by Anthology
I’ve been frozen at his words, my hands stilled on his wrists, gripping them tightly—whether to pull him closer or push him away, I’m not sure. That tiny spark of hope I felt when I found him out here has blossomed into something more, spread until it’s radiating through my whole body, lighting it up from the inside. “What about your teammates? Or your frat brothers? Are they going to be okay with it?”
“Who do you think helped me pull this off?” His thumb sweeps against my cheek, and finally the shadow of a smile crosses his lips. “But even if they weren’t, I don’t care anymore. I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. It should’ve been all that mattered from the beginning—”
I shake my head, cutting him off. “In the beginning, it wasn’t just you wanting to keep it a secret. It was me, too. I just changed the rules on you mid-game. But I couldn’t keep going like we were…not feeling the way I did.”
“Did or do?”
I stare at him, at his hopeful expression as he hangs on what I’m about to say, and I realize those bad memories of that day in the quad have been silenced. Not shoved away or forgotten, but washed over by the amends he’s made, each and every one building on the last until it’s a solid enough foundation for me to stand on. For us to stand on.
“Do,” I say, my voice just a whisper. It’s loud enough for him to hear, because the shadow of a smile morphs into the wide one I love, and then he leans closer, his lips on mine, and I let myself get lost in it—in him—for a minute. Let everything else fade away, except his thumbs caressing my cheeks and his chest pressed to mine and his tongue slipping into my mouth as we share the same breath.
He’s everything I never thought I wanted, but it’s perfect.
It’s everything.
Chapter 12
Mason
Most of the brothers were at the showcase, though not all. That’s apparent when we walk through the door of the frat house, and several sets of eyes turn to look at us. Tia and I both freeze for a minute, then I crouch to haul Tia over my shoulder and run upstairs with her bouncing the whole way, my shirt gripped in her fists. The guys catcall as we go—to be expected from them, but it’s still reassuring, as weird as that sounds.
“What the fuck, Mason? I can walk up the damn steps.” Tia’s irritation is clear in the tone of her voice, but I just smile. There’s not a whole lot that could happen now that would tamp my smile down.
“Your short little legs will take too long.”
She pinches me in the side—hard—and I flinch but don’t put her down or stop. “That was really fucking rude,” she says.
“I’m sorry.” I try to say it as sincerely as I can, but we both know I’m lying.
When we’re inside my room, I set her down on her feet, then shut and lock the door. One of the perks of being the VP of Zeta Alpha Tau is a single room with a lock on the door. No unexpected interruptions. No roommate to worry about. Can’t say as much for the brothers sharing walls with me, but I don’t care. “It’s been months. I’m in a hurry to get you naked.”
“You sure know how to woo a lady.”
“Did you just say ‘woo a lady’?”
“Shut up,” she says with a laugh but stops putting up a fight. She unlaces her Docs and toes them off, then she reaches for the buttons of her shirt. Before she can rid herself of it, I finally snap out of it and reach a hand out, halting her movements.
“I get to do this.”
“I don’t remember you being this bossy.”
I just smile, then take over what she was doing, slipping the buttons through the holes until her shirt gapes at the front, and I brush it from her shoulders. Her bra is that purple lace one I love, and I don’t even pause before I lean down and take one of her nipples in my mouth, tugging on her nipple ring through the fabric.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, her hand going to my hair as I walk her back to the bed, unhooking her bra, then dragging her pants and underwear down her legs.
And then she’s lying on my bed, completely naked.
All I can do is stare.
Spread out on my sheets, she’s as gorgeous as I knew she’d be. I have no idea how long I stare at her, just look at her, soak up everything about her being here in my space.
It’s long enough for her to start to shift uncomfortably, then her sass comes out. “I see you didn’t gain any taste in music in our months apart. I refuse to fuck to Ace of Base, Mason. Refuse.”
That gets me moving, and I strip my clothes off in record time, then do what I’ve wanted to do from day one with her: kiss every inch of her body, starting at her ankles and working my way up, stopping every place in between. I’m going to spend hours worshiping her body, finding all the different ways I can make her come now that we aren’t in a cramped car or public space. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be screaming too loud to hear it, anyway.”
Her laughter is cut off by my tongue against her clit, my fingers sliding easily into her. She’s already so wet, so ready for me, it just makes me throb harder for her. Even though I wanted to take my time, I need her. I need to feel her around me, and when she arches closer to me, her nails clawing into my shoulders as she gasps out a moan, I know she doesn’t want to wait either. After I’ve rolled on a condom, I slide into her, our eyes connecting as I do, and it’s just as good as the first time. Better. Better, because now we don’t have to hide. Better, because now she’s mine. My opposite. My balance. My strongest weakness.
And the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Other books by Brighton Walsh
Caged in Winter
Tessa Ever After
Captive
Exposed
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Worthwhile
Audra North
Jill didn’t expect her semester in Leeds to start with getting dumped by her boyfriend. Especially since she only came to England to be with him. Two weeks in, all she wants to do is go home. Finding love with someone new is definitely not an option. But when she literally stumbles into grad student Stuart’s arms, her experience abroad becomes a lot more worthwhile.
Half a World Away by R. E. M. (1991)
Chapter 1
1995. Devonshire House, University of Leeds, England.
How could he?
I couldn’t stop thinking those words, over and over, as I ran down the stairs, face hot with humiliation and anger and the effect of too many alcopops. I didn’t care that I could barely see through my tears. I was too desperate to get away from what I’d just seen. So I kept one hand on the wall as I stumbled my way downward, trying hard to ignore how the curving descent wasn’t helping my stomach much. After a week of barely eating, all the alcohol I’d had in the past two hours was already burning in my gut, and the winding staircase only added to the roiling discontent.
Not to mention that the high collar of my jacket was already soggy. Ugh. My face must be a mess. A watery, crumpled, heartbroken mess. I just had to get out of here. Out into the cool night air, and then I’d be fine. Shae would probably figure out that I’d left at some point, especially if she saw what I’d just seen.
Who was I kidding? The whole party had probably seen it already.
I didn’t want to stop running until I was back at my dorm. Then I could call my parents to let them know that I wanted to come home. Which was going to suck, because I’d begged them to let me do this program in the first place, and I hadn’t even managed to last two weeks in my semester abroad.
The humiliation of it only made me cry harder, and I stumbled with the force of my sobbing, missing the last step. I pitched forward, my platform sneakers making it impossible for me to find any traction, and all I could do was brace myself for a rough, embarrassing, terrible—
“Oof!” I made impact, the breath whooshing out of me. Strange. That was surprisingly less painful than I’d expected. What did British folks build their floors
out of? This one was rather warm and muscular…
No, wait. Damn it. I hadn’t hit the floor. I was in someone’s arms. Someone strong and masculine-feeling. My face was turned to the side, my cheek pressed against his chest—itseemed that whoever this poor guy was had caught me when I’d fallen, but I was too tear-blinded and drunk on vodka and sorrow to even realize it immediately.
“You all right?” Something vibrated against my ear. His chest, probably.
I dragged a limp hand over my face, rubbing at my eyes with the heel of my palm, and nodded. I felt my cheek rub over his shirt. Mmm, soft. Felt like a nice flannel.
Another swipe over my eyes and my vision finally cleared. I was hanging like a rag doll, both legs still on the bottom step of the winding staircase, the top of my body propped up by a purple-plaid-clad chest.
A muscular chest, from the feel of it.
Not that I was in the mood to notice something like that, really. Not when I’d just witnessed my very-recently-ex-boyfriend sucking face with and practically humping some random girl out in the hallway at our mutual friend’s party.
But something about the comforting way this stranger was holding me was helping keep the tears at bay. I nuzzled deeper into his shirt.
“Right. Uh, well…perhaps—might you be able to stand on your own?” His voice was somewhere between a tenor and a bass, and the tentative way he was speaking made it sound like he was singing me a lullaby. It felt so good. With the emotional upheaval and the drinks and the lack of food this past week while I mourned the unexpected, brutal end of a two-year relationship, I was suddenly very, very sleepy.
I wanted to reply and tell him that I’d rather stay where I was, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to do that. In a good way, though. It felt like a good kind of enervation.
Oh, you magical, flannel-clad, rumbling lullaby chest.
Sleep. I needed sleep, desperately, and for some reason, this chest was making me feel like it might be okay to go ahead and succumb.
The last thing I heard before I surrendered to total exhaustion was that deep voice, sighing and saying, “I suppose that answers my question.”
* * * * *
I woke up shouting.
I’d been dreaming about my ex-boyfriend—Ben—and in my dream I was still back in Pennsylvania while he was in Leeds and his life was in danger, but I couldn’t get to him. I could only watch from afar, in dream-vision, as he was hurt beyond hope, while I sat helpless, half a world away.
But when I pulled myself out from the edge of slumber and opened my eyes to a darkened room, the truth invaded, and along with it, the memories.
Ben and I boarding the flight for Manchester…holding hands…him telling me how excited he was that I was going with him…how proud he was that I was his girlfriend…
But it was all lies. Our first day there, we were assigned to different residences, which didn’t seem to hit him as hard as it did me. The day before classes started, I’d met with my advisor, who hated me and refused to answer any of my requests for help in sorting out my courses over here. And then five days after that—was it only a week ago?—Ben had come to me and told me it was over, whether I liked it or not.
Last night, at the party, there he was kissing someone else, the way he used to kiss me.
I remembered how I’d run away—crying, running, falling…falling…
I’d landed somewhere, but where? I grabbed at the duvet, feeling the strange material. This wasn’t my bed. I shifted under the covers. I was still wearing my pants and shirt, though my jacket and shoes were gone. My head throbbed and behind my eyes felt like sandpaper.
I swear on a bottle of Stoli that I will never drink again.
“You all right?”
I gasped.
The voice had come at me through the darkness. I knew that voice. I knew those words. But whose bed was this? Who owned that voice? So many questions. I had a mental flash of purple plaid, but I was still coming awake, and the only thing I could think to ask was, “Where are my shoes?”
The voice chuckled. A song of sorts. My heartbeat calmed, though I hadn’t even noticed it racing.
“They’re next to the door. How do ladies walk in those things?”
Ladies. Not girls or chicks or women. Ladies. And he’d said it without any mockery in that sweet voice. I thought about what Ben had said when he’d broken up with me. I want to date other chicks.
Shae had said he was an immature asshole who had never deserved my love.
But it had hurt, just the same. It still hurt so bad. Two years together and an adventure that was supposed to be ours, and he wanted to date other chicks.
That was why I’d been running last night. Away from the hurt. But then…
I’d fallen into this stranger at the bottom of the stairs. A guy with a musical voice whose face I couldn’t remember. Actually, I didn’t think I’d even seen his face yet. I’d just stumbled into his arms and gone all drunken American on him.
How humiliating.
But here, in the darkness, it didn’t feel as embarrassing to remember it, so I laughed back, softly, pushing away every other feeling. “I guess I don’t.”
There was a beat of silence, and I swung my head around, looking for the light of a clock or a phone or—well, something. Anything. But all I could see was nothingness, and for the first time since I’d arrived in this country, the nothingness actually felt familiar, almost like I was back home.
Nothingness was nothingness no matter where in the world one was, I supposed.
But the movement made my temples throb, and I couldn’t help the little sound of pain that escaped me.
“There’s water and some paracetamol on the nightstand, if you need it. Should I turn on a light? Or I can flick on a lighter or somesuch if that’s easier for you.”
I shook my head, then realized her probably couldn’t see me. “No, it’s okay. A light is—it would be good, actually.”
I heard a shuffle, and then a click—
“Yowie!” I squinted my eyes shut, lifting my hands to my eyes, trying to block out the sudden, blinding brightness. It felt like knives going into my skull.
Another click, and the room was dark again.
“Ah, shit. Sorry about that. I thought—”
“No, it’s cool.” I didn’t want him apologizing. Why did it feel like Brits loved to apologize for everything? This was probably his bed in his room that I’d commandeered after falling all over him. I wasn’t even sure whether we were still in Devonshire House, but I assumed so.
Crap. Had he carried me to his room, then? Back up the stairs I’d come running down?
Had someone seen him toting around an unconscious girl and thought to stop him? Ask some important questions?
Speaking of people asking questions…
“Do you mind bringing me my jacket? I can use the mini flashlight on my keychain, instead.”
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here, but Shae was probably freaking out at my absence. I remembered thinking earlier that she’d figure out I’d left, but now that I was more sober, I realized that probably hadn’t been the best plan.
I’d met Shae Harper at orientation. I hadn’t hung out with many other people, since I’d been with Ben pretty much nonstop those first few days, but I’d liked Shae immediately. We’d become best friends within five minutes. She was from Leeds and had become my go-to for all life-in-England-related questions. She’d been the one to hug me and bring me ice cream when Ben had dumped me, and we’d gone to the party together last night.
I heard more movement and the shadows next to me got darker, shaping themselves into a person as the air grew warmer. Oh. Wow. This guy smelled good, too. A clean, light scent that was nothing like the heavy cologne a lot of the guys back home wore. Despite my pounding head, I felt my body responding to his scent.
And then something landed on the mattress next to my hip.
“There’s your jacket.” His voice was already getting furthe
r away again. “I, uh, I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of stopping by that party after I’d put you in bed. I wasn’t sure if someone might be looking for you. A lady alone and all…”
He trailed off. Why would I mind if he’d gone there? Had anyone been looking for me? Was he trying to break it to me gently that no one cared?
Had Ben heard that this random guy had caught me and put me to bed? I hoped so.
He continued. “I ran into Shae and described you to her. She said you two were friends, so I let her know you were here and safe, then I came back. It wasn’t more than fifteen minutes.”
Ah. So he was worried about having left me alone in a strange room, even though I’d been passed out and hadn’t noticed at all. That was sweet. And he’d run into Shae. He’d said that like he knew her, but did I know him?
Oh, crap, what if I was supposed to know him and he’d thought all along that I’d recognized him? If I asked him now who he was he’d probably go around telling everyone that the stupid American girl had passed out on someone she’d thought was a total stranger and let him take her home.
No. He wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of guy.
How would you know? Your boyfriend dumped you a matter of hours after swearing he would love you forever.
Touché, self. Way to maximize the suffering.
“Thanks,” I told him weakly, as I fumbled with the jacket, looking for the pocket. Found it. I slipped my hand inside and grabbed my key ring, the keys jingling as I pressed the little button to turn on the flashlight.
