Holding On

by Allie Everhart

  He meets me at the door on his crutches. It's nice to see him standing up for a change. He's really tall.

  "Hello, Mr. Baxter," I say in a formal tone. "I'm here to clean your house."

  "Hey." He smiles and leans down to kiss me.

  "I don't think you're allowed to do that, Mr. Baxter," I tease.

  "And I don't think you're supposed to show up here looking so damn sexy." He pulls me inside and closes the door.

  My eyes fall shut as he lays soft kisses down my neck. "I have to clean."

  "Forget the cleaning." He brings me to the couch, tossing his crutches aside as he sits down and pulls me onto his lap. "I'm giving you the afternoon off." He cradles the back of my head as his lips cover mine, parting them and taking the kiss deeper.

  He kisses better than anyone I've ever dated, which explains why I can't stop kissing him. I feel his hand on my thigh and secretly wish he'd move it up to where I want it. I want him to touch me there. I need him to. But instead his hand goes to the top of my dress, unbuttoning it down to my bra.

  He roughly shoves the fabric down which makes me break from his lips, inhaling sharply.

  He gives me that sexy bad-boy grin of his. "Can I?"

  I bite my lip and nod. His mouth lowers to my breast and I softly moan as he sucks and licks and gently tugs on my nipple. His hand returns to my thigh and he slowly slides it under my dress until he reaches my panties. Finally! He strokes a path over the fabric, back and forth, with a light, teasing touch that's pure torture. I rub myself against his hand, begging for more. He pushes my panties aside, then slips two fingers inside me.

  I gasp at his boldness but love it. He knew what I wanted it and didn't make me wait. I feel his erection pressing against me and all I can think about is how much I want it inside me. I said I wouldn't do it, but I've changed my mind. I haven't been with a guy in almost a year and I need this. I really, really need this.

  "Oh God!" I cry out as I come, sweat trickling down my chest. The air conditioner's cranked up so it's cold in here but I'm burning up inside.

  Ethan covers my mouth with his and kisses me as his hand slides back down my thigh, gently squeezing it.

  "Better than cleaning?" he asks, smiling against my lips.

  "Way better." I slide off his lap and unbutton the rest of my dress while kicking my shoes off.

  Ethan's eyes rake over my body. "What are you doing?"

  "Undressing." I unhook my bra and toss it aside along with my dress.

  "I can see that. Are you saying we're—"

  I kiss him before he can finish. Then I quickly undo his belt and his shorts.

  He stops and looks at me. "You sure about this?"

  "More than sure."

  He smiles. "Let's go to the bedroom. I don't want to do it here."

  We make our way to his room, which isn't a mess like it was last week. He really did clean so I wouldn't have to.

  As he undresses himself, I shove the covers back and get in his bed. He has bright white sheets that are buttery soft and seem expensive. His mom must've picked them out. I can't imagine Ethan shopping for sheets.

  He grabs a condom from the nightstand and I watch as he puts it on. The rumors are true. Ethan Baxter is huge. I thought girls were just saying that when I overheard them bragging about being with him, but it's true. It's all true.

  He lies next to me on his back. "You're gonna have to take over. I'm kind of limited in what I can do."

  I don't mind. I have no problem being on top. In fact, sometimes I prefer it.

  I straddle him, being careful of his leg. He grips my ass as I slowly lower over him, taking time to let my body adjust to his size.

  "You okay?" he asks since I'm being so cautious.

  "Yeah." I lean down and kiss him. With him fully inside, I start slowly rocking my hips back and forth.

  He groans. "Fuck, that feels good." His eyes go to mine. "Sit up. I want to see you."

  Lifting up, I continue my movements as he eyes my body, his hand tracing over my breast and down my stomach.

  "You're beautiful," he says.

  I close my eyes, focusing on his touch and the feel of his hand as it continues to move over my skin.

  When I open my eyes, I see him watching me. His eyes lift slowly to mine and I feel something between us. Emotions I can't quite identify but ones we shouldn't be feeling.

  This is turning out to be more intimate than I expected. It was only supposed to be sex, just bodies coming together satisfying a need. But it's more than that. We're letting our emotions get involved and we shouldn't. We were just supposed to be friends. Friends offering each other support and meeting each other's physical needs.

  Turning my focus back to that, I close my eyes and speed up my movements. Ethan grabs my hips and I lean forward, holding onto his muscular shoulders. Soon my body is flooded with pleasure and I'm struggling to catch my breath. I keep going and feel Ethan's muscles tense and his fingers dig into my flesh as he comes.

  He's breathing heavy, his eyes closed. I hover over him, then see his eyes open to look at me. I feel it again. The feeling that this was more than sex. More than just satisfying a need. But neither of us says anything.

  He pulls me down over his chest and I lie there and feel him kiss my head. It feels real. Like he really cares about me. And I have to admit, I care about him too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ethan

  We fall asleep, and when I wake up, Becca is on her side, hugging my chest. I normally don't cuddle with a girl after sex. It's not that I'm against the idea. It's just that the girls I've been with in the past usually assume I don't want that so they get up and leave. And I don't like them enough to ask them to stay.

  I pop my head up to check the clock by my bed. It's only three. Becca doesn't have to leave for work until five. I have two more hours with her. Maybe we could do it again. Sex with her was freaking awesome and not just because it's been forever but because Becca knows what the hell's she's doing.

  The sheet's pulled back, leaving me a view of her naked body. Over the years I've seen a lot of naked girls, but Becca's body is better than any of them. It's perfect. My eyes wander over the curve of her hip down to her round little ass. I run my hand lightly over her shoulder, feeling her soft skin.

  My touch wakes her and she stretches her arm out. "What time is it?"

  "Just after three."

  She rolls onto her back. "I should start cleaning."

  "You don't need to clean. The place looks fine."

  "I'm sure not all of it does. And your mom paid for the service. I have to at least clean for an hour."

  "My mom has no idea if the place is clean. She's in L.A. and she never comes here."

  "Never?" Becca flips onto her side, facing me. "Your parents don't come to visit?"

  "They come once or twice a year, always during football season. Other than that, no. They were here a couple weeks ago but left after a day. They work a lot. It's hard for them to get away."

  That's not the real reason but it sounds better than the truth, which is that they don't give a shit about me.

  "That's not an excuse. You're their son. They should come see you more often."

  Reaching around her waist, I pull her closer. "Let's not talk about them." I kiss her. "And forget about cleaning. I want you right here. In my arms. In my bed."

  "About that." She places her hand on my chest, holding me back. "We probably shouldn't do that again."

  "Why not? I mean, you liked it, right?" I've never asked a girl that. I always just assumed she did. But with Becca, I want to make sure. I want to please her. Make her happy.

  "I definitely liked it, but we're just friends and I don't really do the friends with benefits thing."

  "We're more than friends." I slip some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

  "Not really. We just met."

  "But we've spent a lot of time together. I've told you things I haven't told anyone else. And you went to th
e doctor with me, which I haven't let anyone else do. So to me, we're more than friends."

  "Then what exactly are we?"

  "We're dating."

  "We've never even gone on a date."

  "That doesn't mean we're not dating. And technically, hanging out here could be considered a date."

  "Could we go out now that you're using the crutches?"

  My gaze drops down to her arm, my hand running up and down it. "Not yet. I'm not ready to."

  "Ethan, you have to get out of this house. And for more than just doctor's appointments."

  I let go of her and stare up at the ceiling. "Just let it go, okay? I'm not getting into this. I told you I'll go out when I'm ready, and I'm not fucking ready."

  She scoots away from me and covers herself with the sheet.

  "What are you doing?" I ask.

  "I don't like it when you get this way."

  "What way?"

  "When your mood changes like that. One minute you're fine and then suddenly you get really angry."

  "It's because of my leg, not you."

  "I still don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable."

  I sigh. "Becca, I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it anymore. And if I do, you can call me on it like you did just now." I reach for her. "Now will you come back over here?"

  "I need to do some cleaning."

  "Nobody's going to know if you cleaned or not, except for me, and I'm the one telling you not to. Now get over here."

  She lies beside me, her warm body pressing against mine.

  "God, you feel good," I say, wrapping my arms around her. "Can you just stay here every night? Maybe I'd finally get some sleep." I chuckle but it's not funny. I haven't slept a full night since before the crash.

  "You don't sleep?" she asks.

  "Not more than a few hours."

  "Because of the accident?" she asks softly.

  How did she know that? How did she know it still haunts me? I try to hide that shit. Act like everything's fine. Like I'm over it.

  "Maybe you should talk to someone. Like a counselor."

  "I don't need a fucking counselor," I say, my jaw tightening.

  "You're doing it again." She looks up at me. "You're getting angry."

  "Sorry. I just don't like counselors. I don't like talking to people about it."

  "What about me? Could you talk to me about it?"

  "There's really nothing to say. It happened and I can't go back and change it. I just have to live with it."

  She sits up, resting on her forearm. "Ethan, there's nothing you could've done. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. That guy had too much to drink."

  "Which is why I should've stopped him. Jason was one of my best friends." I stare up at the ceiling. "And I let him drive. I knew he'd been drinking and I let him drive."

  "You couldn't stop him. He was already behind the wheel and you were in the back seat."

  How does she know all that? She must've read the papers. They went into detail about the accident, including how Kasey was impaled by a tree branch. They didn't mention how she saved my life, probably because they couldn't prove it. But I was there, and I know for a fact Kasey saved me that night. Her body protected me. And yet I don't feel lucky. I feel sick, knowing she died because of me. Because she was on my lap instead safely belted in her seat.

  "I don't want to talk about it," I say.

  Becca lies back down. "If you ever do, I'm always here. Sometimes just saying stuff out loud can make you feel better."

  But I'd rather keep it inside where it belongs. It's my own hell to deal with, not anyone else's.

  "So..." I kiss her. "What should we do now?"

  "I don't know." She smiles. "We're in a bed. There's only so many things you can do in a bed and we've done them both."

  "Doesn't mean we can't do them again." I reach over and pull her on top of me.

  She glances back at the TV I have hanging on the wall. "Or we could watch TV."

  "Is that really what you want to do?" I ask as I kiss her.

  She doesn't answer, her hips circling over me, making it clear what she wants. I want to flip her over and thrust inside her but my damn leg won't let me, so I let her take the lead again. It's not that I'm complaining. Like I said, she knows what she's doing, and this way I get to admire that beautiful body of hers.

  Afterward, we lie there quietly, not feeling the need to speak or do anything more than just be next to each other. It's nice. Peaceful. I feel calm. Relaxed. I feel that way a lot when I'm around her. Like I can be me and not the Ethan everyone else expects me to be. The star athlete who always has to be on. Always pretending that football is all that I am, when in reality I'm more than that, at least I think I am. Truthfully, I don't know who I am without football, which is depressing. And stressful. And yet when Becca's around, that stress seems to go away.

  I smooth her hair as she lies on my chest. "Stay with me tonight."

  "I have to work late."

  "Just come here after work."

  "I can't. If I did, Mike would be all over my case about it. I told him we're just friends."

  "So tell him we're more than that. You're an adult. You don't have to report to your brother."

  "It's not that simple. He's very protective and he...well, he doesn't trust you."

  "He doesn't even know me."

  "No, but he knows who you are and he knows your reputation."

  "Which is what?"

  "That you sleep around."

  "I don't sleep around. Just because I haven't had a lot of long term relationships doesn't mean I have one-night stands every weekend."

  "But you've had them before."

  "Well, yeah, but that's true for every guy on the team. You drink too much and you end up going home with someone. That's not what this is, Becca. I'm not using you for sex. I like you. A lot."

  "And I like you, but Ethan, we both know this isn't going to last."

  "Why wouldn't it?"

  "Because you're graduating next year. And after that you'll be a professional athlete, traveling all the time. And I'll still be here, or maybe I'll be back in school. The point is, we're heading in different directions. And I'm okay with that. I never planned for this to continue beyond the summer."

  "I don't want to limit it like that." I run my hand under her chin, my thumb skimming over her mouth. "I really like you, Becca. You aren't like other girls. I feel like I can be myself around you."

  "We still have different goals. We're still heading in different directions."

  "That doesn't mean this can't go beyond the summer. I want to keep seeing you. Getting to know you."

  She's quiet, her head lowering back on my chest.

  I smooth her hair. "Let's just try this. Without worrying about what comes next. Will you do that?"

  She looks up at me. "Okay, but if we're dating, we should go out, even if it's just to get something to eat. We can't spend all our time in this house."

  I sigh and rub my hand over my face. "I'm not ready."

  "Everyone knows you hurt your leg. I don't see what the big deal is."

  "People are watching me. Wondering how fast I'm healing. When I'll be able to play again. It's too much pressure. It's just easier to stay here."

  "You can't hide in here forever. You'll be back in school in August."

  "Classes don't start till September. By then I'll be off the crutches."

  "But don't you have to go to football practice in a few weeks? Even if you can't play, don't you still have to be there?"

  "I don't know."

  Actually, I do know. She's right. I'm supposed to be there, but I don't want to be. I don't want to sit on the sidelines watching my team practice without me.

  "Are you hungry?" I ask, changing the subject. "We could go find something to eat. My girlfriend stocked the fridge." I smile at her, loving the sound of calling her my girlfriend.

  She smiles back. "So now I'm your girlfriend?"

  "Yeah, so tell your
brother. Then maybe he won't make such a big deal about you staying over."

  "I didn't agree to stay over."

  "Then I'll have to keep working on that." I kiss her. "So what do you think? Are you hungry?"

  "I could use a snack. And then I really should clean something. I feel guilty for not doing anything." She turns and gets out of bed.

  "You work too hard."

  She just laughs, but it's true. She works harder than anyone I know and she doesn't complain about it. It's admirable, and another reason I like her.

  We find some leftover pizza in the fridge and each have a slice. As she's rinsing off the plates in the sink, I come up behind her and kiss the side of her neck. "Spend the weekend with me."

  She shakes her head, smiling. "I can't. I have stuff to do."

  "Like what?"

  "Laundry. Get groceries. Clean the apartment."

  "Those things don't take long. Come on. Stay with me, at least for a day. And maybe Friday night?"

  She spins around. "I could probably make Friday night work. And I'll spend Saturday with you. But Sunday I have to go home and do stuff."

  If that's all she'll give me, I'll take it. I just want to spend time with her. I'm finally feeling like I have some life in me again instead of dragging through the day. And it's all because of Becca.

  ***

  Friday night, I wait for Becca to get off work. It's almost midnight, which is usually when she leaves. I wish I could drive. I'd go pick her up. I feel like she's not safe walking to her car this late at night. She said the singing cook guy walks her out, but if I'm remembering him correctly, he's so out of shape most anyone could take him down.

  My phone rings. It's Derek, one of the guys on the team.

  "Derek, what's up?" I answer. "How's your summer?"

  "Freaking awesome. Spent last week in Miami. It was hotter than hell but I drank and got laid so all in all it was a good trip." He laughs. "How about you? Been doing anything?"

  "Not really."

  "Coach been by?" he asks in a tone that implies he already knows the answer and is testing me to see if I'll lie.

  "Yeah, he's been by. I just haven't been in the mood to talk to him."