To Be Your Only

by Rae Kennedy

  “Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Nothing really. We went on a date—a double date, actually, and there just wasn’t any chemistry between us and I’ve just sort of moved on.”

  “Just like that? After, like, ten years of crushing on Wes and you just don’t like him anymore?”

  “Nope. I’m over it.” I try to sound nonchalant about it so she won’t ask any more questions as I flip my turn signal to pull onto the private drive leading to her house.

  “You were so sure about him. I don’t get how you could change your feelings so quickly. Are you sure something didn’t happen that you’re not telling me?”

  I pull up to the house and park behind Eric’s truck. When I turn to look at her, she’s giving me raised eyebrows and an expression that clear as day says I am your best friend and you better tell me everything because I’m going to find out anyway.

  Sometimes being, frankly, fantastic at reading facial expressions is a curse. But she’s right. I wouldn’t be able to keep it from her.

  I drop my shoulders. “I guess I figured out I wasn’t really into Wes anymore right around the same time I realized I have a thing for Eric.”

  A fry falls out of Gracie’s mouth.

  “My brother? You have a thing for Eric?”

  I nod and take the bag from her lap to eat some more fries.

  “Does he know?”

  “Not really. I don’t think so. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me like that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Something did kind of happen between us and he made it clear with how he ended it that he thought it was a mistake and he doesn’t want more.”

  “Oh. Shit, sorry.”

  We walk back up to Gracie’s room with our shakes and the bag of fries, even though it’s practically empty. I plop down on her fluffy mattress, fully expecting to dive back into our Netflix session and thankful that the conversation about Eric is over, when Gracie whips her head around.

  “Wait, you and Eric didn’t...” She widens her eyes and I know exactly what she’s asking.

  “No. We just made out.”

  “Okay.” She sounds relieved then takes another drink of her shake.

  “And he went down on me.”

  Gracie chokes on her shake.

  “What? He’s really good at it.”

  “That’s information I could have gone my whole life without knowing.” She clears her throat, still recovering from the near-fatal sip of shake. “So you like him but he doesn’t like you back?”

  “Yup. Not in that way, at least. He keeps talking about being friends.”

  She shakes her head as she eats the last of the fries. “All this time we’ve called him a smartass when he’s actually a dumbass.”

  “Cheers to that.”

  We clink our shake cups together—metaphorically, of course, since our cups aren’t glass and don’t actually make a clanking sound—and then we drink our ice creamy goodness as I open the laptop to continue streaming.

  “But are you sure he doesn’t like you?” Gracie says in a quiet voice after a while.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Just pretty sure? Because he picks on you a lot—that could be his way of flirting.”

  “He teases me like he would a little sister.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He teases you way more than he teases me, and with a lot more innuendo.”

  I shrug her off. I don’t want to describe to her in detail how he’d practically jumped off me when I touched his dick and told me to leave while I was still half naked and spread out on his couch. He wouldn’t have done that if he had romantic feelings for me. No, he’d panicked because he very much does not have those kinds of feelings for me.

  We watch a few hours of The Great British Baking Show and Gracie falls asleep during one of Mary Berry’s rants about soggy bottoms.

  The moon is hidden behind clouds, making the room pitch black when I turn everything off and lie down next to her lightly snoring figure. The only other sound is that of crickets in the distance.

  I can’t sleep.

  But are you sure he doesn’t like you?

  I turn over and hold my phone close to my face. It’s well after midnight and I know he has to get up early tomorrow. I'm sure he’s asleep.

  I start typing before I can overthink it and talk myself out of it.

  Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Can I come over?

  CHAPTER 20

  I had laid there in the dark, watching the screen, my heart racing for what seemed like forever and I was just about to give up and put my phone away when the little dots popped up. I stopped breathing.

  Dr. Gallagher: Sure

  So now I’m sneaking in the darkness through Gracie’s yard toward his house. Cool grass tickles at my ankles, the ground is soft underfoot, the smell of earth lingers in the air as starlight twinkles above me. I make it to the pathway to his door, my heart still beating as profusely as when those three little dots had danced across my screen.

  He opens the door before I have the chance to knock. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and loose-fitting gray sweat pants. His hair is slightly disheveled and he runs his hand through it.

  “Hi,” I say quietly.

  He moves aside so I can step in.

  “I’m sorry. It’s late.”

  He rubs his hand over his face. “It is.”

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Sure was.”

  “Shit. You know what, never mind. We can do this another time.” I start to turn away when he grabs my wrist and turns me to face him.

  “And what is this we’re doing?”

  “Um. Talking. About what happened. About us.”

  “Us?”

  My chest is tight. “Seriously, we can do this some other time. How about tomorrow?”

  “No. We’ll do this now. I wanted to do it a week ago.” He crosses his arms, making his biceps and chest look extra muscular and straining against the confines of his shirt. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me a week ago?”

  “I just needed some time. I wasn’t eager to relive the embarrassment.”

  He looks down, letting out a sigh. “You feel weird around me now. You’re embarrassed because, what, I saw your pussy? Licked you? Made you come? Or is it me you’re embarrassed about? The fact that it was with me and not someone hotter, like Wes?”

  I scrunch my face up at him. Huh?

  “Ky, I don’t know how to show you any more how sorry I am and how much I regret what happened—”

  “Stop apologizing for the wrong fucking thing!”

  He knits his eyebrows and studies my face like he has no clue what I’m talking about.

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I enjoyed what we did very much, and you repeatedly apologizing for it and calling it a mistake is hurting my feelings? And doesn’t it make sense that I’d be upset when you asked me to leave while I was still wet and bare-ass naked on your couch?”

  His jaw goes slack and he fists his hand in his hair. “I... yeah. You’re right. That was an asshole thing to do. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight at that moment. I was scared.”

  “You were scared? You didn’t seem scared literal seconds before you told me to go home.”

  He takes a step closer, reaching his hand toward me before he balls it in a fist and holds it to his side. I keep my arms crossed.

  “I was scared that what we did was going to mean way more to me than it did to you. I was afraid that if we went any further you were going to regret it in the morning. Shit, I thought you were already going to regret what we had done so far. I was scared that I had just destroyed everything and you weren’t going to want to hang out with me anymore.” His face is drawn, his puppy dog brown eyes shiny. “And here I am, completely ruined and you won’t talk to me.”

  “I’m talking to you right now. You thought it wouldn’t mean anything to me? That I regretted it? Wait—ruined? This is a lot to take in r
ight now. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? I need you to come straight out and tell me, explain what’s going on here like I’m five years old so there’s no confusion.”

  He takes a half step closer and lowers his voice. “Kyla, I...I adore you. I’ve been a wreck all week. I can’t think about anything else, anyone but you.”

  I swallow. “You...like me?”

  “I like you a lot.”

  “I like you too.”

  His eyes widen and then his mouth turns up into a hint of a smirk. “And you liked what we did?”

  I nod.

  “And you don’t regret it?”

  I shake my head and whisper, “How did I ruin you?”

  His smirk is now a full-on devious grin. “You ruined me, because after that night, my kink is no longer eating pussy. It’s eating your pussy. During the day I’m obsessed with checking my phone to see if you’ve texted or called. I look out the window in hopes you’ll show up. And at night when I’m trying to go to sleep—all I can think about is kissing you.”

  He glances at my lips. His chest is rising visibly faster, in the same rhythm my breathing has increased. He leans in and the air around us warms.

  “I think about your mouth, your body, your scent. Your soft skin. The way you taste.” His lips are at my ear, his breath tickling against my neck. “I think about the way you looked under me. The little noises you made when you were getting close. And the way you felt when you came against my tongue and around my fingers.”

  His words have me heated all over. “I wish you hadn’t pushed me away.”

  He runs his fingertips down my arm from elbow to wrist before grazing my palm and interlacing his fingers with mine. “Fuck. I'm sorry. You have to know, all you need to do is say the word and I’d get down on my knees for you. Whatever I have to do to earn your forgiveness.”

  “You’d get down on your knees?” My voice is a husky whisper.

  He nods slowly, not breaking eye contact.

  “Do it,” I breathe.

  Without hesitation, he drops to his knees in front of me, curling his hands lightly around the thickest part of my calves.

  He looks up at me. “Kyla, I’m so sorry. Please, put me out of my misery.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  His lips twitch. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I’m sorry for not realizing I hurt your feelings.” He slides his palms slowly up to my knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that you wanted it as much as you needed it.” He moves closer, his breath warm at my stomach, at the same time he rubs his hands up my thighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you’d enjoyed it as much as I had.”

  I look down at him, moving my hand to comb through his thick hair. “I enjoyed it way more.”

  “I don’t think so.” And then he presses his lips to the bare sliver of skin just below my navel.

  I tighten my fingers in his hair.

  “Is this what I’m down here for?” He kisses me again, his hands dangerously close to disappearing under the hem of my shorts.

  “Yes.”

  He smiles and licks his lips. He looks up at me as he drags his mouth over the button of my jean shorts and then kisses down the outside of my zipper. All the way down. My clit pulses with anticipation.

  “Holy shit, Eric.” I don’t even recognize the husky tone of my own voice.

  He nuzzles his face between my legs, his hot breath at my center as he slides his hands up under my shorts, massaging and cupping my butt. “You like this, Rosenbaum?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You like me on my knees for you?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  He comes up and yanks on my waistband with his teeth, undoing the snap. “I like it too.” Then he takes my zipper between his teeth and pulls it down, never breaking eye contact, his brown eyes black with hunger.

  My knees are wobbly as he gives a little tug to the hem of my shorts and they fall to the floor.

  “I can’t wait to taste you again. Would you like that?”

  “Uh-huh.” My breaths are coming rapid and shallow. I can’t think of anything better right now.

  He glances down at my thong. It’s navy with black lace and he traces his nose all along the lacy edges. “I like these. Should we leave them on or off?”

  “Off.” I hook my thumbs into the thin waistbands and start to push them down when his warm hands come over mine, stopping them.

  “So impatient, Rosenbaum. So greedy.”

  I whimper.

  “Have you not come since last time?”

  “No.”

  “Hm.” He kisses and then licks the inside of my thigh. “No wonder you’re so needy.”

  Fuck, I am. I need him so bad right now. He keeps kissing and licking up my thighs until he finally presses his lips to the silky fabric between him and my sex. My pussy is throbbing and I’m swollen and wet.

  “Should I take care of you every day?” His lips are still at the juncture of my thighs as he looks up at me with blown-out pupils.

  “Please. Please, Eric, I want you.”

  The noise he makes is almost like a growl as he slides my panties down and buries his face between my legs. There are no teasing kisses or gentle explorations with his tongue. He’s eating me out like he’s starved. His mouth is hot and wet as he’s licking and sucking and swallowing down all my juices. He closes his lips around my clit one second, making it hard and achy, then he’s at my entrance, fucking it with his thick tongue the next.

  I have one hand grasped in his hair and the other braced on his shoulder, afraid my legs are going to give out at any second but his hands are gripped tight on my ass and he holds me up even as I feel weak, overtaken with pleasure. Weak, but still powerful. The outline of his hard cock is unmistakable in his sweats.

  “I want to sit down,” I pant, every stroke of his tongue making my legs feel more and more like noodles.

  “Bed or couch?” he asks, out of breath.

  “Bed.”

  He hooks one large arm under my behind and then lifts me off the ground. His other hand goes to the back of my neck and he pulls me in for a kiss as we move to the bedroom. And I’m lost in him, in this moment. He adores me. Me. He likes spending time with me—even if I lack a filter. He’s turned on by me and my body—I don’t think he’d want me to lose those twenty pounds.

  He sits me down gently on the edge of his bed and stands between my legs. He keeps kissing me, his lips are soft but urgent. I hold his head to mine, desperate for more pressure. The way he’s kissing me—I never want him to stop. His mouth claims me. His hands dig into my hips, strong and possessive. I nip at his full lower lip then lick his tongue before sucking on it and pulling it into my mouth, trying not to think about his erection and how hot and smooth it would feel between my lips.

  I pull at him, urging him deeper. I don’t realize I’m tugging at his shirt until he breaks the kiss, his lips red and swollen, and pulls it off quickly. He throws it to the floor then reaches for the hem of my shirt. I raise my arms and he lifts it slowly over my head. My heavy breasts are heaving so much with the force of my breaths that they threaten to spill out of my bra.

  He gazes down at them as he slides his hands up my sides. Caressing the sensitive skin at my ribs, he leans in to kiss the swells of my breasts. He looks up as he moves to cup them, his touch making my nipples harden and strain against the fabric. His gaze fixes on mine as he starts pressing open-mouthed kisses against my soft skin, as if studying my face for any sign I want him to stop.

  I don’t want him to stop.

  He hooks a finger into the cup of my bra, pulling gently and just enough so the top of one pink areola is bared to him. His gaze flickers down for a split second to see it, then back up as he licks me there on that sensitive spot.

  “Can I?” His fingers are at the clasp behind my back.

  I give him the tiniest of nods, and he unhooks it. It falls away, and then I am completely naked before him.

  He smooths his h
ands over my body reverently, stopping his thumb to rub circles over my taut nipples. “You’re so beautiful.”

  He moves over me and I lie back as he crawls onto the bed and lavishes my breasts with his mouth. His wicked, dirty mouth that he knows how to use so well. Each pink nipple pops out from between his lips a bright shade of crimson. And then he’s back over me, kissing me wildly. His hard chest is hot against my breasts as he presses me to the mattress, and I dig my fingernails into his back as we moan and writhe against one another.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he says against my lips.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Probably longer than I should have. I’ve always liked you, but it was a couple summers ago. You and Gracie were sunbathing out by the pond and I watched you. I’ve thought about you every day since.” He pulls back to look into my eyes. His are wide, vulnerable, as if he’s waiting for me to be scared off from his confession.

  “Are we really doing this? You and me?” he asks.

  “You and me.” I kiss him hard and wrap my legs around his hips, forcing his pelvis to rub against mine.

  “Fuck, you’re so hot. Will you promise me one thing?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Promise you won’t ever stop talking to me again. Even if you’re really mad. I’d rather you scream at me than be silent. It was the worst kind of torture.”

  “Okay.” I grind against his crotch, the ridge of his cock dragging along my wet pussy, and I moan ragged in his ear.

  “Speaking of screaming, you still need to come. How could I forget.” In one smooth motion he slides down to the floor, on his knees once again, and pulls me toward him so that my ass is hanging off the mattress and my knees are thrown over his shoulders.

  With a wicked grin he dives down. Fuck, he really does love eating pussy.

  No, he loves eating my pussy.

  You and me.

  I close my eyes and my body hums with arousal. The slight scruff of his jaw along my inner thigh heightens every movement. He doesn’t need direction, but every time I gasp when he hits a particular spot, he gives it extra attention. He already knows the underside of my clit is the most sensitive, and he gently sucks on it, coaxing it out from the hood so he can flick his tongue hard and fast just there.