by S. L. Scott
“Can I stay?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t throw me out just from the suggestion alone. She’d have every right to do so, but I hope she doesn’t.
“You can stay,” she replies though she doesn’t sound convinced she’s doing the right thing, but I’m not going to argue. This perfect angel has given me another chance and I won’t blow it this time.
“It’s late. You want to go to bed? I’ll hold you while we sleep. I promise not to do anything else.” The alcohol from earlier mixed with the emotions of tonight has worn me down.
She takes me by the hand and leads me to the couch. “I’m sorry we have to sleep on the couch.”
Through my exhausted brain, I offer, “We don’t have to. We can go to mine.”
“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head with worry.
“Nothing tonight, but holding and sleeping. Scout’s honor.” I hold up the Boy Scout’s promise sign.
She acquiesces as she leans her cheek against my chest. “Evan?”
I rub her back, giving her any comfort I can because I know I’m damn lucky that she’s letting me back in even if it’s just for tonight. “Hmm?”
“Promise me tomorrow that you’ll be there when I wake up.”
My chest aches as her words stab my heart. I can’t show my weakness, but I can give her what she wants because it’s what I want, too. “I’ll be there, I promise.”
She releases a sigh then says, “Okay, let me grab a few things and we can go, but first, I really need to know who the girl at the beach was. You said you weren’t with her, but it looked—”
“I’ve been with her before.” I feel ashamed of my past, but I won’t lie to her. “One time. Over a year ago.”
“She kissed you—”
“I didn’t kiss her tonight. I didn’t bring her to the bonfire or leave with her. She was there and wanted to hook up. I told her I wasn’t interested.” I look back up because I know this might set us back again. “I think it was obvious to everyone there who I’m interested in. You know my history or rumors of my history, Mallory. I can’t change it, so please don’t hold it against me. It’s not who I am anymore.”
I turn back around feeling exposed and fucking vulnerable. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like that I have to admit my deepest secrets to her, but if it opens the door to her heart even just a little, it’s worth it. Staring out the glass door, I watch the rain turn to a light drizzle then stop. Hawaiian showers happen often, but don’t last long.
She doesn’t say anything as she moves about gathering her stuff for the night. I realize the boxers I’m wearing fit too well, too well to be hers. She put me in some other guy’s underwear. I’d be bothered if I wasn’t impressed by her nerve. When she’s ready, I take her hand and we walk to the car. She’s different tonight—fragile—more careful. I’ve done this to her. I’ve broken her spirit and her trust. Silently, I vow to never hurt this girl again.
“You drove drunk tonight… a couple of times. You shouldn’t do that,” she says, not reprimanding, just informing me. “I’ll drive.” She holds her hand out for the keys.
Placing them in her hand, my fingertips scrape lightly across her palm and our eyes meet. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have.”
She nods and walks to the driver’s side of the car.
It’s quiet in the car on the drive over, and yet feels calming under the circumstances. We walk hand in hand down the path, and I open the door allowing her to enter first. She stops, and peeks in, hesitant to enter. I wait a few seconds, and then ask, “Are you all right?”
She walks all the way inside, turns with an unconvincing smile on display, and says, “Fine.”
I set her bag down and step into host mode. “I’ll grab you some water, unless you’d like something stronger?”
“No, water’s good.” She takes her bag, and asks, “Do you mind if I get ready in the bathroom.”
Although I’m disappointed I won’t get to see her naked, I’m eased by the fact that I’ll be holding her all night. “Make yourself at home.”
I bring the waters to the nightstand and stand there looking down at her boxers on my body. After taking them off, I pull a pair of my own boxer briefs from the dresser and slip them on. I sit on the edge of the bed listening to the various sounds coming from the bathroom: the faucet being turned on and off, the brushing of teeth, and the zipper of her bag. The door opens and she appears like an angel in the doorway with the glow from the bathroom light illuminating her from behind. She’s the hottest damn angel I could ever imagine even dreaming of, much less seeing. She’s wearing a tight white tank top and a pair of white panties. So simple and yet, she’s gorgeous.
Heading straight for me, she sits down on my lap. Her arm wraps around my shoulders, and she smiles at me. “I didn’t think I’d ever be back here and now that I am, I’m glad I came.”
“Why are you glad? I need to know. I need to hear you tell me.”
She crawls on top of the covers then tucks her body underneath. Flopping back onto the pillows, she says, “Because this is where I slept the best since I’ve been in Hawaii.”
Her playful side makes my heart pound from pure happiness. I lean down and kiss her on the shoulder before getting up to brush my teeth. Not able to contain my own theories on the reason she slept here so well, I say, “You sure it wasn’t exhaustion from that night’s activities?”
She grabs the pillow next to her and tosses it at me as hard as she can. Scrambling out of the line of fire, I laugh as I run into the bathroom.
When I return, she’s curled up on her side, facing my side of the bed. I slide under the covers and brush a section of hair from her forehead. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi.” There is a lightness in her eyes that eases my worries. “You still sleepy?” she asks.
“No, I think I’ve gotten my second wind.”
“I think I did, too,” she whispers as her fingertips stroke feather light over my cheek. Her hand comes to rest on my neck. “Can I ask you more questions?”
“Sure, but only if I get to ask some.”
“That’s fair.” She acts as if she doesn’t know what she wants to ask me, but I can tell it’s a ploy. “Why aren’t you in school?”
I glance away, chuckling before I respond because one thing I’ve learned about Mallory is there is always more going on inside that pretty head of hers than she lets on. “I’ve gone two years. Technically, I’m a junior.”
“Why aren’t you in school? I mean, Kate told me you didn’t go last year and you’re not registered for the fall either. Why?”
I try to formulate the perfect answer. Usually, I try to avoid this line of questioning and yet this is the first thing she wants to know about me. Figures. “I got into some trouble. I didn’t want my grades to slip and there was no way I could’ve stayed and not ruin my grade point average.”
“That seems contradictory. If you cared that much about your grades then you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble in the first place, right?” She raises her eyebrow at me not scolding, but curious, sincerely interested in what I have to say. “What kind of trouble?”
How do I answer this without saying too much? “I got a little out of hand with my professors.”
She doesn’t say anything, but a fresh smirk on her face signifies she understands completely. I think she has me figured out more than I want to admit.
“I kind of thought I was smarter than them,” I add.
She laughs softly, rolling onto her back. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Geez, I have no idea,” I say, letting a little sarcasm slip out.
She rolls back over and rubs my arm. Her gentle touches affect me more than she knows. She is warmth and sunshine and the light to my dark. She makes me want to bare my soul even though I shouldn’t.
“Where’d you go to school anyway?”
This always reveals more than I’m comfortable sharing with people. I’m usually embarrassed because they will instantl
y think I’m an arrogant prick, like I’m bragging. “A school in England for a year and then I transferred to one over in Connecticut.”
Her eyes narrow and I can almost see her brain cogs turning. “Where in England?”
I roll over, avoiding eye contact, draping my arm over my eyes, and whisper, “A small town outside of London.”
“Oxford?”
Um… I don’t answer.
“And, the school in Connecticut, Yale?”
Closing my eyes, I think of my cover. I always have a cover with girls and yet nothing comes to mind to help me out when I need it most.
She shimmies against me, resting her body half on top of mine. I take a deep breath, wanting to grab her and rub against her and kiss her breathless. I desperately want to be inside of her, but after taking another deep breath, I come to my senses. I promised her I wouldn’t make a move and need to keep that promise.
“Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“You went to Oxford and Yale?”
“Yeah.”
I move my arm, bringing her tighter against me so she can’t see my face. “Yes, those are the two schools. Have you heard of them?” I ask an octave too high to sound natural and once again sarcastically. I’m kind of hoping this will throw her off the scent. I also know she’s smart, so I know this plan won’t actually work.
She moves over me, hovering above and looks down into my eyes. Her minty breath is warm and makes me feel dizzy from the close proximity. This is a similar feeling to how I felt the first day I spent with her.
She hits me in the arm. “You’re really fucking smart then?”
“Just because you go to those schools doesn—”
“Admit it! You’re a smarty pants.” She giggles then says, “I already knew it anyway. So you can just admit it now.”
She’s adorable. “Fine,” I say with a smile plastered on my face. “I’m a smarty pants. Happy?”
Lowering all the way down, she rests on my chest. “But not just smart. You’re like super intelligent.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t feel the need to say anything more about it. “Can we change the topic? It’s my turn anyway. What year are you?”
She pauses as if she’s now a little uncomfortable being the center of the conversation. “I’m a senior this fall. You already know where I go to school, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re observant, always paying attention to the details. What gave it away?”
“Beside the University of Colorado t-shirt you slept in the other night, Noah put the mascot on your surfboard.”
“Ahhh, yes, that’s right. The surfboard.”
“I don’t want to talk about him or that board. Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
“Oh!” She seems surprised. I hear a hint of irritation as if the topic itself is offensive. “If I had a boyfriend, do you think I would’ve slept with you?”
“No, but making sure, just in case. I don’t want to have to deal with an angry haole. And for the record, we haven’t done that much sleeping together.” I snicker.
With a loud laugh, she rolls onto her back and rubs her stomach. I place my hand on top of hers and she doesn’t move it, which lets me know I haven’t overstepped any boundaries.
She surprises me by continuing. “I had a boyfriend last year, but we broke up a few months ago.”
“Why’d you break up? Better offer? Did you have a line of guys waiting to take his place?”
An annoyed scoff escapes her and she replies while entwining our fingers. “He broke up with me for another girl. He’d been cheating on me for a while though.”
“He’s an idiot, baby.” I say this with more passion than I probably should, but he is a total asshat for cheating on her. Looking on the bright side—she’s in Hawaii because he was stupid for letting her go. Maybe I should thank him.
Her hand leaves mine, and she brushes my chin with the back of it. “You’re sweet.”
“I’m super intelligent too, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” she says.
I can’t keep my hands off of her any longer. Screw the promise. I roll over maneuvering between her legs while holding her by the hips and kiss her belly button. She smiles down at me, and asks, “How long you were you planning on torturing us?”
“I promised I’d be a good boy.” I lean down again and dip my tongue into her belly button and swirl it. “Is this being a good boy?”
Her uninhibited laugh is an angel’s voice pulling me from my life’s wreckage. “That’s being a very good boy.” Her fingers roam through my hair and lightly tug.
With my fingertips, I push her tank top further up her body to expose her stomach, but keep her breasts hidden from view. I slide my hands up and down her curves several times then rest my cheek on her stomach. I need a moment to collect myself, to gain control over my urges because even if this girl begged me, I wouldn’t make love to her. That might be a lie. Okay, that’s totally a lie. If she was begging me I would take her in an instant, but I shouldn’t, not tonight. I close my eyes and wonder at what point in the last few weeks I started caring about anyone other than myself. Sensing my unease, she strokes her fingers through my hair in a comforting manner, gentle. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks.
I sigh, keeping my eyes closed. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Evan. You told me you wouldn’t lie to me.”
She’s got a point and she’s not afraid to use it. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” I keep my head lowered, knowing what she’s going to ask next, so I save her the trouble. “I like you.” Suddenly, I feel like I’m ten years old and telling a girl that I have a crush on her. “I care about you.”
“You haven’t opened your heart in a long time. I know that was hard for you. Thank you for opening it for me. I care about you, too.” Then she adds, “Sometimes I worry that I care too much.”
I look at her and our eyes connect. Her sweet soul visibly displayed just for me in the soft moonlight of the room. My lips part and my breathing slows as I analyze my beautiful girl’s face. My girl. I still need to make her my girl, only mine, and tonight I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Chapter 17
Evan
Mallory Wray is stunning, especially when she goes after what she wants.
“I know you said you’d be good, but do you think you might be a little bad for me?” she asks. Her cheeks turn the perfect shade of rose petal pink, embarrassed for being direct.
I could easily give her all she wants right now. I want the same, but she deserves more than a few tried and true smooth moves and a certain perfected smile. I have to use my mind with her which turns me on so fucking much.
Exhaling loudly, I’m frustrated that my conscience has decided to intervene. The words fall from my lips before I have a chance to stop them. “I want to be with you so bad, baby, but I think we should wait.” She moves a few inches higher on the bed, purposely positioning the apex of her thighs right above my mouth. “Are you trying to drop a hint here?” I ask.
“Am I being too subtle?” She tilts her pelvis up and taps me on the chin… twice.
“Subtlety is my specialty.”
“Really? I never took you as the subtle type,” she says, mocking me.
“Watch out little girl, I can do subtle.” I look her in the eyes and take her challenge. Taking her panties in hand, I, oh so slowly, slide them down. I lift up on bended knees and start removing them from her ankles when she playfully kicks them off and they go flying over my head. “That’s not so subtle,” I tease. “Oh, screw subtlety!” I pin her ankles to the bed beside me and bend forward.
Giddiness overcomes her, but her impatience shines through. She tilts her middle up toward my mouth again.
I don’t do this. I don’t go down on women. I have done it before, years ago, when I was a horny-assed teenager in high school. But even then I did it only to my girlfriend at the time, never casual
ly and never to a girl I was fucking for the week. It’s way too personal for that. But this is different, not cavalier at all. Mallory has awakened something in me that’s long been dormant.
Desire bubbles inside of me. I haven’t desired anyone in years. I’ve lusted and I’ve always gotten what I lusted after. But desire, desire feels like an old friend that I didn’t know I missed until it returned. I desire this girl. I need to taste this girl. It’s something I mistakenly didn’t do the first couple of times we were together. I took her for granted. I won’t make that mistake again.
I adjust my scruffy face toward her wet center. The phrase ‘be careful what you wish for because you just might get it’ comes to mind. I dip my tongue, worried this might be the end of me in the best of ways. I want her like I’ve never wanted any woman before in my life. I just don’t want to screw this up. I need her to like this, to like me.
The first contact makes my head swim as she wriggles and releases a quiet moan. I take her by the hips, holding her down. I want her to feel how beautifully connected we are. I stiffen my tongue and swirl it quickly where I know she’ll react. I start to relax and indulge by bringing my tongue into my mouth and savoring her sweetness. My eyes close at the sensation, and I quickly delve back in wanting to devour her. Her hips move beneath my hands as I lick. In this moment, I can be everything she needs me to be and use my tongue to make love to her.
“Oh God! Yes!” She cries out.
Surprised by such a strong verbal response, I back up and slip two fingers inside. She thrusts with pleasure, grabbing my hair tightly in her hands and squeezes, tugs, pulls, and encourages me. I’m not done with her. I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck.
She’s not pleased by the pause in action, and looks up. When she sees what I’m doing, her mouth drops open, and she watches as I push them into her again, methodically, while resting my other hand on her abdomen. I watch as she tosses her head back, panting. I’ve never felt possessive over a girl, ever, but this girl is different. She challenges me in so many ways and owning her so completely right now makes me feel powerful just from the thought.
