by Teagan Kade
He bends in two, holding his chest laughing. “Fuck, Blake. Who do you think got it for me? My old man practically owns the largest pharmaceutical company in the world. Of course I’m going to take advantage.”
“Does he know you’re dealing too?”
Ethan stands up and shoves me hard out of the stall. The back of my legs collides with the bench running through the center of the room. I slide up against the far lockers on my ass, quickly getting to my feet. “The fuck, Ethan!”
He slams me against the lockers, eyes wide. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I shove him away. He almost loses his footing on the tiles. “Watch it. You don’t think I know about what you offered Tia, about what you do flitting around campus at night, handing out your little baggies of whatever shit you managed to steal from Daddy?”
“You’re way out of line, bro, you and your girly. I haven’t forgotten about the shit she pulled, and you? Taking down the Fuckbook—not okay. Not okay at all.”
“You’re the one out of fucking line.” I throw my towel at him. “Keep the fuck away from me, from Tia, from fucking everyone or—”
“Or what?” he laughs. “Go on. Hit me. You’ll be expelled so fast the door won’t even kiss your ass on the way out. Besides, you forget I know about your little secret, your murky past. What would the dean have to say about that?”
I’ve never wanted to punch someone’s lights out more than in this moment, but I hang on to a slim shred of restraint. “I go down, you go down. You know that.”
He laughs. “Call my bluff, big boy. I fucking dare you.”
I point my finger. “Stay the fuck away.”
He kisses the air. “Come on. I can take it.”
I get out of there before I do something I regret.
I don’t bother putting on my jacket outside. No, the cold’s good. It frees up my head, currently reeling from what I’ve just witnessed.
Ethan’s on the gear, which explains a hell of a lot. I shouldn’t give a shit. It works in my best interest to see him kicked off the team.
But… I should never have confided in him in the first place. I can’t have that getting out, no matter what. It would screw everything up, everything I’ve been working towards. He knows it, I know it and there’s not a damn fucking thing I can do about it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TIA
I’m sitting on a mat watching Lacey on the uneven bars. I can’t even comprehend the kind of skill it takes to get up on those things, but she doesn’t seem fazed. She talks like we are casually walking down the road.
She swings herself over and pushes up into a handstand. “So he forgot about your training session. So what? I’d give anything to drop training, even for one night.”
“I don’t know why I was so upset.” It’s true. It’s not so much the fact training didn’t go ahead, it’s that he forgot about it, forgot about me.
Lacey swings back and flips up into a sitting position, the muscles in her arms straining. “I know why.”
I roll my hand out. “Please enlighten me, O master of the universe.”
She spins and flips off, landing with two feet on the mat with her hands raised above her head. Perfect.
She collapses onto her butt in front of me, my legs doing a little pity twitch as she shifts into the splits. Any wider apart and she’ll tear in two. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you?”
“Who?”
She runs her hands out, leaning forward until her chest touches the mat. “Dean Williams. Blake, you idiot.”
I scratch my neck. “It’s not like that.”
She breathes out and lifts back up into a sitting position. “You’re lying.”
“I am not.” I’m surprised at how defensive I sound.
“Of course, it’s none of my business if you wring your panties out every night over him, but it’s not healthy spending so much time with a guy you clearly like and doing jack about it.”
“Dad would kill me. I don’t think a word even exists for what he’d do to Blake. There are medieval torture manuals that don’t have that kind of hurt in them.”
Lacey rocks forwards, kicking her legs up into a perfect handstand. “You’re twenty-one. You’re really going to let your dad, who only just showed up on the scene, I might add, dictate your love live?”
She has a point. “But Blake… his reputation. I’m not into the whole lay-and-leave thing, which will be even more awkward considering practically living under each other.”
Under Blake. Mmmm.
I push the thought away.
Lacey looks between her arms at me, face rosy. “You could be the one.”
I take a seat on the mat. “The one?”
“His Neo.”
“This isn’t the Matrix, Lace.”
“No, it’s college. It’s far more complicated, but that doesn’t mean this has to be. He wants you. You want him. It’s primal, baby. So what if it doesn’t work out? Have some fun.”
She smiles, not a single hint of strain showing considering she’s upside-down. “I’ve only known you in real life for a couple of weeks now and even I can read you like a book. You want him—all of him.”
“I absolutely do not.” Which sounds even weaker.
She pulls her legs under herself. “Come on, Tia. Whenever I mention his name I can practically see your nips perking up, the fireworks going off in your eyes.”
Time to stop the denial train. “Am I really that transparent?”
She spills forward into a roll, seats herself before me. “Like a plate-glass window, babe. Sorry. Question is, what are you going to do about it? Become his next victim?”
“I don’t think he sees me as one of those girls.”
Tia laughs, reaching for her water bottle and popping the top. “I imagine that’s what they all say. ‘I’m going to be the one to change him, he’ll settle down with me’. You ready to take that risk?”
I don’t mention the fact I’m a virgin. I only get one chance at this thing. “He’s actually kind of sweet once you get to know him.”
She splutters and coughs. “Sweet? You have been spending too much time in the pool. The chlorine’s getting into your brain.”
I can’t believe I’m defending him. “The bad boy thing is an act.”
Lacey looks around, exhaling. “Think about it. You’ve been under the same roof with him for less than a semester. You really think you know him? Take it from someone who has been at Carver longer than most. The swimming guys are trouble. They only care about one thing, and it ain’t your emotional wellbeing. Have fun, like I said, but don’t expect a proposal.”
She takes a sip of her water. “Look, consider this hypothetical: You sleep with him, stars explode yadda-yadda, but… your dad finds out. How do you think that’s going to pan out?”
She has a point, even though she’s directly contradicting herself. I’m more inclined to run with her initial assessment, that Dad doesn’t have rights over my love life. He shouldn’t have rights over anything given his track record. Still, he’s all I have left. I don’t know if I could hurt him like that, plus I’d be putting his relationship with Blake in jeopardy as well. As much as I hate to admit it, hooking up with Blake will never work. Sorry, future orgasmic potential.
Then why do you want it so much?
“Good question.”
Lacey puts her water bottle down, pressing the pop-top closed. “What was that?”
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
She shakes her head. “First sign of madness. Like I said, you’ve got to get out of that pool more.”
…And right between the covers of Blake’s bed.
Jesus, Tia. Chill.
Lacey stands up, pulling her bag with her and shoving her bottle in the side. “I’ve got to go, but feel free to burn off all your unresolved sexual energy in the foam pit. Trust me, it’s a hell of a lot safer than sleeping with a squad member.”
*
Blake’s shoveling through a stir fry when I enter the apartment. It smells kind of amazing. I sit up at the breakfast bar, allow him some space. “Smells good.”
He shifts a baby corn around the plate. “Nothing special.”
So this is how it’s going to be.
I’m ready to apologize, but he gets to it first.
He glances up. “Look, I’m sorry about last night, truly.”
“It’s okay, but we’re good to go tonight, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I look down. “Do you… enjoy spending time with me?”
He pushes the plate to the side, stands tall. “That’s an odd question.”
This is not going how I planned it.
He takes the stool beside me and I swear to god I can feel the heat his body is giving off.
I come undone inside, my lungs seizing, my pulse racing, everything compelling me to get close to him.
“I do enjoy spending time with you.” He looks to the window, a little flush in his cheeks. “Training, our little World of Warcraft sessions… They’re the highlight of my day, honestly.”
There go the butterflies. Why does this feel like we’re back in Junior High, that I’m going to call Lacey up and ask her to ask Billy to ask Blake if he likes me?
Just be up front. What’s the harm in that?
We lock eyes and I feel my composure slipping. “I like it too.”
He starts to smile, shifting closer. “An asshole—isn’t that what you called me in Coach’s office when we first met?”
“You are, but…”
“But?” he repeats, hopeful.
“You’re also kind of, I don’t know, soft.”
He laughs. “Interesting compliment, but I’ll take it.
You’re smart, you’re sexy and I want to bang your brains out. How about that? Instead, I take a deep breath and go with a classic. “I think I have feelings for you”.
It’s out there. It’s done. Relief barrels into me.
His face betrays nothing and for a moment I cannot move, cannot breathe. I hear the sink dripping, a door closing down the hall and all the while I’m just staring into his smoky eyes.
You’ve done it now. Too soon.
He reaches forward and pulls me into a kiss. It happens so fast I can’t do anything but go along with it.
My god.
It’s everything I hoped it would be—hard and soft in equal measure, his scent, his heat, his fingers holding me.
His hands wrap around my waist and he lifts me from the stool, moving us toward my bedroom as his tongue begins to move in my mouth.
I thought it would be awkward at first, but it feels right, natural. I know exactly what to do, lost in the kiss.
He kicks the door open and lays us on the bed, my legs still wrapped around his waist.
When I scoot into position, he moves up beside me, placing his left hand over mine. At that instant, when flesh connects with flesh, when all is silent except for the jack-hammer of my heart, all the drama of the previous night is gone.
We both breathe heavily as his head falls beside me. He rolls his body over until the space between us is almost non-existent. We breathe each other in, urgent and needy.
This is it.
I will my head to move closer. Every inch gained is a mammoth effort, but the closer I draw to him, to that perfect face, the more ground I make. Contact is imminent. Rogue One is good to go.
I see myself in his eyes. My bottom lip hangs limp in anticipation. My whole body is numb and detached. Blood rushes to my head. I need his lips on mine with every square inch of my being. Still, neither of us can bridge the gap, even though our breath pants out into no man’s land in surrender. Everything screams at me Do it, do it! And then, once more, he’s kissing me.
Our lips melt together, our tongues pressing against each other’s in the warmth.
Holy fuck.
When we part the distance between is utterly unbearable, the night cold on my lips. I press myself back to him with urgency and the cycle starts all over again.
By the end of it, I’m sweating profusely, my arousal slick between my thighs. It doesn’t matter that it’s cold. The left side of my face and the arm that’s been flattened beneath our bodies is frozen, my mouth is dry and sticky, but not since the release of Wrath of the Lich King have I been so happy.
My gaze goes to his mouth, my tongue darting out quickly to moisten my lips.
He clenches his jaw, my self-control slipping away. We shouldn’t be doing this, but we are.
I can’t help the bright blush staining my cheeks, the way I’m leaning into him with hungry eyes.
His throat works as he swallows hard, his heated gaze never leaving my lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful. You know that?”
He pops the button of my jeans and takes hold with two hands, tugging them down my thighs, panties hooked inside.
I gasp as the cold air kisses the heated lips of my sex, my ass falling to the bed as the jeans come off completely and I am exposed before him.
“Blake,” I whimper. My voice is high and thin.
“Yes?”
He eases his hand around my sex, cupping it.
Oh god.
If I get any more lightheaded I might very well pass out before the main event. I close my eyes for a second and inhale with a sharp hiss. “I’ve never done this before,” I confess.
He presses two fingers inside the slick heat of my pussy, moving slowly in my wetness. “You’re a virgin?”
His fingers reach confirmation. “Shit. You are a virgin.”
The heel of his palm presses up against my clit. I’m dripping wet, breathing his name. “Blake, please.”
I rock my pelvis hard against his hand as he continues to press the sensitive nub, rubbing, and rubbing, and…
Sweet Jesus.
He’s looking right into my eyes, searching for something, but all my attention is drawn to that one sensitive spot between my legs under his control, drawn until I’m writhing and whimpering for release.
I pant, breathless, as he comes forward and takes my face in hand, pressing his lips against my own with new determination.
My hands reach out to the sides, fingers clawing at the sheets.
Everything is forgotten in that moment as we melt together, his hard body pressing up against mine, his cock stiff and ready against my leg. He’s hard for you.
His tongue probes a little deeper. I curl mine over the top, the heat in my core rising and threatening a full-blown implosion as the pad of his thumb brushes over my slit.
Help me, I beg, to no particular entity.
I break apart enough to moan “Blake” into his ear, his fingers moving around the perimeter of my sex, teasing and testing my wetness.
It’s electric, beyond what I imagined. I’m wired, skin on fire wherever his fingers work, my pussy folding open at his touch, preparing itself for him, and I want to give myself over, to give up all control if only for a moment to release this tension.
I press myself into the crook of his shoulders, fingers moving from the sheets to grip his back. I mew as the pressure on my clit resumes, my spine kicking forwards and my hips rolling desperate for more.
I open my eyes and I see the photo of Mom, Dad, and me on my dresser. It’s my undoing. I look into their eyes and I can’t do this. I can’t betray my father’s trust no matter what he’s done, or hasn’t.
I lightly push Blake away. The offence is clear on his face. “What’s wrong? I can slow down if you like. We don’t have to… you know.”
I curl up into a ball, self-consciousness washing over me in waves. I pull a blanket up to cover myself. “I’m sorry. I need time. I can’t…”
He cups my face. I can see how much he wants this, how much it’s killing him to get this close. “Tell me what I can do.”
I can’t even look at him, casting my head downwards. “Go, please. I need to think.”
“Tia…”
/>
I look up to him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
He stands, cock bulging impossibly hard. “I’ll be next door if you change your mind.”
He leaves and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. He doesn’t slam it, doesn’t exactly make a point of it, but I’m sure he’s annoyed, and why shouldn’t he be? I’m leading him on. I start to cry, have no idea why. I am not this person, the ‘I need time’ type. This is college. I should be free. Instead, I feel trapped. By what, I simply don’t know.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLAKE
UCLA’s quite the venue. The best of the best are here. This time I’m on the ball. I watch my stuff, make sure no one touches it but me. I keep to myself, focus. This is the last meet before the Olympic qualifiers. A win here is one of the last steps to Rio.
Time to take out some sexual frustration.
Coach and Tia settle themselves into the crowd. I watch them from balcony below. Tia and I still haven’t talked about that night, but at least now I know the possibility is there.
Someone taps me on the shoulder.
It’s Michael fucking Phelps.
He smiles. “Blake Johnson, right?”
I reach out to shake his hand. “Yes, sir.”
He’s not dressed for swimming. The guy’s got nothing left to prove. He’s a legend. “I’m a fan,” he says. “You could be one of the best.”
“Thanks.”
He leans in. “Guess it helps when you’ve got a third leg.”
I roll my eyes, struggling to believe Phelps himself is throwing around dick jokes. “Don’t believe the hype.”
“My man,” he laughs. “I’m all over the hype. Don’t let me down, you hear?”
“I won’t.”
He drifts off to the stands and I remain there not really comprehending what just happened. Yes, Phelps had his share of drama out of the pool, but he put in the effort where in mattered—in the water. No one can begrudge him that. He’s the very definition of the American dream—work hard, reap the rewards. Maybe this cool change with Tia’s for the best.
Phelps—He’s a legend, alright. He’s also the guy holding all the records I’m going to smash in Rio.
