“I’m sure they’ll come to you.”
Breathless, I lean into his touch and am rewarded when he takes it a step further, his erection pressing into me. “We should ease you into this.”
Something about being with this man makes me bolder. It’s been that way since the day we met.
“Then I’ll have your tongue first.”
Lance
I stroke the skin of her hip, my arms wrapped around her as we listen to Theo’s latest concert. It’s been an hour-long mix of Santana and Jimi Hendrix. “He should join a band or something.”
“I told you, he’s in the marching band.”
“You know what I mean.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with curiosity as her cheeks heat. “You, uh, did something different this time.”
“I have a lot of different things I’d like to do to you.”
She turns her tight little body to lay on her stomach, all her goods hidden aside from the spectacular view of her ass which I unveil by moving the sheet. I love our late-night chats. I’ve been sneaking her into my room every night this week. Though stuck in the small space, we’ve managed to keep ourselves entertained. Sometimes we study until passed hungry looks get the best of us. Other nights we order food in, sharing Chinese takeout across a stack of pillows. It’s an escape for both of us, to say the least. In this room, we’re free to just…be.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened with your dad?”
She winces. “Is he still going hardcore on you all?”
“Every damn practice. It’s like he’s been waiting for the chance to make us pay. It’s hell on earth.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I chuck her chin. “Tell me.”
“He yelled, a lot. More than he ever has. It was pretty scary. And then he apologized for it, which only showed me how hurt he was. I told him it wasn’t meant for him to see, but it didn’t matter. Mom hasn’t made it any easier on me. They both went silent for a few days after the initial blowup, which was the worst. Mom is coming around a little day by day but Dad, well he’s submersed himself into the season. I’ve spent the last few days trying to talk to him, assure him it’s not a thing which is like shooting my own foot off. I hate lying to him.”
“Harper, I can’t—”
“I know,” she says softly. “I-just, if he ever finds out he may never trust me again. We’re close. I’ve always been honest with him. It’s my guilt. I’ll deal with it. He’s just, really protective of me because of what happened.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“With that guy?”
I nod.
She swallows, her eyes cast down. “I was fourteen. He told me he really liked me and talked me into sneaking over to see him. He’d been my crush since third grade. I wanted so badly to believe him. Being with him was… he made me feel…high. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“He pressured me, sweet-talked me into it, but he didn’t make me. It wasn’t like that. I was willing, but I still knew it wasn’t right. I knew I wasn’t ready. Anyway,” she looks down, picking at non-existing lint off the sheet, “it lasted only seconds, but it was painful and horrible. But that wasn’t the worst part. He recorded it to show his friends.”
“Jesus, Harper.”
“Yeah, well, he’s the one who should have been embarrassed, he’s the minute man.”
“Don’t joke.”
She runs her fingers over my chest lost in that time. “Trust me, it will never be funny.”
“It’s no wonder why coach is ready to kill us. If that happened to my kid, I’d flip shit.”
“It circulated through the school. My sister didn’t speak to me for months. After that, my whole life imploded. I was totally out of control and I couldn’t stop crying. My parents pulled their hair out. I had to go to therapy. Bad, bad time.”