Something About a Hot Guy

“Kyle . . . oh . . . what.” My fingers sank into his shoulders, holding on for dear life because I wanted to live for this.

Forever and ever.

I beat back the insecurities that this was a one-time thing. The worry that maybe he thought hooking up with me might be easy. Convenient since we were staying in the same house.

Even if it was, I knew I’d willingly give up anything to get to experience this with him.

All my firsts.

My trust given to him.

Praying even if he left me it wouldn’t break me in the end.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl. Don’t worry.” He was kissing me madly, his tongue devouring, the man taking the kiss down my chin and across my jaw, riding down my trembling throat.

He fed on it, his breaths coming shorter and shorter, as if maybe he wanted this as badly as me. “I’ve got you. I’m going to take care of you. I get it. I get it now.”

I could feel the frown pulling to my brow, but I tried to ignore it, the ripple of unease that billowed through my senses.

“You’re so brave. So brave.”

The confusion sharpened, and I tried to get lost in the feel of his hands that were slipping under my sweatshirt, firm and fierce and possessive. My hands curled in his hair as he kissed across my exposed collarbone, his chin nudging the fabric farther and farther down until he was licking across my breast that ached, wanting more of him.

But his words screamed in my mind.

“Brave? Why would say that?”

Why did he go from teasing me last night to pushing it this morning? My thoughts raced, knocking me out of the passion, something yucky riding in to take its place.

“Who you are makes you brave. The fact you’re scared and anxious and go through all that bullshit you don’t deserve, and still you survive. That you continue to try to make the world a better place even after it’s been so cruel to you.”

His words were sweet, but they gave me pause, made me question. Made fear and hurt and rejection come barreling in.

Every insecurity I ever had flared. The feeling that no one would really ever see me for me.

Awareness sank to the pit of my stomach.

Dousing the fire.

My attention locked on my computer that still sat in the same place as it had last night. But I was certain it sat opened a fraction wider.

Horror and embarrassment and anger jumped into my veins, a disorder of hurt that sped and thrashed and crushed.

It raced to fill every cell with a sort of anguish I’d never experienced before. I was gasping, my sight fading, my heart feeling like it might rupture from the blow.

Kyle seemed to sense it. He edged back in a flash, that gorgeous face twisted in confusion and worry and lust, the man watching me with concern.

The air between us throbbed, thick and dense and deep.

Binding us together and somehow pushing us apart.

“Tell me why you’re saying that,” I pleaded, already knowing what he would say.

“I . . . I—” He hesitated, averting his gaze, and I just knew.

I just knew.

Humiliation stampeded through my spirit.

Devastating. Crushing. Cutting me in two.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

He roughed a hand through his hair, and finally he returned that intense gaze to me. “I . . . I’m sorry. I just caught a glimpse . . .”

A glimpse.

It sounded to me as if he knew a whole lot more.

As if he’d pried and overstepped.

Disrespected my privacy.

Betrayed the trust I’d been so willing to give.

The only thing I’d ever wanted was for him to want me for me.

Tears broke free, and I started to squirm, struggling to get out of his hold, needing get away from him before I fully lost it.

He cinched down on my sides to keep me from running. “Kenna, please listen, it wasn’t—”

A sob left me, cutting him off. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. Don’t give me some stupid excuse. I . . . I don’t even want to hear it. Can’t hear it. Please, let me go.”

“Please,” Kyle begged, struggling to draw me closer. “You don’t understand. Please, just listen.”

I shoved his chest. “Kyle, let me go!” I screamed, verging on hysterical, this feeling that he was doing this to appease some childhood fantasy of mine making me sick.

Nausea swirled through my guts and climbed up my throat.

I was so stupid.

So stupid.

I could feel a panic attack coming on.

The kind that overwhelmed and brought me to my knees and would take days to recover from.

Shamed laughter rolled out. Who was I kidding? This was going to take a lifetime to recover from. Did anyone simply recover from their first love?

He staggered back a foot, his chest heaving, his skin lit in a golden sheen of sweat.