Sweet Dandelion

“Oh God,” I cry out when his other hand slides around to rub my clit.

With the hand at my throat he urges my head back more, capturing my lips with his.

“Lachlan,” I pant his name. I grab onto his hand near my throat and my nails dig into his skin. “It feels so good. You make me feel so good.”

His moans and grunts echo against my ear, along with his breath. It’s so sinfully erotic and highlighted even more so by the way the planes of his body feel behind me.

He pumps into me harder then pulls out suddenly. Before I can protest he flips me back around and I’m lying flat on the bed. He climbs onto the bed with me, his body shadowing mine. He thrusts back in and he stifles my sounds with a kiss. He loops our fingers together beside my head, rocking in and out of me. The friction has me gasping and another orgasm is building. It doesn’t take long before I go off, my body shaking and clenching around the fullness of him inside me.

He rises up, grabbing my hips between his hands, and pounds into me harder than before.

“Lachlan!” I cry out, my fingers grasping at his stomach, scratching the skin.

Another orgasm hits me and I’ve barely recovered from the last. He grunts, his moan long and drawn out as he comes too. He finishes, yanking off the condom. He tosses it in the wastebasket near the bed and tugs at his sweat-damp hair before lying beside me. He wraps his arms around me, yanking me against his side where he peppers gentle kisses against my neck.

He keeps whispering something over and over again.

It’s a few minutes before I realize he’s saying he’s sorry.

Only, I don’t know what he’s sorry for.

When he makes love to me again, this time slower, sweeter, I think I must not have heard those words at all.

Chapter Sixty-One

On Monday, the majority of the senior class doesn’t seem to have recovered from prom. People seem half asleep or still hungover despite a whole day of recovery in between.

I carry my saran wrapped chicken salad sandwich into the library, surprised to find I’m the last one to arrive.

Ansel looks up at the sound of my feet approaching and I know he’s still mad. I called him yesterday, but he ignored all calls and text messages from me.

Please don’t be mad at me, my eyes say.

He glares back at me and I know my silent communication is doing no good. I messed up, I know. Ansel was my prom date, as friends or not, I disrespected him by disappearing, and if he knew where I’d gone … well, I doubt he would ever speak to me again.

“Saturday night was wild,” Sasha says, stifling a yawn, “I can’t believe you ditched us, where did you go?”

I feel Ansel’s eyes on me, waiting for some kind of explanation that could possibly be good enough.

“I … uh, I went home.”

“You went home? God, you’re such a party pooper.” She tosses a wrapper at me.

Seth, of course, says nothing and Ansel has joined him on the silent train today.

I feel sick to my stomach, because the weight of everything is getting to me suddenly. I hate keeping secrets like this and that’s all Lachlan and I are—one giant secret.

Picking at my sandwich, I tear it into chunks, suddenly not hungry at all. My stomach churns with unsettling emotions.

Sasha drones on and on about the party. I’m so tempted to yell at her and tell her I don’t care about the party, but since she’s the only one speaking it’s better than the silence.

When the bell rings I rush after Ansel. I catch up to him in the hall, my hand wrapping around his elbow. He freezes, his whole body taut like he’s disgusted by my touch.

If he only knew.

“Please, let me talk Ansel. I’m so sorry.” I try to tug him toward a less busy hall, but he won’t budge.

He whips his head toward me, blue eyes narrowed and brow angry. “You told Sasha you’d meet us there, but you never did. I went in and looked for you, you know?” He seethes, vibrating with anger from head to toe. “You ignored my texts and I was fucking worried about you. But you didn’t care about that. I could’ve taken you home. We could’ve gotten a cab or the limo could’ve dropped you off. What the hell went wrong? I thought you were having fun. You seemed happy.” He glares down at me, waiting for my rebuttal.