I nod. "You ruined me for all others."
"That's the way it better be. Got it, woman?!" His brown eyes shine with playfulness as he sweeps me up in his arms and carries me over to the bed. The familiar swirling in my belly starts up when I think of what's going to happen in the next few minutes. Instead he sits me down, and takes a seat next to me. Brayden reaches underneath the bed and pulls from it a flat clothing box wrapped in shiny, red paper. I hesitate wondering if he bought sexy lingerie for me to wear. Those things are so intimidating with all the buckles and clasps, not to mention the parts they accentuate. I don't want to make a fool out of myself. I just hope that's not what's in there. I meet his stare, nervous. My hands start to tremble again.
"Go on, open it." He nudges me playfully with his shoulder.
I turn the box on its side and slide my thumb under a piece of tape.
"Come on, just rip it open!" he orders.
I do as I'm told and have no idea what to expect when I pull the top of the box open. It's a football jersey. It looks just like Brayden's. It's red and black, our school colors.
"Your jersey?" I ask.
"No. Your jersey. Take it out."
I lift it up and turn it around to see if it has Brayden's name and number on the back. Instead it reads:
Turner
loves
Green
"I love it!"
"Oh yeah?" His hands are resting on my hips. "Then can you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"Go take this off," he tugs on my cami, "and model it for me. I want to see how good it looks on you."
I smile at him. It may not be sexy lingerie, but I can certainly handle putting on a football jersey. "Okay, I'll be right back."
I waste no time changing into my new jersey. I take a quick look in the mirror. It looks cute, not exactly the look I was going for when I left my house. I reach into my pocket, pull out a hair tie and gather my long, brown hair up in a ponytail. I might not look sexy and goddess like, but I'll do all I can to embrace and enhance the cuteness.
I take a deep breath outside Brayden's room. This is it. I know it is. Everything is about to change. I'm going to cross over some invisible boundary. My heart is racing, my hands trembling. My face is burning hot. I close my eyes and tell myself to just go with it. I don't want to think and overanalyze; I don't want to worry or let fear into my heart. I just want to enjoy this.
Brayden looks like he hasn't moved. I wonder if it's possible that he's as nervous as I am? While he admits to messing around with a lot of girls, he claims he only had sex with two. I don't know who they are. The first one he hooked up with when the football team went to Florida on spring break last year, and the other lived in a neighboring town before she moved to Pennsylvania over the summer. He promises he doesn't keep in touch with them, not even on Facebook or Instagram. That helps ease my anxiety a bit. While I feel a little less insecure, I don't want to be just some random girl he sleeps with. These are exactly the kind of thoughts I don't want running through my head. Not now.
As long as it's not my sister or Alana, I tell myself I can deal. It's not about who he was with before, but who he's with from here on out. Still I hope that somehow, someway this will be the time he remembers with all the details when he's old and gray. The one that holds all the special meaning for him.
Brayden stands and meets me half way across the room. "It fits perfect."
I spin around, chest out, hand on my hip, showing it off from all angles.
"You look so beautiful."
"Thank you." I lick my bottom lip.
He dips his head down and kisses it. "Are you scared?" he whispers. I almost hear the crackling of the flames between us.
"A little."
"I promise I'll be gentle." His hands move up and down my arms, and I lean into him.
"I know," I giggle like an idiot. "I'm sorry," I shrug.
He pulls back and with a steady gaze looks me in the eye. "Don't be sorry. We don't have to do this."
I concentrate on pulling myself together. "I want to." Feeling the need to prove my words, my unsteady fingers move to the button on my jeans. I take a deep breath and without moving my eyes from his, I step out of them. Brayden's eyes fall below my waist and lick my skin like a burning hot flame.
I reach for the button on his pants. He smiles as his hands take hold of mine. "Promise me something?" I can't imagine what he could want me to promise at a time like this. That I won't fake it? I give him a questioning look. "I know this is a huge step for you, just promise you won't run away from me."
I bite down the urge to ask why I would do that, but promise instead. "Is this why you've been acting so weird today? You're afraid I'm just using you for sex?" I tease feeling relief sweep over me.
"That's right, I've seen you undressing me with your eyes. I know you want me for my body."
"Do I ever!" I wiggle my eyebrows at him and lift his shirt off.
Brayden turns from me and heads over to his dresser. He reaches in the top draw and rummages around, pulling from it a closed box of condoms.
"You mean you don't carry one in your wallet?"
He smirks. "I do, but it's so old I don't trust it. I'd have to be pretty desperate to use it." He takes a small square from the box and tosses it on the bed.
"Then why . . ."
"My grandmother. She gave it to me on my twelfth birthday. Made me promise to keep it there."
"You were twelve?"
Panic settles into my voice. Twelve? What the hell was he doing at that age that his grandmother thought giving him a condom was appropriate? I'm nervous again and not buying his "There were only two girls before you" story.
"If it makes you feel any better," he leans over and kisses my neck, his tongue swirling in tiny circles, making me forget I'm upset. His warm hands are on my back under the jersey, gliding over my skin. "I didn't even know what they were for," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. My bra is unclasped. I wonder if he can hear how loud my heart is beating. I bring my hands up to his chest. "I thought they were water balloons." He slips his hand through the sleeve and pulls the strap down, off my arm, leaving a tingling trail on my skin. His other hand is already doing the same on the other side. "And if I even had a clue you were coming into my life, I would've waited." His hands rest for a a moment on my hips before he wraps his arms around my waist and crushes my body against his. His mouth meets mine for another deep, demanding kiss, and I'm lost.
I want him.
I need him.
Nothing else matters.
He breaks away once more, his forehead leaning against mine, "Ready?"
I can't speak, instead I reach my hand down and grab the bulge between his legs. I can only look up and nod. I am ready. I've been ready for a while, and I can feel how ready he is. He leads me to the bed and lies down beside me.
"Kenzie, I want you to be comfortable with my body. I want you to touch me, everywhere."
My entire body trembles, and I'm afraid to move. I'm not sure what he wants me to do. He lifts my hand and covering it with his own, he brings it up to his face, and slides it down his neck, over his chest, down his center, following the trail of hair that leads straight down, all the way down, between his legs.
"Your hands are so soft, I love when you touch me." He pushes himself up onto his elbow. "Now its my turn."
I swallow hard anticipating his touch and the moment the pulsing need I feel throbbing inside me is satisfied. Just like he did on himself, his hand starts on the side of my face and slowly travels down. He holds my chin for a moment and meets my lips as his hand skims over my neck and down to my breasts. He visits each nipple with his thumb and forefinger tweaking them before continuing his journey. At their final destination, Brayden slips his fingers between my legs and inside me, one at a time. I wish he'd stop torturing me.
"I'm honored to be your first," he whispers as he climbs on top of me.
He hesitates, and I'm not sure why, di
d I do something wrong? Did he change his mind?
He takes a deep breath, and I start to feel pressure down below. He's not changing his mind, he's taking it slow. I gasp and hold him tight as the pressure turns to pain.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" He brushes his hand down the side of my face.
Afraid he might pull away, instinctively I tilt my hips towards him, and hold him tight. I shake my head.
"No."
I don't want him to stop. I want this moment to last forever.
*
Resting the bulk of his weight on his forearms, Brayden smoothes my hair and kisses my cheek. He leaves a trail of kisses on my damp, overheated skin from my mouth, across my jaw, down my neck.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks as he leans back and looks at me.
"Better than okay." I let my hand run down his back, tracing the cord of muscles protecting his spine. "That was incredible."
"Did it hurt a lot?" He continues to leave soft kisses on my nose, and forehead. I feel his heartbeat still pounding fast and furious against my chest.
"In the beginning."
"I'm sorry." There's such tenderness in his eyes, it makes me want to devour him like a piece of sweet chocolate. If only.
I thought I'd be too nervous to meet his stare, but I'm not. I'm not nervous or self-conscious at all. What I feel is . . . Loved. I think I understand what people mean when they talk about the difference between having sex and making love. This is definitely making love. That's what makes it special. I can feel the love, like its a physical object, something tangible that I can hold in my hands and examine. The love is what makes this one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had. I just wish I could bottle it up to keep safe and carry it with me always.
Brayden rolls onto his side but is still right up against me. I run my pointer finger down his center, from his neck, down his chest, past his bellybutton.
"Ready for round two?" I tease.
"See, I knew you just wanted me for my body." He brushes a piece of hair away from my eyes.
"And what a body it is," I lift the covers and look him over.
"Keep that up and you won’t be joking about round two."
"You say that like it’s a threat."
He smirks and cups my cheek. "Not tonight. Give yourself a chance to recoup."
"Always thinking about me."
"I have to, it's in the job description."
"See that's what makes you the best boyfriend . . . " I cover my mouth.
"What's wrong?" He looks worried as his forehead crinkles and his eyebrows come together.
"I didn't give you your gift."
"You gave me the best gift ever when you gave me your heart."
"Nice try." I give him a peck on the cheek before climbing out of bed and reaching for my clothes.
He groans. "Do you have to get dressed already?"
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Uh, yes. What if you're parents have a nanny cam or something set up in the other room to watch you bad boys when they're not around?"
"Then I'd say we already gave them quite a show before."
"Brayden."
"Fine, get dressed." He rolls on his back, but I still feel the warming power of his stare as his eyes are fixed on me.
I throw my jeans and jersey on and scamper to the front hall where I inadvertently left my other shirt and the gift. It's not as practical as the jersey, but the sentiment is just as grand. Back in his room, Brayden is sitting on the bed shirtless, his pants button undone. I stop a moment and breathe as I take him in. He is gorgeous. I wonder how I resisted him for so long.
"What?" he asks, a smile drawn on his lips.
I shake my head and close the distance between us holding out the red gift bag. "Sometimes when I look at you, I can't believe you're real."
"Oh I'm real," He lunges at me, grabs me around my waist and tosses me on the bed.
"Brayden!"
I can't stop laughing as he attacks me at full force, tickle torturing me.
"See how real I am?" He backs away and I suck in large gulps of oxygen trying to catch my breath. "By the way, that is the best sound ever."
"What, me struggling to breathe?"
"You laughing. Hearing you laugh like that is incredibly sexy."
I raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief, clearly we have different criteria for sexy.
"It is." He leans in and his hand makes its way onto my stomach.
"Hey." I warn. "It's time for you to open your gift." I lift the once again forgotten bag between us.
He reaches in and pulls the cardboard box out. Turning it around in his hands. "I love it. Look at all these straight lines and right angles."
"You're such an idiot."
"It's what you do to me. And for the record, I'll love anything you give me because it’s from you."
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Hug me, squeeze me, and love me every day of your life."
"That's a given. Now can you please open it and see what's inside the box?"
"Oh you mean this isn't the gift?" He opens the box and pulls from it a gold plated trophy. Brayden turns it around before he reads the inscription written on the plate beneath the statue, "Boyfriend of the Year, Brayden Turner."
I know my cheeks are pink. I feel dumb and wonder why I ever thought that was a good idea to begin with. He doesn't speak, just turns the award around in his hands once again, studying the fake, little man on the pedestal. The longer he goes without saying anything, the more certain I am he hates it.
"Wow." The playfulness is gone from his voice. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."
"You like it?"
"I love it. It's my most treasured trophy."
I look up at his shelves boasting the many awards and trophies he's collected and give him a "Yeah right," look.
"It is." He says reading the sarcasm on my face. "And do you want to know why?"
I decide to play along, "Why?"
"The others all came easy. This one I had to work my ass off for."
*
As Brayden fixes the bed sheets, I walk around examining the details of his room. I'm not sure if I'll ever make it back in here. Something on his desk catches my eye. An envelope. I take a closer look and realize it’s not just one envelope, there are a few thick envelopes placed one on top of the other. I know what they are. I pick them up and look at the names of the return addresses in the right hand corner; University of Miami, University of Michigan, University of Tennessee.
Brayden's arms wrap around me. He leans his chest against my back and rests his head on my shoulder next to mine.
"What . . . Oh." He sounds almost as deflated as I feel.
"Why didn't you tell me? You've been accepted to all of these schools?"
He tightens his grip. "I didn't want to upset you. And I don't know where I'm going yet."
I squeeze my eyes closed, grateful he can't see my face. Every one of these schools is far away. As if he can read my mind he turns me around.
"I'm still waiting to hear from Penn State. That's my first choice. That's where I really want to go."
"What about Rutgers?" I hate myself for even asking. I don't want to influence his college choice. I don't ever want him to compromise himself or his future for me. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know I wouldn't do it for him.
He shakes his head, " I applied, but they're not a good fit. They've been grooming a sophomore as next years starting quarterback. I won't really get a shot there until its too late."
"Oh." I can't help the disappointment that trickles out of my lungs and into my voice.
"We'll get through it. I promise."
He doesn't realize I don't want to get through it. I don't want things to change at all, but like so many things in my life, I have no control and no say over what happens. I know this amazing feeling of being loved and cherished will soon be gone. I have no choice but to prepare for the moment the happiness boilin
g up inside me overflows and runs out of steam.
Chapter 8
The Next Step
It's a good thing we took our relationship slow in the beginning because once the cat's out of the bag, and I know all I've been missing out on, I have an insatiable hunger for him. Brayden's no better. We have a hard time keeping our hands off each other.
"You have no idea how bad I want you," he pulls me close and whispers in my ear every time we're together. It doesn't matter if we're in the halls of school, or sitting in the living room. If alone for even a minute, we touch and grope and caress. While the desire is abundant, opportunity isn't.
I know nothing will ever happen in my room; I'm never alone in the house. My mother and sister are almost always home, especially if they know Brayden is coming. Still I try to steal some quiet time with him in my room. I settle for getting lost in kissing Brayden, and delighting in a few forbidden touches. But it never lasts for long.
Each time we find ourselves behind my bedroom door, minutes later brash pounding startles us.
"Hey, Kenzie," Jess calls from the other side of the closed door. "Open up. I have an important question to ask you."
With more attitude then brains I swing the door open. "What do you want?"
Her answer is always something ridiculous, something insignificant that could have waited.
"I need a stamp, you have any?"
Stamps? Really? She knows I don't mail letters. Anything I have to say is communicated over email or text messages. Why the hell would she ask me something so stupid? I narrow my eyes at her and don't miss how she looks at Brayden. There's something in her eyes that unsettles me. She's looking him over from head to toe and I can't tell if she's interested in him or if she's angry with him.
"I don't have stamps, go ask Mom."
"Mm hmm. You're awfully quiet, Brayden. I didn't interrupt anything did I?"
"Nope. It's all good," he answers back.
"You know the rules, Sis. The door stays open."
I can see the gleam in her eyes and the smile playing at the corner of her lips and I wonder if she gets off on being evil, or if it's knowing she broke up an intimate moment that has her looking so satisfied.
"You suck, Jess. Get out of here." I push her out and shut the door.
Regret Me Not Page 7