Pucker Up Page 13

  “I should probably go soon.” I turn my head to look at his digital alarm clock, the red numbers softly glowing in the semi-darkness beside his lamp. It’s almost two o'clock in the morning. I’ve never stayed at a guy’s house before, and I don’t want to assume that he wants me to.

  “It’s late. Just stay.”

  “Are you sure? I can call a cab.”

  “Not a chance. I’d have to walk you, and I’m so lazy right now I don’t think I could get out of bed. Besides, having you naked in my bed isn’t something I’m willing to give up—just yet.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Positive.” He stops tickling my back and lays back down, facing me. He thumps his pillow to plump it up. “The guys will tease you in the morning, though. Just so you know. Not sure I’ve ever let anyone stay the night before.”

  “Not even Sam?” I say, teasing him. “You were with her for a while, right?”

  “It’s all relative. I told you we weren’t serious.”

  “I think she thinks you were.”

  He narrows his eyes at me, as if trying to read my thoughts, which thank God, he can’t. Laying naked next to him leaves me vulnerable enough, let alone him reading my thoughts. “Is she bothering you?”

  I hitch a shoulder. “Not really. I think she still cares a lot about you. Don’t be mad at her.”

  “I’m not. But she’s been...a little over the top. Maybe a little obsessive. We’ve been over for months, and she still texts and asks the guys about me…about what I’m up to…or who I’m seeing.”

  “It’s hard to let go of something that means so much to you.”

  “Hmm, I suppose.” He covers his mouth to let out a cough. After clearing his throat, he adds, “I didn’t realize she was that into me until I ended things. I half wonder if it’s the rejection more than me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He takes my hand, slowly moving his thumb along the top of mine. “I don’t know how well you know her, but she’s all about appearances. I don’t think she’s ever had a boyfriend that wasn’t a hockey or football player. And she’s used to guys falling over her. I wasn’t that guy. I think it bothered her. She said as much—more than once. That I wasn't attentive enough...that I was lucky to have her...”

  “She’s really beautiful.”

  “You know what’s even more beautiful? A girl who has no idea how sexy and amazing she is.”

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  My cheeks heat as his hand slips out of mine and his fingers walk up along my arm before reaching my shoulder. The hair on my neck and back stand on end, and I close my eyes and enjoy it. He touches his thumb to my lips before tucking his hand under his pillow.

  “You said you didn’t date a lot. I just don’t get that. What morons are stupid enough to let you pass them by. Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with it. It’s their loss.”

  “I didn't always look like this. Not that I’m hot or anything now, but I used to be so much heavier. When my parents started fighting all the time, I turned to food and locked myself away in my room.”

  “Did they divorce?”

  “Yeah. When I was twelve. I ballooned. I just hated myself. All their fighting was over me.”

  “They each wanted custody?”

  I shake my head. “I wish. No…my dad is a travel photographer and photojournalist. All those National Geographics in my room?”

  He nods.

  “My dad has a picture or article in each of them. I wanted my parents to share custody when they separated so I could still see them both, but my dad never fought for it. Mom didn’t want to give me up, but she hated that Dad didn’t fight for me. He insisted she have me full time because of his job. So, I saw him maybe a handful of times a year. Even now, I get a call on birthdays and holidays and I see him at Christmas—maybe.” My chest grows tight, even after all this time. My dad was the first man to reject me, and I feel it still. When I called him again last night, it went to voicemail. He still hasn’t returned my call from the other day, or from the last five weeks.

  “I’m sorry. That had to be rough.”

  “It was. I’ve come to terms with it. Mom sent me to a good therapist, and by the time I graduated from high school, I’d lost the weight I put on and hated myself a little less. I know their divorce wasn’t my fault, but it took me forever to really own that.”

  “People divorce because they fall out of love. If they didn’t fight about you, they’d have fought about something else.”

  “I still love him,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Of course, you do.”

  “But life is good,” I say with a shrug. “Mom remarried and my step-dad is really great, but…”

  “He’s not your dad.”

  I love that he’s able to read me without having to explain.

  “I know what you mean,” he says. “The lady who took me in was great, but she’ll never be my mom or dad.”

  “Do you love her?”

  His brows draw inward. “Yeah. I do. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

  I adjust the sheets, tucking them under my arm. “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

  “She is. But since losing my family, it’s hard to let myself feel too much for anyone. Life is short and you never know when someone could be taken from you.”

  That online image invades my thoughts again. I gulp, feeling choked up. He hasn’t mentioned his sister, only his parents. No wonder he finds it hard to open up to people. But then, I don’t see this. I’ve only heard this. He gives me bits and pieces, but I’ve only known him a few days, and he’s already given me more than I ever expected him to, more than he’s given many others. It makes me realize how much he really cares for me. His affection is like a ray of sunshine on my face, warm and comforting. I find it hard to let myself care too much too, but it’s so easy with him, so I guess I understand why he might feel the same about me.

  “I’m so sorry you lost your family.”

  “I’m sorry your dad’s an ass.”

  I frown first, but then let out a chuckle. I love my dad. God knows I do, but he’s never there when I need him. Only my mom is. Yet I idolize him. I’ve been waiting for the day when he’ll finally realize I’m worth his time. But I have yet to feel that way. The only way I’ve ever been able to get his attention is through talking about his job, by taking his interests and making them my own.

  “Your mom seems nice, though. And your sister. And your grandmother...she seems like a firecracker.”

  I smile at the thought of Mom and Babcia. “They’re pretty amazing.”

  “What about your sister?”

  I heave a sigh and tap a finger to my lips. “What can I say about Amanda? Amanda is...interesting."

  “How so?”

  I consider my words carefully. I try not to talk badly about people if I can help it, especially family, but it’s hard with Amanda. “She and I are very different.”

  “That’s not hard to see.”

  I raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to elaborate.

  “She seems intense.”

  There’s some noise in the halls, and it gives me pause. We’re talking in whispers, but I worry his roommates will hear us. It amazes me how quiet they’ve been since we got here.

  I lower my voice. “Do you think I’m intense? Emily calls me that all the time.”

  “Sure. But not like your sister. I only met her for maybe two minutes, but she reminded me of Sam.”

  I nod, my face rubbing against the soft fabric of the pillowcase. “Sam,” I repeat. He’s not far off on that one. Pretty, smart, well-liked, and popular. Amanda and Sam probably had very similar lives in high school. “You might be right. She can be nice. Everyone loves her, but if I'm honest, Amanda had a habit of making my life difficult in high school. I got teased…a lot. Not just because I was overweight, but I had an awful set of teeth and then braces until graduation. We’d been sisters since seventh grade, and when people tease
d me or hurt me, she would laugh with them. She never once stuck up for me—not in public. She’d come to my room at night and try and say sorry without actually meaning it—or ever actually saying it. I resented her for a long time. Not so much anymore, but we’re not close. I’m not sure we ever will be.”

  He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “People like that piss me off. I saw that in high school, too. There was a lot of it where I went. Maybe more so. Too many rich kids with absent parents looking for attention. The people there didn’t single others out for just how they looked, but also because of who their parents were and how much money they had.”

  “Did they tease you?”

  “No,” he says quietly. “I was six feet tall by the time I was fourteen, and I played sports and played well. The guys respected me, and I guess that was enough for people to leave me alone. Even if I went there on scholarship.”

  I take his hand and hold it in close between us, against my chest.

  “It also helped that the one guy who tried to pick a fight with me ended up on his ass with a broken nose.”

  “Do you fight a lot?”

  “I’m not a thug or anything, but if someone gets in my face, I won’t back down.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I wasn’t judging you. I wish to God that I stood up for myself in high school. Maybe I would’ve had a better experience.”

  “I still don’t get it. I think you’re amazing. And if anyone gives you a hard time now, tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”

  I chuckle quietly. “I'm not going to ask you to beat up some girl. Besides, I wouldn’t be here right now if I thought you would.”

  “True. I have my limits.”

  “Yeah? What kind of limits?” I bite my lip, clench the tender flesh between my thighs, suddenly feeling insanely excited as I imagine this sweet guy coming to my rescue. I can take care of myself, but there is a need in every girl to feel protected and safe. It taps into something primal, something intensely erotic.

  He lets go of my hand and rolls on top of me. Although he’s heavy, he balances his weight on his bent arms. I want my chest pressed against his so I pull him in closer, not caring if he’s heavy. My breasts flatten and his cock stirs, poking me in just the right spot. I want him. Desperately. But as he stares deep into my eyes and brushes his fingers across my face to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I’m hit by the intensity of my emotions. Of how much I’m falling for him. It’s scary and exciting, and I wish to God I could live in this moment forever. With his eyes closed, he tips his head forward to touch his lips to mine. He presses lightly before his tongue flicks out. I give him what he wants, while at the same time, I arch my hips and drive him harder against my pelvic bone. He pushes back, his rock-hard length pressing in tightly against me. He grinds his hips as his tongue dances with mine, and I wrap my legs around him. They fit perfectly around his middle, like they were built for this and only this.

  “I’m going to be sore in the morning,” I say as I pull away from his mouth to take a breath.

  “Baby, you haven’t felt anything yet.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He was right. I hadn’t felt anything yet. As my eyes open and focus on the foreign room with pale walls and hockey posters, it takes me a moment to stop focusing on my throbbing vagina. It will be hard to sit through class this morning.

  Oh, shit. What time is it?

  I look to my left and find Ozzie gone so I look right to the alarm clock. It’s almost nine. This week I have gone off the rails. The class I’m about to miss will be the third this week. That’s more than I've missed in both junior and high school combined!

  My phone buzzes, and I sit up in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest. The room is semi-dark with the shades drawn, but the sunlight peeks in through the gap between the blind and the window. It’s enough for me to see where I’m stepping as I get up and move around the room. By a chair near the window, my pants hang over the edge of the seat. My phone is half out, the display screen glowing.

  I bend over to snatch it and frown at the screen. Mom. My finger hovers over the button to answer. The last thing I want to do is talk to her while I’m here. And I have no idea where Ozzie is or when he’ll be back. I can’t believe he left me without saying goodbye. Did I do something wrong? Was I lousy in bed? I mean, I suppose I could have been. I didn’t have much experience to draw from. I would have no idea if I did something wrong. Although it was good for me…beyond good.

  The call ends, and I release a breath I find myself holding. Then it starts ringing again. She’s going to keep calling.

  Sighing, I press the answer button and adjust my groggy morning voice to upbeat and happy. She’ll assume I’ve been up for hours and about to go to class. That is what the normal me would be doing right now. But I’m not feeling myself. Something has shifted inside of me since I met Ozzie. It’s so bizarre how little I recognize myself right now.

  “Hi, Mom!” I come off a little too perky.

  “How many coffees have you had this morning? You sound insane.”

  I clear my throat and lower my voice. “Sorry. Is that better?”

  “No.” On the other end of the phone, a car’s horn honks and an engine roars.

  “Is everything ok, Mom?”

  She growls. “Some jackoff just cut me off and then gave me his middle finger, like it was my fault!”

  “Why are you calling me if you’re driving?”

  She clucks her tongue. “You’re on Bluetooth.”

  “Maybe you should call me back later.” I search for my bra and underwear and find them scattered on the floor. I pull on my bra while holding the phone against the crook of my neck. Then I grab my Wonder Woman panties and almost laugh at myself. Thank God, he didn’t say a word about them when he pulled them off me last night. I forgot I had them on.

  “Your sister is driving me crazy. You’ve always been the one with an eye for details, but when it comes to this party, she’s one-upped you on so many levels. She’s asked me at least eight times if I called the caterer. The last time I spoke with her she wanted me to show proof on my phone that I actually called. I swear, she might not be blood, but you’re two peas in a pod.”

  I take a breath. “No, Mom, we’re nothing alike.”

  “I thought so too, but…now I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you need, Mom? What can I do?”

  “Tell me you’re going to wear that dress we bought and you’re going to love it.”

  “What dress?”

  She sighs. “I texted you a picture.”

  “Hang on.” I scroll through my messages and find one from the other day when they paid me a surprise visit. How did I miss this? The dress is to the knees and a dark blue color. The neckline is low but not low enough for me to feel uncomfortable. It’s not my style, but I don’t hate it and I’ll wear anything if it keeps Amanda from driving my mother crazy.

  I put the phone back up against my ear. “I’m going to wear the dress, and I'm going to love it.”

  “But you don’t love it, do you?”

  I pull on my pants and zip them up before buttoning them. “Mom, I’ve never cared about clothes. I’ll wear a garbage bag if it makes your life easier.”

  Mom yells at someone, and another horn beeps. “Moron,” she says quietly. Then to me, “I love you, dear. I can always count on you.”

  “Like I said, whatever you need.”

  “How is that boy you’re seeing? What was his name? Ozzie? That's a strange first name, isn’t it? Is it a nickname?”

  “He plays hockey, so everyone calls him by his last name.”

  “What’s his surname?”

  I close my eyes and tip my head back, trying not to groan. “Ozmore.” She's going to try to find out everything she can about him. Fortunately, she won’t be able to find much. This is the first time his secret past has worked to my favor.

  “Where is he from?”

  “Mom, I have class.”

  “
I like this one, Charlie. He's smitten with you.”

  “You barely met him. How could you tell?”

  “It’s in the eyes,” she says.

  All in the eyes. She’s crazy. I don’t believe she can see through him so clearly, but I like thinking his feelings are transparent. Though they don’t feel this way this morning. However, after I get off the phone with Mom, I notice a dartboard on the back of his door with a dart in the bullseye and a note hanging from it.

  I approach it, wiggle the dart free, and grip the edge of the note.

  Early practice. Didn't want to wake you. Stay as long as you want. Hope to see you in my bed again. O

  A goofy smile claims my lips. If I took him literally, I might be offended and assume last night was all about sex, but I know he’s teasing me. This isn’t just about sex. I’m confident of him in a way I’ve never been confident about anything else.

  I finish getting dressed and head for the stairs, passing an open door along the way. Two muscular guys are in the room, one on the edge of the bed and the other sitting in a chair with his feet up on the desk. They watch me keenly, their eyes trained on my movements. I pick up my pace, feeling uncomfortable, as if I’m taking the walk of shame, although it’s not the case.

  As I reach the stairs, I come face to face with Ryan, the guy from the change room the other night. He holds a cereal bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. He swallows hard and chuckles. “Walk of shame. Own it, girl.”

  With my arms curled around my middle, I jog down the stairs and yank on the front door. I hurry back to the dorm, convinced that I smell of sex and sweat. I take an extra-long shower, soaping every single crevice, some sensitive and sore to touch. As I move my hands over my breasts and between my legs, I close my eyes and remember the feel of his soft hands on my skin and how they brought me to the edge of ecstasy before his rock-hard erection finished the job. It almost makes me want to touch myself, and my fingers linger on my lower lips, aching for him again.

  The door of my shower stall shakes and I jump, almost tripping over the bar of soap that springs from my free hand. “Jesus!”