by Marie Hall
They were the leaders. They were upperclassman. Strive to always excel, blah, blah, blah. She’d heard it before, and had no desire to walk over there now.
Elisa sat with Julian as she waited for Coach to wrap things up. Jules was still tense, still casting murderous glances at both Ava and Thomas whenever they’d walk past.
And Elisa might have been tempted to write the whole thing off as just a fluky misunderstanding, except that when Coach finally released them for the day, Ava turned back around and with a tiny smirk said, “Have fun swimming extra laps.”
Thomas didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched when he glanced between her and Ava and there was a look in his eyes that Elisa vaguely recognized. She’d seen it the night they’d broken up: regret.
He stood there looking at her for a moment, his shock of red hair standing up around his head. Julian vibrated with tension so thick that Elisa had had to rub her hand up and down his arm in a soothing stroke to make sure he didn’t do something stupid.
If Thomas meant to say something, she’d never know it. With a heavy sigh, he gripped Ava’s left elbow and almost dragged her behind him toward the locker rooms.
“Elisa, laps!” Coach cried out, twirling his finger in the air as he’d walked off toward the men’s locker room, confidant that even if didn’t hang around she’d do exactly what he’d ordered her to do.
Julian squeezed his eyes shut.
“Baby,” Elisa spoke into his palm. “I have extra laps I have to swim, can you just sit there and wait for me?”
His nostrils flared as he gave her a choppy dip of his head.
“Hey.” She patted his chest until he looked at her.
When he did he still seemed angry. “I wanted to punch her.” He said it slowly.
And though she’d generally frown at the thought of him wanting to do bodily harm to a lady, she didn’t quite feel the same way when it came to Ava March.
But she didn’t want to escalate the situation either. Whatever it was that Ava had done today, Elisa would make damn sure she never gave her the opportunity to do again.
“I love you, Jules. I’m okay though, I promise. I’m a big girl.”
His knuckles grazed her cheek tenderly. That touch made her smile, it also made her anxious to hurry up and finish because there were a couple of things she wanted to do with him tonight.
One of which had to do with her, and him, their bed, and a big bottle of chocolate syrup.
Chapter 13
A month later Elisa sighed as Julian straddled her sore aching body and began to knead lavender oil onto her naked back. She’d stripped down just to her bikini thong.
Coach had been brutal today, two hours of almost nonstop swimming, her body was spent, but unfortunately she didn’t have the luxury of getting to go to sleep just yet. It was past eight at night, however she still had to wrap up her English lit paper for Stringer’s class in the morning.
They were studying John Milton’s neoclassical epic poem Paradise Lost. The point of the paper wasn’t to expound on the fall of Satan and the rise of man, but on what the movement itself was all about.
Neoclassicism was the concept of restrain and order. That given the flawed nature of mankind, putting limits on what one said or did was actually better than trying to reach for something beyond expectation. Elisa couldn’t figure out how the movement had gotten to be so popular, in fact, she’d even been irritated by it, everything had had a “this is this and that is that and the world is flat and don’t look to the stars” kind of feel to it. Maybe she was an anarchist, but she much rather preferred the freedom of romanticism to neoclassicism.
But maybe the real reason why she couldn’t enjoy neoclassicism was because being with Julian wasn’t reasonable and sensible. It was carnal chaos, combustion and fire, madness and an all-consuming passion for more. They were the very definition of romanticism.
It was like playing with fire. Beautiful to look at, but dance too close to the flame and you’d be consumed by the very fire that’d given you life.
She sighed, sinking her face deeper into his pillow.
Elisa wondered if Julian had any clue that on the mornings when he’d be the one to get up early for class, she’d roll over to his side of the bed and breathe in his scent. She loved the way he smelled, nothing in the world smelled quite like him—spicy and cool and clean and sweet all at the same time.
“What’s the matter?” Julian tapped out on her lower spine, as if sensing the heaviness of her thoughts.
Grabbing her laptop, she powered up her voice recognition software before slipping the mouthpiece on. It’d been Julian’s idea, so that when Elisa’s hands weren’t free she could still carry on a conversation with him.
“I don’t know what to do, Jules,” she said, tilting the screen so that he could read her words.
An instant later he asked, “About what?”
“About my major.”
His hands were so firm and strong as he kneaded out sore muscles. She wiggled when he hit a particularly sensitive spot just above her hipbone. If he didn’t watch it, she’d soon be nothing but a puddle of goo at his feet.
The man had the most amazing hands ever. Elisa couldn’t decide what she liked more, his body or his hands. Most days, it was body. Definitely his body.
But then he’d touch her with his masterful hands and her opinion would flip on a dime.
She tugged her lip between her teeth at the feel of his hard thickness poking her bottom, causing her to squirm, and him to groan in response.
“Stop moving or I’ll get off,” he said and then gave her a gentle swat, which didn’t bank her heat a single bit.
Elisa had told him before the massage that as much as she would love to fool around for hours, she just didn’t have the time. So she’d made him promise to be good. With Julian it was a feast or famine type of thing for her. If they started, they’d go at it like bunnies for hours, so it was best in a case like tonight to not start at all.
Problem was, just getting a massage from him, smelling his familiar scent, and knowing that beneath the sleep pants he was commando, made her forget things like papers and responsibilities.
She buried her face in the comforter and forced herself to think about Ava, which helped kill the lust immediately.
“Sorry,” she said, and then muttered, “Not sorry.” Elisa thought she’d said it softly enough the mic wouldn’t pick it up, but it had.
Feeling the tremors of his laughter coarse through her, she tossed him a flirty grin over her shoulder.
Sometimes, like now, when the reality of their situation impressed itself upon her, Elisa felt like her heart might burst from too much emotion. The past month with Julian had been amazing, feeling more like a dream than real life. Like it couldn’t last. Like being this happy for this long was impossible, that right around the corner waited heartbreak and broken street.
That soon reality would come crashing down around them, they’d fight, or she’d wake up one morning and realize that the bond they’d developed growing up side by side had been nothing more than a temporary phase and now that they’d scratched the itch they were over it. Or she was over it, or he was over it.
His knuckles grazed her cheek; his sea-green gaze swallowed her up. “Roll over,” he signed.
Yanking out the mouthpiece, she rolled onto her back. Julian set her laptop on the floor, and then lifted her palm up, sliding his fingers slowly through hers.
The air quivered between them like the delicate string of a spider web in a gentle spring rain. Elisa swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze from his as his eyes grew soft and his heavy thigh moved between her own.
With their hands still joined, he traced the valley between her breasts. She gasped, rising up to meet his touch, stomach quivering at the trail of heat he left in his wake.
There was a type of intensity to utter silence that was hard to define. Julian made no moaning sounds as he caressed her. He only breathed, in and out. Filli
ng his lungs with her scent as she filled her own with his.
Soon his lips joined in on the assault of her body. She bit her lip, swallowing the cry of his name when he took her nipple into his mouth. There was an inherent eroticism to silence she’d never understood before. Each kiss, each swipe of his tongue on hers, where only the sounds of their breathing could be heard painted everything in shades of the illicit.
They weren’t in their apartment, in their room, safe from the prying eyes of the outside world. No, they were Romeo and Juliet stealing away into the night, hidden in shadow, quiet despite the racing of their hearts, knowing they had only this moment to come together. Being with Julian felt like eating from the forbidden fruit; that was the type of passion they shared.
The cool metal of his pierced tongue, coupled with the heat of her body, made her shudder and tremble beneath him. Releasing her hand, Julian slid his fingers up her throat, framing her slender neck in his callused grip.
She tipped her jaw, arching up beneath him as she clutched at his back, scoring his flesh with her nails.
His other hand moved down, down, down, sliding beneath the hem of her thong, until his questing fingers slipped between the slick folds of her sex.
The hand on her throat moved up just a little, just enough for his thumb to stroke her bottom lip as two of his other fingers slipped deep inside her.
Elisa sucked his thumb into the heat of her mouth as their eyes met.
Julian couldn’t speak, but she heard him nonetheless.
She swallowed hard as his fingers pumped harder. Wanton, and desperate to get him closer, she clawed at him, wanting him all over her. Wanting not only his body, but his soul too.
When she tried to close her eyes, too overcome by the sensations coursing through her, he shook his head, refusing to allow her to look away.
Needing him to feel as crazed as she now did, she moved her hand from his back, to the piece of steel wrapped in velvet beneath his pants. A thrill of adrenaline pulsed through her when his body trembled. Julian yanked his thumb out of her mouth, planting his hand firmly on the mattress beside her hip for support.
The muscles of his arm flexed and trembled as she rubbed her thumb along the tip of him, her movements sure and strong as she stroked him. Playing with his piercing and watching as his pupils dilated. He pulled his lip into his mouth, and she found herself mimicking his movements.
His nostrils flared, so did hers.
He blinked, and she did too.
He thrust harder, she moved faster.
She was so close, so close. It was hard to focus, to concentrate on keeping her eyes open, wanting desperately to lose herself in the darkness of the little death, to shatter in her lover’s arms as he splintered in hers.
Then he smiled, just a small twitch of his lips before he claimed hers, and the sweetness of that touch, mingled with the wicked play of his skilled fingers deep inside her channel, it was her undoing. With a final flick of her wrist, Julian came for her as she shattered beneath him.
Nuzzling her cheek, he said, “Now, let’s talk.”
Laughing, feeling suddenly much less sore, she gave him a peck before getting up to clean herself off. She was just turning off the sink when Julian padded in behind her.
Tossing on a pair of comfy sleep pants and top, she then leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms as she watched him. His eyes found hers in the mirror. Elisa could read him so well that she understood the question in his gaze and answered immediately.
“This is nice.” She shrugged. “You and me. I like it.”
Turning off the tap, he wiped his hands on a towel before pulling on his sweats. Julian wasn’t as ripped as some of the guys on her team; he didn’t have eight-pack abs. But his stomach was lean and chiseled, and he had that vee where abs met hips that always drove her absolutely crazy, made her weak in the knees.
His body was a masterful work of art and Elisa didn’t think she’d ever get tired of looking at him.
Her smile grew wider when he came back to her side and took her in his arms, running his hand lightly up and down her spine, making her skin tingle.
“I like it too, Smile Girl.” He kissed the top of her head.
Thinking it was probably safer to do her homework on the couch instead of the bed, she grabbed her books and laptop. Julian joined her just a minute later, bringing her a glass of water and a red apple.
Giving him a grateful nod, she took a bite and then handed it back to him. He took a bite right over the top of hers. They shared everything. Their lives, their bodies, even her apples.
Tossing his legs up on the coffee table, he asked, “So talk to me—what’s wrong with your major?”
“Other than the fact that I still don’t have one,” she snorted, “nothing.”
His lopsided grin caused her heart to stutter. “You’re a junior. I’m sure by now you’ve found something that interests you.”
Nibbling on her lip, she gave him a suggestive wink.
Planting a hand against his chest, he groaned and shifted in his seat as if adjusting himself. “As much as I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that, Smile Girl, I’m pretty sure I know what it is you should major in.”
She frowned. “You do? I’m not even sure.”
With a tsk, he pointed to her book. “Do you know how much your eyes sparkle when you’re reading those books? How animated you get when you talk about ancient texts?”
Elisa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do they?”
He shrugged. “Heard you talk about library science once.”
“Yeah, but there’s no money in that.” She sighed, thinking about her class. Jules was right, she’d never had so much fun in one of her classes as she was now having in Stringer’s, studying up on the Renaissance, and medieval literature. Learning how to properly have intelligent discourse over the merits of Picaresque versus Bildungsroman.
Bildungsroman, like what in the hell was that, right? She’d never even heard of it in high school, and yet now she didn’t even need to think about the fact that it was a style of writing that focused on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood. She was barely a month into her English course and Julian was right, she was completely fascinated.
Stringer wasn’t really going in depth with the various styles, the course was mainly just an overview of literature through the centuries, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wish to delve deeper into the subject matter.
“So what?” he signed a moment later. “As long as you’re happy, then who cares about money?”
She snickered. “Happy doesn’t pay the bills.”
Wrinkling his nose, he patted her knee. “If you can make enough to live, then that’s all you need. Money can’t buy you happiness, Smile Girl.”
Scooting into him until her thigh pressed up against his, she brushed her fingers through the feathered tips of his hair, drowning in his sea-green eyes.
“When did you get to be so smart?”
Her parents were probably not going to be very happy about her pursuing such a degree. When she said there was no money in it, she wasn’t lying. Elisa would basically be little more than a starving artist, but just the idea of someday traveling to Rome, or London, and getting to tour the great libraries, smelling the musty odor of leather-bound books that rarely saw the light of day anymore filled her body with a jolt of adrenaline.
Snorting, he crossed his arms behind his back and, closing his eyes, rested his head against the cushion. Before getting back to work she trailed her finger down his bristled cheek, tomorrow she’d go to her counselor and officially announce her major.
~*~
Gradually they settled into an easy rhythm, and Elisa was happy. Unbelievably, and utterly happy, even if their schedules had become so crazy, stupid busy that they had to schedule date nights well in advance.
“You need to come,” Chas said, her voice clearly exasperated over the line.
“Luke set this thing up, and he’ll totally freak if no one shows.”
Elisa sighed. She hated partying. It just wasn’t her thing. Every once in a while, maybe, but she was swamped with homework and training for the final meet of the season.
What made this one so much more important to her than any of the others was that Coach had mentioned the possibility of Clive Amsler being there. Clive Amsler was literally one of the best swim coaches in the world of competition. For the past twenty-six years he’d had the distinction of training five Olympians, two of who were multiple gold medal winners.
Just the thought of it made Elisa want to puke. Coach hadn’t out and out said that Clive was there because of her, but the intent had been clear enough.
“I’m not sure, Chas.”
Julian frowned and asked who it was. For the past two months Jules had been more than a little stressed out. He was just barely scraping by with a low B average in his math course, and he was only doing that good because his nights were mostly spent in the library with his nose in his books.
His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. He hadn’t been sleeping much. She tossed her leg over his lap and brushed her fingers through his hair. “Chastity,” she mouthed.
With a weary sounding sigh, he nodded before taking a bite out of the apple they were sharing.
She felt bad for him. Elisa still couldn’t understand why when someone was majoring in the arts, math classes were still such an important requirement, but they were.
This was the first time in seven days that they’d actually had a chance to sit down and eat dinner together.
Her because of her extreme swim schedule, not to mention the twenty hours a week she worked as the campus library secretary, and he because of the major cram sessions he’d been doing just to help him stay afloat in Calculus.
“Come on, Lisa,” Chas wheedled. “Your meet’s not until next Saturday, you’ll have plenty of time to rest and recover before then.”
Elisa was the type of athlete who barely left her house during swim season, let alone to party and drink. She really didn’t want to go, but maybe that’s exactly what she and Julian needed—some time to relax without the stress of books, or meets, or not getting to see each other all piling up.
