I slid back up her body, feeling like a fucking champ. Her eyes were half-shut, her hair spread out on my pillows, nipples tight and hard. She was a fucking goddess.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, the back of her knuckles brushing along my cheek. “I think you need a new medal to add to your collection.”
I nuzzled her neck. “Oh yeah?”
“Bianca Clit Champion.”
I threw my head back on a laugh. “It’s my honor to accept. I’d like to thank my tongue, Jesus Christ, and Men’s Health for their oral sex articles.”
It was her turn to laugh before she pressed her lips to mine.
A little while later, we were both still awake, her hand resting on my chest, fingers running over the ridges of my abs.
“You said before that you’ve never had sex?” she asked in the dark, quiet of my bedroom.
I yawned. “Not the ol’ P in V, no.”
She giggled, and I liked the sound. Sometimes Bianca seemed so much older than twenty-one with the way she carried herself, but like this, laying in my bed while giggling, she seemed relaxed. Herself.
“P in V.” She snorted. “Is there a reason?”
“A reason I’m a virgin?”
“Yeah, like did you make a commitment to not doing it before marriage or something?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“So?”
I sighed. “First of all, Dad gave me the birds and bees talk young and consent was huge. As in, he scared the shit out of me that I was going to be the cause of pressuring some girl into sex. In high school, I had a girlfriend for a year, and her parents were really religious. She was shy. Sweet. No way was she letting me get in there and I don’t think I was ready for it yet anyway. We fizzled out when she moved.”
“And then?”
“In college…” I shrugged. “If some girls came onto me, I was terrified they were too drunk to consent.”
“Wow, your Dad should be a high school guidance counselor.”
“Yeah, his talks made an impression on me for sure. Anyway, then I’d waited so long that a quick hookup felt weird. I guess if I’m honest with myself, which I don’t think I’ve ever been…” I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I trusted anyone enough. I had all these thoughts like, what if I’m terrible at this? What if I hurt her? What if… just a million what ifs.”
“Lav.”
“Yeah, I know. I think too much. About everything.”
“You’re good with your fingers and tongue. I’m sure other things are good too.” She teased me with a pinch to my nipple.
“Hey,” I growled. “Easy on the nips.”
She smoothed her hand over my chest. “Well, I think all those reasons are good reasons. No need to rush any of that stuff anyway.”
Her voice had a rough edge to it. “Yeah? What about you?”
“What, you want my number?” She sassed but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty.
“Hey,” I frowned at her, rubbing her shoulder with my thumb. “I don’t give a shit. I thought we were sharing. I don’t want to just talk about myself. If you don’t want to talk about that, it’s okay. Tell me about your childhood pet or something.”
She laughed, the tension leaking out of her face. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy of me.”
“It’s fine.”
She cuddled into me, tucking her head under my chin. “That boyfriend I had, the one I was with for two years?”
“Yeah.”
“He was it. My first. Only actually.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“I thought I had too. Be with him like that, I mean. Looking back, I can see he pressured me, but at the time I thought it was just… wooing.”
“How did he pressure you?”
“He’d make comments about other women he’d been with. Their…skills. And how he valued that in a girlfriend.”
“Wow, he’s a dick.”
She laughed silently, her shoulders shaking. “Yeah. And it made me want to prove I was worthy of him. I see it now for what it was. He was manipulating me.”
“I can tell you right now, he’s not worthy of you.”
She patted my chest. “You’re cute when you’re riled.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“We did it. Whatever. It wasn’t that great and then he broke with me shortly after.”
“For the eighteen-year-old?”
“Yep.”
“Seriously, that guy was a douche. You know that right?”
She sighed and squeezed me. “Yeah. Anyway, after that I didn’t date. Then the stalking started. Then I came here. The last thing I needed or wanted was to fall for a guy. I want you to believe that Lavin. I just…enjoy being with you. You make me happy.”
“Well, ditto, B.”
“And you don’t pressure me to do anything more than I want to. I love that. It makes me feel safe.”
I wanted to beat my chest like a caveman. “That’s awesome to hear you say that. Makes the years of blue balls worth it.”
She smacked me and I laughed. She lifted her head and cradled my face in her palms. “I have a question though.”
I gazed into her brown eyes, so soft in the dim light of my bedroom. “Go for it.”
“Do you trust me? Would you…with me?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. To both.”
She smiled, and the sun rose, and angels sang, and pigs flew and wild horses wouldn’t have been able to drag me out of that bed. “Me too,” she whispered softly. “Me too.”
I brushed a stray stand of hair behind her ear. “Hearing you say that might be better than actually doing it.”
Her forehead plunked onto my chest as she squealed out a peal of laughter. I tugged on her hair with a grin. Then she lifted her head. “Not if we do it right.”
“How about we go to bed and stop talking about doing it, for fuck’s sake.”
She collapsed down onto me, her arm once again circling my waist. I drifted my hands through her hair as her breaths evened. Mine did the same a few minutes later.
Fourteen
Handsome Doofus
“Oh my God!”
“What the hell?” Deep voices jerked me out of sleep, and I opened my eyes to find both of my dads standing at the foot of my bed. Pop looked murderous and Dad’s eyes were bulging out of his skull, hands clapped over his mouth. I rubbed my eyes. “Morning. What’s wrong?”
Something tickled my shoulder. I glanced down to see long black hair spread out on the pillow beside me. I froze, remembering now that I had brought Bianca home without giving my dads a heads up and sneaking her in my bed. Oh shit. I slowed lifted my head with a grimace. “Uhhhh.”
“Lavin Michael Saint, what the hell is going on?” Pop’s voice was thunderous. And oh shit, full name and everything. “Why is there a girl in your bed?” This was how he acted, like he needed to protect the virtue of every woman ever, even if it was from his own son.
“Pop—”
Suddenly Bianca squeaked beside me. She was awake now, and staring at my dads with a terrified expression. She bolted from the bed, her legs tangling with the covers so she didn’t get her footing and went down with a hard thud on the floor. “B!” I scrambled over to edge of the bed, wearing only my boxers for fuck’s sake, and reached for her.
She moaned, holding her head, and held her arms up to me like a child. “I hit my head.”
I pulled her up and back into bed, wrapping my arms around her. “I know. Why the hell did you do that?”
“I don’t want your dads to judge me,” she mumbled into my neck.
“They’re not going to judge you. They’re going to judge me.”
Speaking of my dads, they were still there at the end of the bed. Being all silent except for their loud breathing. I hadn’t planned this out well, but I thought I’d wake up before them. I turned Bianca and me to face them. Thank God she was wearing my T-shirt.
My Dad’s face instantly changed. “Wait, is this
Bianca?”
“Yeah. Bianca, Dad and Pop. Dad and Pop,” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, “this is Bianca.”
They didn’t move for a long time. Finally Dad dropped his hands and wrapped his silk robe around himself a bit tighter as he smiled. He went right into host mode, like I knew he would. “Hello there, sweetheart. What would you like for breakfast? How do you take your coffee?” I shot him a grateful smile, and he gave me a tight one back that promised we’d talk later. Great.
“Um,” Bianca fingers played with the hem of my boxers. I wasn’t sure she realized she was doing it. “I take just a splash of milk. I’m not really hungry—”
“I’ll make waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs,” Dad announced. No one went hungry in his kitchen.
Her eyes widened. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you so much.”
“We’ll leave you to, uh, get dressed,” Dad said. He tugged on the sleeve of Pop’s flannel pajamas. “Come on.”
Pop looked like he was going to say something, but then my Dad clucked his tongue. “You know it’s not good for you to get your blood pressure up. Why don’t you work on some meditation and then we’ll all talk?”
My Pop hated meditation and only did it because Dad asked him too. I was pretty sure he did not meditate at all but instead thought about his fantasy football team. He shot me a glare like it was all my fault before turning on his heel and trudging up the stairs. When the door shut behind them, I blew out a breath.
“Shit, they hate me,” Bianca said miserably.
“They don’t,” I said. “I’m sure it’s a combination of things. You’re the first girl I brought home from college and they find out like this. My dad normally would have this grand affair and now he’s up there probably losing his shit because he wants things perfect.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s my fault. Not yours. I’ll talk to them and it’ll be fine.” I grinned. “They love me and they’ll love you.”
She gave me a weak smile, and then got off the bed to take a quick shower. I felt like shit. This was my fault. She didn’t deserve to get woken up like that. After laying out some of my clothes for her—a pair of my sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt with some thick socks—I ran upstairs. Dad dashed around the kitchen, muttering to himself as he made breakfast. Pop was sitting at the table reading the newspaper—decidedly not meditating.
“Okay,” I said, and they both turned to me. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Bianca means a lot to me and you never should have had to meet her in person like that. She’s really embarrassed and doesn’t deserve it. So you can be mad at me, but please be nice to her. Please?”
Dad blinked at me. “Of course we’ll be nice to her.”
Pop still didn’t say anything.
“We got in late last night,” I explained. “And something happened back in town that spooked her. She didn’t want to sleep by herself in a strange house.”
Suddenly Pop was alert. He was a protective bear when he wanted to be. Hell, he owned a security system business so it was in his blood. He also knew about her stalker already since I’d told them on the phone. “Spooked her? Is she okay?”
“I’ll explain in a bit. She’s showering and I don’t want her to get out and wonder where I went.”
Pop smoothed the paper down on the table. “I’m sorry I shouted down there. I don’t like surprises. Especially surprises like a girl in your bed.”
“I know.”
He cleared his throat. “Okay then. I look forward to getting to know your Bianca.”
I sped back downstairs thinking I really liked the sound of my Bianca. When I reached the bottom of the stairs—still in only my damn boxers—Bianca was standing with her back to me. She was dressed in my sweats, rolled over a few times at the waist, and her fingers fluttered over the shelves of soccer trophies and medals. I tried to look at my room from her eyes. I hadn’t thought much about it when we got in last night. It’d been dark and we’d been… yeah. Occupied. But in the morning light, I wondered what this room looked like to her. I still had posters on my walls of some of my favorite players—Messi and Neymar Jr.—that I’d put up in high school. A desk was in the corner, bare now that my laptop was at school.
The shelves holding my trophies were thanks to Pop. He was good with his hands and had made a fair amount of furniture in our house. He’d been insistent that all the awards I’d earned be showcased. A series of hooks on the wall displayed my medals, hanging from their different-colored ribbons.
Bianca didn’t turn around as I threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. I owed her an apology too, and was about to give it when she turned around, a pretty smile on her face. “It must feel cool to look at these and see all you’ve accomplished.”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess so. Team effort though. It’s not like I won those all on my own.”
“That’s something I’d expect you to say,” she said with a toss of her damp hair.
I sensed irritation in her tone and it made me frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She finally turned fully around, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you never take credit for what you earned.”
Wait, were we fighting? “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”
She waved her hand around with agitation. “I like that you’re not arrogant or cocky, but it worries me when you swing too far the other way. I used to think your self-deprecation was just your sense of humor but sometimes I wonder if it’s actually how you feel about yourself.”
I blinked at her, feeling more naked now than when I was just in her boxers. It would have been less painful if she’d stuck a knife in my gut and twisted. “Shit, tell me how you really feel,” I muttered.
Her face fell and she rushed forward. “No, you don’t understand.” She placed her hands on my chest and peered up at me, nibbling her bottom lip. “I’m messing this conversation up.”
I shrugged, thinking it was too early for this. I needed coffee, a shower, and maybe a good cry. Was this where she told me I was too immature for her?
“Lavin,” she said softly, drawing my attention. “I don’t feel any different about you. It’s frustrating for me because I don’t think you see yourself how I see you. How your roommates see you. Your teammates.”
I opened my mouth and said the first thing I could think of. “I don’t think they see me at all.”
Her breathy, sympathetic, “Oh Lavin,” made my chest tight.
I hated that. I didn’t need pity. I had a good life. Unremarkable, but good. “I mean, Shane and Dre maybe. But they have their own shit, their own lives.” My flight instinct was in full effect. All I wanted to do was end this conversation. I still hadn’t reached for her even though she was pressed against me. I didn’t trust my hands not to shake and I didn’t want her to see. “Bianca, I’m just me. If you want someone deeper and grander and I don’t know…” I ran my hands through my hair. “I can’t be someone I’m not.”
“I don’t want you to be anyone else.” Her voice was fiercer now, eyes narrowing. She shook her head, and her hair brushed my bare arms, making goose bumps rise on my skin. “I want you to be proud of who you are. I love how you look at me—any woman would kill to have a man look at them the way you look at me. But I get the impression you don’t think you’re worthy of me. And that’s bullshit.”
I stared at her. “Bianca, you’re…you.”
She shoved away from me, angry now, her hands fisted on her hips, body leaned forward as her face flushed. “Okay then if you want to play it that way, are you saying that I don’t have good taste in men? Are you saying that I can’t see how hot you are? That I can’t feel how you light me up with a touch?”
My heart pounded in my ears and inhaled sharply, filling my lungs so full that my chest expanded. Her words hit my bulls eye, dead center. She was fighting for me, to get me to see in myself what she saw in me, and it was like a switch flipped in my brain. I also got hard. Of course. “If my dads weren’t upstairs, I’d ta
ckle you to the bed right now.”
Her body jerked, like she hadn’t expected me to say that. I saw her lips twitch, but she kept her glare. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I took a step forward, and her features softened. When I grabbed her around the waist and hauled her against me, she didn’t resist. “I deserve you,” I whispered. “Is that what you want me to say?”
Her gaze landed somewhere on my chest. “It’s what I want you to believe.”
I laughed. “All right. How about, I’m halfway there and it’ll be fun to convince me down the homestretch?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, and her lips tilted into a sexy smile. “Deal.”
I kissed her nose. “I’m glad you like my trophies, B. I’m fond of them too.”
“After breakfast maybe you can tell me about some of them? Tournaments and such?”
“Sure.”
A knock sounded at the door at the top of the stairs. “You two coming?” Pop’s voice was muffled through the door. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Coming!” I called. I grabbed Bianca’s hand and hauled her upstairs.
* * *
We walked into the kitchen, hand in hand. Bianca was tense, and I hated that her first meeting with my dads went to hell. I knew they’d rally though.
Dad had worked some magic in a short time. There was a vase of fresh flowers on the table from who knew where, along with a big bowl of fruit, a massive stack of waffles, and platter of scrambled eggs. As we hit the kitchen, Pop was carrying over a plate of bacon, one strip hanging out of his mouth.
They’d both gotten dressed—Pop in jeans and a flannel and Dad in a pair of sweats with a loose long-sleeved shirt.
Dad immediately rushed over to Bianca, shoving a steaming mug of coffee at her. “Welcome, sweetheart!” Oh God, he was pouring it on thick. I made eye contact with Pop, who gave me a stern look that said, Let him be. I rolled my eyes but held my tongue as Dad fussed.
FALSE 9: Red Card Series Page 17