by Kata Čuić
Jim scans the list and frowns as he points to a particular name. “Cross him off. I overheard him at camp joking to the other trombones about wanting to slip something into a rookie color guard’s drink at the bandie dance because he was convinced that was the only way she’d give him the time of day. We’re not letting garbage like that into our frat anymore.”
“He didn’t actually do it, did he?” Tim frowns, too.
“No. I kept a close eye on him at the dance. Even if he had tried, he wouldn’t have gotten away with it. I don’t care if it was only a joke. He’s not getting a bid. Put his name on the blacklist, so next year’s officers will know.”
I wondered why Jim was lurking in dark corners during the dance at band camp instead of campaigning for votes. I just figured he was busy plotting how to take me out of the running. “Did ITK used to have a lot of garbage?”
“Yeah.” Tim twists his lips to the side in a grimace. “Our freshman year was pretty bad. Dr. Kimball almost banned the frat because a couple pledges had ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning after initiation night.” He slaps Jim on the shoulder. “I’m pretty sure the only reason he didn’t is because this guy promised to take out the trash. And then actually did it.”
I have no idea who this tall, handsome man is standing in front of me. Not really. “How did you manage that when you were only a sophomore? The seniors just went along with it, no arguments?”
Jim ruffles his hair. “I, uh, actually did a lot of Fossoway name-dropping and made some promises Alex helped me keep.”
“Alex went along with that?” I thought I couldn’t be more shocked.
Jim shrugs. “He’s one of the founding members of Sing Out. He doesn’t still do those assemblies because it makes him look good. He actually cares about helping to end rape culture and all the stuff that contributes to it … like hazing.”
I nod, dazed. “I know all about why and how it was founded.”
Jim raises an eyebrow. “Because you stalked my brother to get to me?”
“No, totally separate. When I received my admissions packet to State, flyers for Sing Out were included. I thought it was a great idea, so I looked into it more.”
Tim shakes his head. “For all the fighting, you two are actually a lot alike. It’s just as weird you never got together before now as it is that you didn’t already kill each other.”
Jim chuckles as Tim bounds up the stairs. “So, Tim is our vice president of membership. That’s why he’s keeping tabs on potential pledges for the year.”
He points to where Jake is sitting on the couch, typing into his laptop. “Jake is secretary. He’s probably writing down whatever feedback brothers gave him from the party tonight, like what time the keg tapped and how many brothers, bandies, and other guests attended. He’ll read all the info at our next meeting, so we can have a good idea of how to change things as needed.”
He gestures toward Shannon, who’s behind the bar with Nate. She seems to be counting bottles. “Shannon is vice president of operations. That means she keeps track of the alcohol consumed and the amount of money we spend to keep a fully stocked bar versus what we make on it. She’s responsible for documenting if any serious damage was done to the house during a party, so we can fix it before the landlord notices and evicts us. She’s also in charge of collecting rent every month.”
I’m so impressed. It really is a well-oiled machine. “And you’re the president. What are your duties besides running the show?”
“Uh …” He sighs, obviously wearing out for the night. “I’m responsible for making sure everyone is doing their jobs and picking up the slack if they can’t for any reason. I act as the ITK liaison with the other band organizations. I also report to Dr. Kimball to keep him in the loop, so he knows about any problems in band he might not be aware of otherwise. I make sure none of the members or pledges are hazed criminally or in a way that makes them uncomfortable.”
I can’t believe I ever thought ITK was nothing more than a party organization, and that Jimbo was the elected ringleader of it all. “You should have been drum major. Not me.”
His eyes are tired, but he still offers me a smile and folds me into his arms. “They voted for you, Sophie. Not me.”
I shake my head against his hard chest. “I don’t understand why. You do so much for the band. More than I ever knew.”
“That’s just because you were too busy hating me to see it. And you do plenty for the band, too. You’re one of the most dedicated geeks I’ve ever known.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better. I peel away from him, determined not to be so blind going forward. “Well, direct me then, Mr. President. I’m the only pledge you’ve got for now, so should I start scrubbing toilets or collecting trash from all over the house?”
He kisses my forehead, turns me toward the staircase, then swats my ass. “Go to bed, head drum major. No scrubbing toilets for you. We got this.”
Only I don’t want to exclude myself from this kind of camaraderie anymore. And I don’t want him to exclude me either. Especially not because of a title I’m not even sure I deserve. I pitch in with the other brothers upstairs for the cleanup effort. We collect at least five bags of trash and disinfect the kitchen surfaces and, yes … the main floor and first-floor bathrooms.
An hour of whistling while we work passes, and the officers are still downstairs. It’s a little after three a.m. Everyone collectively agrees to sweep and wash and vacuum the floors tomorrow morning.
My ass drags up the stairs to the third floor, but there’s no way in hell I can go to sleep like this. Untold germs are probably multiplying on my skin from all the party fouls I just came in contact with. Since all the ITK officers are still in the basement, I don’t have to wait in line for a shower.
The trickle from the ancient shower head isn’t nearly enough to relax my muscles, but the water that takes forever to heat to tepid wakes me up. All my toiletries are in the hotel room, but there’s a bar of soap on the dish, so I pick it up and sniff. Definitely men’s soap and definitely Jim’s. His skin smells just like this little blue bar. Lathering my body with his soap feels like the closest I’ve been to him physically in years.
Even though he was by my side for hours, draped in nothing but a sheet with all his muscly muscles on display, that wasn’t my focus. And sure, the drunker he got on cheap beer, the more his gaze dipped to my breasts, but he didn’t linger there. His eyes were on mine when he confessed all those things to me.
It really isn’t about the sex this time.
Another doubt in my mind falls away.
“It’s not about the sex!” I yell gleefully to the pink tiled walls.
“I’m sorry for your loss!” Shannon shouts back.
Damn. I forgot her bedroom is sandwiched between the bathroom and Jim’s room. And the walls are apparently paper thin if Jim’s story about hearing Shannon’s pterodactyl screeches are to be believed. I can see it actually. Shannon’s loud and bubbly, and like Jim, she doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of her. Except maybe Jake. I think she’s beginning to care very much what he thinks of her.
The pipes groan when I turn off the water. I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me since I was running late, and I am not putting that beer-stained bedsheet back on, so I wrap a towel around myself and peek into the hallway.
The coast is clear, so I hightail it into Jim’s room for a T-shirt. He’s sprawled out in the middle of the mattress like a starfish when I enter, his toga in a heap on the floor.
I’ve seen Jim at camps and practices without his shirt a million times, but the last time I saw him in only boxer briefs was nothing like this. The lights were out that night, and we were in a hurry.
He smiles a dopey smile and doesn’t say a word as he lets me drink my fill.
Smooth skin dusted with a fine trail of hair that leads below the waistband of his boxers almost shimmers under the lamplight. That might just be my mind playing tricks on me because this feel
s like a dream.
He has a six-pack. I know because I count every ridge like a complete dork. He did not have a six-pack the last time. His chest is more defined, too. Drool-worthy pecs sprinkled with just enough dark hair to be manly, but not so much that he looks like a Wookiee. Nipples that harden beneath my gaze.
I don’t know what it is about men’s nipples, but they are just so sexy. So lickable. I want some of that.
His arms and legs are relaxed, but it’s impossible not to notice the definition of each group of muscles he wakes up early to achieve.
He’s so beautiful.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He chuckles. “Hurtful.”
“What? How is that hurtful? It was a compliment.”
“Women are beautiful. Men are handsome, rugged, sexy.”
“Women can be sexy, too. And you’d better not let Shannon hear you say such sexist things.”
“Lose the towel, beautiful. My turn.”
He’s not completely naked like I am beneath this towel, but I honestly want to show him. I want him to see how much I’ve grown up, too.
The worn, frayed fabric flutters to the ground, landing in a crumpled pile around my feet. Jim’s eyes move so slowly; it’s almost more intimate than me rubbing my wet, naked body with his bar of soap.
What does he see when he looks at me? Does he notice anything different, or did he not pay enough attention the last time to even be able to tell?
He shakes his head, and a hint of a frown pulls down the corners of his mouth.
Anxiety locks up my muscles. Somehow, I don’t measure up.
“You got more beautiful without me.”
“I just told you, you’re beautiful. You didn’t like that.”
“No, I mean, you did all this”—he lazily waves his arm toward me—“without me.”
A sigh heaves my chest, and his gaze immediately settles on my breasts.
“Now what?”
He gestures with his finger, the same way he did on the dance floor. “Now, come here. Sleep.”
I raise an eyebrow at the noticeable bulge in his boxers. The man has willpower like I’ve never known. “I believe you. That it’s not about sex this time.”
He nods slightly. “Good. It’s not.”
“You don’t want to? At all?”
He’s still a man. I’m still a woman. A very aroused man and woman. And I’m so used to fighting for what he tells me I can’t have, or I can’t do.
“It’s four in the morning, Sophie. I can wait longer.”
He’s already waited for years, and I don’t want to wait a second longer.
“You’re losing this naked competition,” I murmur as I approach the bed on steady feet.
“Are you so anxious about test-driving our sexual compatibility? I think we’ve already gotten positive results in that department,” he mumbles the words but lifts his hips and slides his briefs down his legs before tossing them onto the floor.
“Have we?” Until this moment, I didn’t realize part of me had believed for the past three years that I wasn’t good enough. I never really gave much thought about why he’d ignored me when we saw each other again at our rookie camp. I never consciously believed the women he’d slept with after me were somehow … better.
But it all crashes down around me now as a quaking need to prove myself rises above those secret fears.
I crawl up his legs from the foot of the bed. I’ve never thought of a man’s legs as particularly worthy of attention, but I kiss my way from his ankles to his knees, skimming my nose along the inside of his thighs. Everything about him has always been magnetic to me, but it’s so much more now. I’m tempted to lick him from head to toe just because I can.
“Sophie. I don’t need this. I was only joking before.”
“I know.” And I do. “But I want to.”
His big hand caresses my cheek when I settle myself between his thighs. “What about your gag reflex?”
“I thought you wanted me to choke on your hot dog?”
“I am not going to lie and tell you that’s not a fantasy of mine, but I’m also not going to tell you I enjoy puke on my junk.”
My forehead meets said junk as I laugh. That’s just such a perfectly Jim thing to say.
“I don’t know if you were too busy confessing things to notice, but I chugged those last three beers all by myself like the big girl I am.” I grin up at him. “Practice makes perfect.”
His eyebrows knit together in confusion before the fog lifts into realization. “Oh, hell. You did.”
He’s probably still drunk, and I shouldn’t take advantage, but he did tell me he was going to be all mine tonight. That allows me a little leeway, doesn’t it? Besides, I still owe him for the incredible orgasm he gave me just by dancing.
“Please, James?”
He strokes my cheek, my hair. “I never could deny you anything. That’s why I turned into such a bastard these last few years.”
I laugh. If he wasn’t so hard, I would think he really didn’t want it and just curl up at his side to sleep. But his cock is absolutely beautiful—yes, beautiful—and I didn’t get to appreciate it enough before.
Perfectly thick and proud and long with prominent veins I trace with my tongue. He could be a star in the pornos ITK watches together monthly. I might gag while brushing my teeth, but that’s a necessity, and putting him in my mouth is absolutely a want.
I’m drooling for a taste of this Popsicle, so I give in to every urge swelling inside my chest. I take him in my mouth as deep as I can then pull up to the very tip. And I’m still not satisfied. I want to take him to the back of my throat until I reach the base of his beautiful dick. That is definitely going to take some practice because he is longer than any lollipop I’ve ever sucked.
He moans and clutches my head with his fingers tangled in my hair.
I glance up because I want to see the reactions I provoke in him in a way I didn’t care about before.
His head is thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and his mouth is open in what looks like a soundless scream. Not of pain. Of pleasure.
Pride warms my chilly, naked body because I’m doing that to him. I’m not stupid. When we were only eighteen, all he wanted was something warm and wet to sink it into. But he’s been with more women since me, and the color guard captain admitted to blowing him any chance she got.
I push those thoughts of other people aside and feast on him. I want to lick him dry.
I want to.
I want to worship him without competition. I want to appreciate the man he’s become. I want to pay homage to all he does for others without any expectation of selfish returns. I want to reward his dedication for three years of playing the long game. I want him to feel as worthy of adoration and respect as his brother. I want to make him feel special. To me.
An abrupt snore prompts me to open my eyes and abandon my attempt at a human Hoover.
The rat bastard doesn’t have his mouth open in pleasure. He’s sound asleep. With his hard dick still in my mouth.
So much for not competing.
I suddenly know exactly how the color guard captain must have felt.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Something tickles my shoulder. I shrug it off.
A low chuckle with perfect tone and timbre flirts with the haze of sleep I’m not ready to let go of.
Sensations come into focus. Firm lips glide across the bare skin of my shoulder blade while a warm, big hand wraps around my upper arm. He nuzzles his face against my neck, a scrape of morning scruff irritating to the sensitive skin there. His naked body plastered to mine radiates heat. And his morning wood pokes my left butt cheek.
“Fuck off, Jim. You didn’t want any last night; you’re not getting it now. Go … work out or something.”
Another chuckle, followed by warm breath and a soft, damp, open-mouthed kiss to my neck, wakes me up the rest of the way. “I wanted it. I’ve wanted you for years.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. “Really? You have a strange way of showing it.”
He thrusts his stupidly hard dick against my ass a few times like he’s showing me now exactly how much he wants it. “What did I do that was so heinous this time?”
I return my head to its spot on the pillow, facing away from him. “Passed out with your dick in my mouth.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did.”
“Never happened. No way.”
“Fine. You want to make this into a reality competition? I must have been the one who passed out. I dreamed the whole thing. There. You win.”
He uses his stupid muscles to roll me onto my back, so he can try to get me to back down with his sexy, first-thing-in-the-morning look—unshaven jaw, shirtless, messy hair. “Your knee-jerk reaction is to get mad at me, but you’re failing to see a very important fact.”
“I don’t have to worry about my gag reflex because you don’t actually like when a woman licks your hot dog?”
He grins. Damn him. He’s so hot when he wakes up. “I trust you enough to pass out with my dick in your mouth.”
“You shouldn’t. Next time, I might bite it off.”
His stupid grin just grows wider. “We’ve trained ourselves to fight. You punch then expect me to jab back, but I’m only concentrating on the words next time.”
I roll my eyes and immediately decide that’s a horrible idea, so I throw my arm over my face. “Jim, I’m too tired to fight. Just win this round already, so you can go work out, and I can go back to sleep.”
My mouth isn’t being protected from the horrid sunlight by my arm, so he brushes his lips against mine in a kiss that ends with a smile. “Sundays are rest days. And I’d much rather stay in bed with you all afternoon.”
Afternoon? I bolt upright and glance around for wherever the hell I left my phone last night before donning his bedsheet. “What time is it?”
“Afternoon,” he repeats like I’m dumb. “Do you have someplace you’d rather be than in bed with me?”
