“I thought seeing you with the others would make me mad,” he confessed. “Jealous, but watching you all week with Jackson? Knowing you were riding to school with Oliver—him seeing you first thing in the morning? Sneaking around for a brief moment with you? Goddamn it only made me want you more.”
We weren't facing each other, and in some ways, it made conversation easier. In other ways, I couldn't see his face, which made it hard to judge what he was saying. I had to trust his words. I stared at the soft, grayish carpet on the floor. Tidy and neat. I could see the lines from the vacuum cleaner around the edges of the room.
“Sounds to me like you’re a masochist. You could have had me a lot sooner, you know.”
"You're a pretty scary chick, Reeves. I never would’ve kissed you if Jackson hadn't made a move." His fingers trailed softly down my arms. "And like I said in the library, you were getting a little hard to resist."
"I was trying to make you crazy," I admitted.
"Mission accomplished."
I twisted around and climbed in his lap. Bad move. Now his super hard, very erect cock was pressed right against the thin material of my underpants. Right there. Holyfreakingboner. I thought kissing felt good. This was some kind of crazy mixture of pleasure/torture. "Oh,” I said, shifting against him. “Wow.”
His jaw tensed.
“Is this
okay?” he asked quietly.
"More than okay.”
He slid a finger under the strap of my tank. "I'm not gonna lie. I want you."
I swallowed and said, "I won't lie and say I'm not worried it's all you guys want from me."
The worried line crossed his forehead. "You know that's not true."
I wanted to know it. So badly. I tried to lighten the mood. "Are you sure? This isn't just a way for you to fulfill some kind of perverted thirteen-year-old's fantasy?" I pushed him back playfully. I was joking, but the fear they wanted me only for sex lingered in the back of my anxiety-filled mind. My stalker pushed that narrative every day with a slew of manipulated photos.
His eyes narrowed. “You know that’s not how it is.”
I nodded. “It’s my brain. It just won’t stop sometimes.”
“Your brain is a bully.” He kissed my forehead, my nose and chin. “We agreed not to listen to bullies, didn’t we?”
“Yes”
“But if you’re worried, we take this slow, okay?”
I nodded, feeling a tinge of relief. Not because I didn’t trust him. I think…this stuff with Anderson, it was new. It took him so long to come around. I needed to be sure.
He ran his fingers down my neck. “Anyway, I’m holding out for the day you come back in that T-shirt. You still have it?”
“Yeah.” My answer came out breathy. Taking it slow may be harder than I thought.
“That’ll be our signal. You wear that and I’ll know you’re ready. Until then, we just get to know one another.”
“Deal,” I agreed, claiming his mouth with my own.
*
Twenty minutes later, I was still straddling him on the floor. My skirt was bunched to the top of my thighs and his fingers were pushed underneath. They never wandered too far but I wanted them to. So much. We were tongue-deep, kissing and sucking—licking mouths, necks, and any other available flesh. We were alone for the first time and Anderson's kisses were different, less frantic than when people could discover us at any moment. I liked both kinds. I liked the eager, hungry Anderson who pulled me into quiet alcoves for fast and furious make-out sessions, and this one as well. The one that took his time and made my blood simmer to a boil.
"Dude, have you seen..." I heard a voice declare from the doorway. "Holy...oops." This was followed by a giggle and Anderson's hands flew out from under my skirt and quickly pulled it down to cover my ass. I peeked over my shoulder and saw Oliver, keys dangling from a finger. His hair was damp from just getting out of the shower and I could smell the clean soapy smell from my spot on the floor.
My face burned, being caught so intimately. “Hey Oliver.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s uh, after five and I told you I’d pick you up but if you’re not ready…”