “You realize that I’m not looking for a quick fuck, right?”
How could I not?
But what does that necessarily mean?
That we can’t have sex?
Like right now?
Because I’m more turned on than I have been in a long time.
Maybe ever.
His lips twist as if he has mindreading capabilities. Carefully he repositions me until I’m snuggled up against him instead of draped across his body.
I guess that answers the question, now doesn’t it?
“You’re kind of a tease,” I grumble.
Even though a chuckle rumbles up from his chest, it’s scraped raw as if he’s as tortured as I am. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Doesn’t matter.” At this very moment, hormones are raging through my body, singeing me from the inside out.
He drops a kiss against the top of my head as his arms tighten around me. “Go to sleep, Demi.”
A snort escapes.
Like that’s going to happen anytime soon?
I don’t think so.
21
Demi
Sunlight slants across my face as I wake with a stretch. My eyelashes flutter open as I focus on the ceiling overhead. For a sliver of a moment, a deep sense of calmness fills me, which is odd. I escaped home because of all the bullshit at school. So, I don’t understand why everything feels kind of—
Perfect.
That’s when the memories from last night crash through my head like a ton of bricks. One moment I’m blissfully unaware and the next—boom! They’re there. I’m suddenly wide awake and jackknifing to a seated position.
Holy crap! My gaze flies around the empty room. Except for the masculine scent clinging to the sheets, there’s no sign that Rowan slept in my bed. With a deep lungful of air to prove I’m not delusional, I collapse against the pillows.
Last night...
Did that really happen?
My fingers drift across my lips.
Did I kiss Rowan?
Hold on a second...did he actually admit to being a virgin?
Mind.
Officially.
Blown.
My breath gets clogged in my throat at the thought.
Rowan Michaels.
Campus player.
Hot commodity with a golden ticket to the NFL.
Now we’re adding virgin to that list?
And he’s seriously been holding out for me?
Me?
It seems a little too farfetched.
And yet...
I believe him. There’s no reason not to. I’ve known Rowan for a long time, and the one thing I can unequivocally say is that he’s never lied to me. I trail my fingers over the cold sheets. We talked. And kissed. Then fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms.
And now he’s gone.
Does Rowan think he can dump all that on me and then take off at the crack of dawn?
Are we supposed to pretend it never happened?
Rowan could have allowed me to finish out senior year blissfully unaware of his true feelings, but he didn’t. He took a chance and disclosed everything. At the same time, forcing me to acknowledge what I’ve always kept bottled up inside. Now, knowing what I do, how can I pretend it doesn’t exist?
With a huff of frustration, I throw off the covers and pad over to the window before drawing back the gauzy curtain to peer outside. It might be early September, but it’s absolutely gorgeous out. My gaze lands on the now empty spot where Rowan’s pickup truck had been parked last night. I draw my lower lip between my teeth before chewing on it, dropping the sheer material back into place, and taking a step in retreat.
I’m confused as to what his absence means. Is the ball now in my court? Am I supposed to make the next move? What is my next move? Do I even have one?
Not really.
Well...it appears I’ve got some thinking to do this weekend. I can mull over the issue with a steaming cup of coffee. Hopefully, that will get my neurons firing.
Since I have the house to myself, I don’t bother to throw a robe over my tank top and panties. I’ve never been self-conscious about my body. I’ve been an athlete my entire life. I’m used to changing in a locker room full of girls.
With my mind full of Rowan, I pad down the staircase to the entryway before turning toward the back of the house. Sunshine pours in through the eastern facing windows as I pull open the refrigerator door and peer inside.
Yup, it’s like I suspected—a barren wasteland. Since Dad lives alone, he doesn’t keep up on domestic chores like cooking, cleaning, and shopping. After the divorce, he hired Mrs. Granger, an older woman in the neighborhood to stock the fridge once a week, tidy up the house, do the laundry, and prepare a few quick meals for when he’s running late. Otherwise, the guy would probably camp out at the stadium and subsist on cafeteria food.
What he needs is a girlfriend. Every once in a while, I make noises about him dying alone. With a roll of his eyes, he’ll remind me that he’s perfectly content living a bachelor lifestyle. His excuse is that he doesn’t have enough time to devote to a girlfriend, and no woman wants to be a distant second to football. He’s not wrong about that, but maybe if the right woman came along, it would change his mind and his priorities.
What?
It could happen. Although, I won’t be holding my breath.
It takes seconds to scour the entire contents of the fridge. There’s not even a single slice of pizza to be found because Rowan and I polished it off last night. Had I known he would be making an unannounced appearance, I would have ordered two larges. My plan had been to nibble on it throughout the weekend.
Guess that idea has been shot to hell.
As I slam the fridge closed, the front door opens. Which is...odd. There’s no way Dad is home. He shouldn’t return until late Sunday evening, and if, by chance, his plans changed, he would have called or texted to let me
know.
My muscles tense as I cautiously move to the middle of the room, giving me clear sightlines to the entryway. A puff of air escapes from my lungs when I find Rowan. As our gazes lock and hold, something pings unwantedly at the bottom of my belly. For so many years, I ignored the physical attraction, doing my best to convince myself it didn’t exist. His confession last night makes that impossible. The floodgates have been opened, and there’s no chance of resurrecting them again.
Only now do I realize how disappointed I was to find him missing this morning.
His lips quirk into a lopsided smile as he holds up a paper bag with a familiar logo stamped across the front. “I ran out for bagels and coffee.”
Fresh bagels are my absolute favorite. Before his admission last night, I would have assumed it was nothing more than a coincidence. Now, I know differently. It only proves that Rowan has always been there, hovering at the edges, paying attention to the details. It’s such an insignificant gesture, and yet, it means so much. No other guy has ever bothered to run out and grab breakfast in the morning.
My heart lurches, and it takes effort to clear away the emotion struggling to take root deep inside. I’m not ready for that yet. Instead, I clear my throat and lift my lips into a smile. “I thought you took off.”
“Nope.”
Warmth blooms inside me as I drag a hand through my disheveled hair. Unsure what to do or say, I shift my weight and point toward the patio. He makes me feel emotions I’m not entirely comfortable with. “Want to eat outside?”
“Sure.”
His easy response makes the tension vibrating in the air dissipate. Needing a moment to collect my scattered thoughts, I turn away, grabbing napkins and plates before carrying them out through the slider to the stamped cement patio that surrounds the pool. We settle at the iron table beneath an over-sized navy-colored umbrella. Rowan sets an extra-large travel container of coffee in front of me before opening the bag. As soon as he does, I catch a whiff of fresh bagels.
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