by Shey Stahl
Share? He certainly doesn’t mean it in that context, I assure you.
I can’t see Asa’s face to judge his reaction, but he answers rather calmly with, “Didn’t see you.”
Roman halts his steps as if he intended to walk by us, but then decided not to. “Oh, and Barrette?”
I don’t say anything, but our eyes meet, and there’s something incredibly different about his expression. Scary? No… that’s not it. Intimidating? Nope. Have you ever looked up Ted Bundy? Remember how he drew his victims in with his handsome looks and charming personality? Then he turned into a monster, disturbed by an insurmountable evil that resided inside him? In that moment, that second my gaze locks on Roman’s, I think to myself, he played his part well. Normal, well-liked star athlete who could have any girl he wanted, and did. But that’s what makes him dangerous. With that look, I see right through the charm, the blue eyes and the dark hair and all that resides is that insurmountable evil I talked about.
He whispers the words “Lawyer up, honey” in passing, a cunning smirk playing on his face.
I grip Asa’s jacket, and I think in that fraction of a second when Roman and I caught a glimpse of one another, he knew I saw through him.
Asa turns and faces me, his expression somewhere between livid and worried. It’s half and half. He looks down at my hands in his, then slides his eyes back to mine. “I’m sorry. I pulled you away when I saw him. I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to follow us.”
“Yeah,” I expel another heavy breath, my shaking and trembling starting up again. “Well, I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to start the case off with lies.”
His jaw snaps closed. “What?”
“He told his attorney that we had been dating and he broke it off last week. Apparently, me choosing now to file the report meant I was trying to get revenge over him.”
Can you take a guess as to what Asa’s reaction to that one is?
Complete and utter hysterics. Ha. He freaking busts up laughing. “He fuckin’ wishes,” he says with a chuckle, though there’s a hard edge to his words as he shifts his cold eyes down the hall where Roman is gathered with a group of women.
There’s a part of me that wants to run to them and tell them not to go anywhere with him, but then again, my thoughts went back to that cop that questioned me yesterday. “What evidence do you have that it was him other than finding a hat that may or may not have been his?”
My answer? My vagina test.
Yes, I said that, because I panicked and forgot the name.
I pray I haven’t let justice slip through my hands.
Asa pulls me into him, his hands on my hips. “Let’s go. If I’m here any longer, I’m going to go after him.”
Nodding, I twist and begin walking with him, his arm slung around my shoulder as we pass by groups of girls staring at us. I don’t look at them; instead, my eyes are on the ground. My thoughts unintentionally drift back to Roman. I try to recall any memory of that night again, but still, nothing more comes to mind.
Asa must sense my mood and tightens his grip. “You okay?”
We’re outside the stadium now, the night so different from the noise of the last few hours. I stop, my eyes drifting to his, and then up at the sky. “I hate that I can’t remember any details, but I think maybe that’s a good thing because the idea of remembering something so brutal might be too much.”
Asa pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “You were drugged. There are always going to be parts of it you’re never going to remember.”
He’s right, there will be, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could.
We start walking again, slower, heading toward my dorm when he laughs lightly. “You’re handling it better than I thought you would though.”
I look up at him, reaching for his hand that’s slung over my shoulder. “Handling what?”
“Everything since I told you about the hat and going to the police.”
“I’m relieved.”
He pulls away slightly, just enough to see my face. “You are? Why?”
I curl in closer to him, refusing to allow any space between us with the cool night air whipping around. Letting go of his hand, I brush my hair from my face. “Because. I don’t know that my fear would have ever allowed me to make the decision on my own to go to the police and file the report. This gave me the push I needed. You did.”
He breathes out what I can only assume is the breath he’d been holding waiting on my words. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Like the night you saved me.”
A smile lifts his lips, blinking slowly. “You’re worth it.” His head dips forward and I think he’s going to kiss me, but then some students in the distance scream his name and I jump. His hold tightens when they approach, wanting his autograph and pictures with him. And though he keeps me tucked to his side the entire time—aside from pictures as I’m sure they don’t want me in—Asa never gives any of the women pawing at him an indication he’s not totally devoted to the girl purple and gold threw up on.
We’re back at my dorm, standing at the door when I unlock it. “It’s crazy how they worship you,” I tease when another group passes by, giggling and fawning over his every move.
Asa leans his shoulder into the wall, rolling his eyes. “They’re clearly misinformed.”
I bite my lip, remembering just how bad I want to be alone with him. “Oh, I think I understand it.” His heated stare locks on mine, and suddenly it feels like a thousand degrees in the hallway. There are students passing by, all of them wearing dawg gear, celebrating the win, but I don’t see any of them. I don’t think Asa does either. We’re trapped in a moment only we share. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice some of his teammates trying to coax him away. “Lawson!” they scream, waving and jumping around.
He laughs and flicks his hand at them, as if to say, go away.
I grip the front of his jacket in my fists and sigh. There’s no other place I’d rather be than in his arms. “Did you want to go party with your team?”
Asa’s smiling, and though I know all his smiles, this one feels unfamiliar. He shakes his head and backs me up against the door, his hands on my hips. “You’re where I want to be.”
Taking a shuddering breath, I smile, too, and his lips find my neck and trail up my jaw, his body crowding mine. “Do you want me to leave?”
I shake my head frantically, violently. No way I want him to leave. “No,” I gasp, my hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders. I rise up on my tippy-toes to bring his lips to mine. “I want you here with me. Always.” And when his warm lips find mine, I know he’s exactly what I need, our pulses sharing the same rhythm.
There’s a beat of silence before Asa clears his throat. I push the door open.
“We don’t have to do anything besides hang out,” he reminds me when we’re inside my dorm, and I’m looking at my bed, and then him. He shakes his head like he’s trying to rid himself from naughty thoughts.
I laugh nervously, remembering what Lexi told me about sex. “My therapist says having sex is unhealthy.”
Peeling his jacket off, he smirks. His scent hits me: male, sweat, hotness. “She must be doing it wrong.”
My laughter comes easy that he makes light of it. “Probably. We can watch a movie.” Before I get my iPad off my desk, Asa grabs my hand, halting me. His expression is conflicted. “I mean it. We don’t have to do anything. I didn’t come here expecting us to have sex.”
I grin. “Not even a little bit?”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, yeah. A lot of me wants it, but I didn’t come here for that. I want to be with you.”
His calmness, his warmth, it’s everything I need tonight. “Let’s just see where it goes from here.” My hand slides into his and I lead him over to my bed setting the iPad on the nightstand.
Asa follows, kicking off his shoes and his sweatshirt next. I do the same, but I take my jeans off too. I
t’s more comfortable that way. Naturally, Asa groans and falls face-first on the bed dramatically. “You’re making it difficult,” he mumbles into my pillow and then grips it in his fists.
I don’t know what it is about seeing him take his frustration out on my poor undeserving pillow, but it sends a jolt of desire between my legs. I want to crawl on top of him and show him how much I want him.
Asa twists his head at my laughter ringing through the room. He’s still flat on his stomach, glaring. “Put something on. I can’t lay here with you if you don’t have something on.”
My eyes flicker from his to the movie now playing on my iPad, the colors reflecting off the jar on my nightstand and Asa’s tense features. I look back to his face. He’s still glaring at me. Rolling my eyes, I move toward my dresser, pull on a pair of cotton shorts and throw my arms up in the air. “Better?”
He rolls over and scrubs his hands over his face. “No.”
“Too bad.” I take a few steps toward the bed.
“Fine.” Suddenly he sits up. With a smirk, he peels his shirt off and tosses it at my head.
The scent of him hits me. I breathe in slowly. Damn him. “Ugh” is my response. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Homefield advantage.”
“For who?”
“You.” He winks, lying back down on the bed and tucking his hands behind his head. “But I won the coin toss.”
With him stretched out on my very small twin bed, I make a slow pass over his body. From his long legs, his hips and the way his jeans hang low, I fight the urge to jump on him. The top of his boxers peek out just a little bit. A fraction of an inch higher, the cut lines of his V is where my eyes fixate. I take another step closer, as if he has a gravitational pull over me.
His breathing quickens, his stomach flexing when he moves his hands from behind his head and sits up. Swinging his legs around the side of the bed, he reaches for me, his hands circling around the backs of my bare thighs. Higher, higher… tentatively, as if he’s dealing with a bomb that’s about to detonate, his hands find the swell of my bottom.
I concentrate on breathing in and out, trying not to hyperventilate. His head leans against my stomach. I thread my hands through his hair, my body trembling with want. And then he squeezes my backside at the same time a rumble leaves his chest. Desire, need, love, it’s all written in his eyes when they lift to mine and he tips his head back, lids heavy.
I move, lifting one leg on the edge of my bed, then the other so I’m straddling him. I don’t sit, though. I keep about an inch of frustrating space between our hips. We’re both panting when Asa’s strong hands return to my butt. This time he slips them underneath my shorts to my bare skin.
His mouth finds the space between my neck and shoulder, his scruffy jaw gliding over my sensitive skin. The way his quick pants hit my already heated skin, it’s too much. I need more.
I need all of him.
His hungry lips search mine in an almost frantic manner and when they finally weld to mine, I bring my hips in line with his and rock against him. It’s everything, and so much more. Tingles shoot through me. I gasp, I moan, heck, I’m not even sure what my reaction is because I pretty much lose the ability to comprehend anything, let alone remember to breathe at that point. It’s a blur and Asa’s reaction is similar. His kisses turn frantic, as if his next breath depends on mine. His hands working in sync, with determination as he removes my shirt and then my bra.
“Asa,” I gasp, pulling my mouth from his while driving my hips back and forth over him. We stay like that for what seems like forever, me rocking against him and his mouth moving lower, toward my breasts. Just before his mouth reaches their destination, he pauses, his hands trailing up my sides. With a gentle touch, he waits, his hands closing around them, his eyes on mine. He waits.
We haven’t been here before, believe it or not.
His eyes search mine, cheeks flushed, breathing barely controlled. Here’s an athlete in pristine condition and I make him breathless. Me!
Asa pauses, his mouth an inch from my right breast he’s holding in his hand. He’s asking, silently waiting for me to tell him it’s all right.
I blink slowly and coax his head forward with the slightest pressure on the back of his head, my unspoken consent. Tentatively, his lips brush the puckered hardness of my breast. It’s everything, and so much more. My hips halt, my entire body bursting into flames. If he wasn’t holding onto me, I would swear I’m floating. As cheesy as that sounds. And then he parts his lips, his tongue darting out. The wetness, the heat… I moan at the intense rush that floods through me, my eyes rolling back, my spine arching and my fingers digging into his hair. His tongue flicks across the hard nipple. My panties are drenched, a slickness suddenly allowing me to grind against him with ease.
He closes his mouth around the pebbled skin and then he sucks, and I can’t look. I squeeze my eyes shut, throw my head back, and hump him. His hands drop from my breasts to my hips, coaxing me along and driving my movements. Sliding me against his length, he lifts his hips to meet mine while never parting his mouth from my chest. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before, yet familiar because everything he gives me, the friction between my legs, his hot tongue swirling and sucking, it rushes up on me and before I know it, my orgasm explodes out of nowhere.
I cling to him, gripping his hair between my fingers and forget all about any boundaries, where we are, everything. I scream out, louder than ever before, and if someone had been listening outside my door, they would have known exactly what was happening in here.
Suddenly, Asa grips my hips, his mouth moving from my chest and halts my movements. “Fuck,” he groans, his words shaking. “I’m gonna come. Stop.” And then he lifts my hips up, breaking our connection.
I pant against his ear, unable to control my breathing. Part of me wants to see him come. So on the edge he can’t stop from coming in his jeans. Yes, please. I’d like to see that. I don’t say that, but I do let out a little giggle and then slap my hand over my tomato-red face. He doesn’t find much humor in it, his eyes heavy-lidded as he flops himself back on my bed, his chest rising and falling quickly.
I watch him, the flickering of the movie reflected in his eyes. I slide my stare lower to the barely concealed strain against the denim. Reaching out, I touch him there. His eyes flutter closed. I trace the button of his jeans, slowly, then unbutton them. I unzip and push them open. Carefully I begin to lower his jeans and boxers, but Asa stops me and sits up. He takes my hands in his. “We need to slow down.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Why?”
“Because,” he sighs, “your therapist was right. We should talk about what makes you uncomfortable.”
I move to sit in front of him. “Nothing you’ve done so far makes me uncomfortable.”
He nods, his breathing slow, but then his hands find his hair. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”
I shake my head even though I know what he’s talking about. The night I told him harder, and he reluctantly gave me what I wanted. I don’t answer, and he groans, reading the emotions on my face. “That’s what I’m talking about. I see it on your face. You have to tell me because we can’t do anything until I know everything that bothers you.”
He waits for me to respond, his eyes anxious when I don’t say anything.
“Tell me,” he begs.
It hits me then. Since I told him what the therapist said, I bet he just spent the last fifteen minutes obsessing over it and finding a way to let me down that we weren’t having sex tonight. I chew on my lip and try to recall that night and what set me off. “It’s not what you did… I think it just sort of surfaced out of nowhere if that makes sense.”
He stares at me. “No, not really.”
“Okay.” I draw in a careful breath, seeing he’s frustrated with me. “How about this? If anything you do makes me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you right away and we stop.”
He nods, unconvinced but nodding n
onetheless.
I can see his mood has changed and tears surface. “Asa, come on. Believe me.”
“I do.” His words come out strangled. My eyes dart to his, and I see his are glassy, wavering. “I will never be rough with you. I just can’t. Ever.”
Feeling like I’ve won, I nod and crawl on his lap. I nibble on his jaw and straddle him again. He gave me an out and I’m not taking it. I know what I want.
He sighs, his head tipping back to reveal his neck. I take full advantage and reach between us, my hand slipping inside his boxers to see he’s still hard and ready. “You’re not helping,” he growls, bringing his mouth to mine.
“That’s my plan. I’m looking to sack the quarterback, and I think I just broke through his offensive line.”
That gets him. “Fuck it,” he mumbles, and I’m on my back in one quick movement and he’s hovering above me. My panties come off first, then his jeans pushed down just enough for him to enter me. I stretch around him, spreading my legs wider to drive him deeper inside. He lifts up, watching my reaction. “I love you,” he pants, his brows drawn together in concentration. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you,” I tell him, over and over again, clutching him to my body. He brings his chest to mine, pushing into me a little harder, but still, careful. He slows his pace and kisses me. The weight of his athletic body pressing to mine, the dewy warmth of his skin, it sends my heart kicking wildly against my breastbone.
Digging my heels into the mattress, I shift my hips, feeling the euphoric shift between us, two lovers tangled together. Threading my fingers through his hair, I yank. The harder I yank, the harder his thrusts come. Okay, so no rough for me but I can basically pull his hair, and he digs it. Weird. Sinking my nails into his back, his pace quickens, his hand gripping my waist, my butt, the sheets, anywhere he can grasp something. Pride swells in my chest. We’re making progress.
He breaks our kiss long enough to whisper another “I love you,” and then he buries his face in my neck, wrapping his arms around my torso. I grasp his face with both my hands, wanting him to look at me when he comes. With two more thrusts, he stills, pouring himself into me.