Drumline

by Stacy Kestwick

  I looped my arms loosely around her waist, and when she shifted to run her fingers through my hair, I could almost pretend that nothing bad had happened.

  That Eli had been discharged home instead of to the morgue, that Reese’s wrist wasn’t still wrapped in a brace, that my own hand didn’t ache from the revenge I’d exacted on Marco’s face two days ago.

  That things were right between us, instead of heavy with unsaid words.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.” Maybe it made me a pussy to admit it, but lying had fucked things up between us once. I’d never lie to this girl again, by omission or otherwise.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” I saw her start to speak again, her eyebrows pulled down tight in a frown, so I amended my answer. “Not yet. I just… fuck. I just want to stay here in the dark with you and forget about all the bad stuff. Can we do that? Just a little longer?”

  Her eyes searched mine in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the blinds. I held her gaze, let her see all the naked pain that I felt inside.

  When she nodded, it felt better than winning the lottery.

  I sunk back into the couch cushions, content just to have her here with me.

  To not be alone.

  Her nails scraped against my scalp, and I closed my eyes, turning into her touch and groaning softly.

  She continued her ministrations, smoothing her hands over my head over and over, until slowly, achingly slowly, my nerve endings began to tingle from the attention.

  When her nails dragged through my short strands again, I stifled a moan, but couldn’t stop my dick from stirring to life beneath her lap.

  It was wrong, so fucking wrong, to be aroused at a time like this, but she was warm, and in my lap, and touching the edge of my face and the tender skin at the nape of my neck like she still cared deep down inside. Like despite all the wreckage of my life in the last week, a tiny part of her still belonged to me.

  She traced around the edge of my ear, and I pressed my lips together at the sweet torment, trying to tamp down the sensation. But when she shifted in my lap, it was too much for my dick. He pulsed against the sweet curve of her ass, and from the way she stilled her motions, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

  Reese was only trying to comfort me, not turn me on, and I was fucking twisted to be getting off on it.

  “Laird?”

  My hips bucked at the husky sound of my name coming from her full lips as they hovered just out of reach.

  “I’m sorry.” I sounded strained. “This isn’t what you came for, I know that, and I’m sorry. But you’ll never feel anything but right in my arms, and my stupid dick is just a little bit confused right now.”

  Reese wiggled again, and I bit back a curse, my hands clamping down on her hips to hold her still.

  “That’s not helping,” I bit out.

  My hard length throbbed between us, and I willed it to calm down.

  And I thought I just might win the battle until she raised up and turned so she was full on straddling me, her knees tucked along-side my hips, and her hands resting on my shoulders for balance.

  I groaned when I felt the heat of her through her shorts.

  She licked her lips, leaving them a little shiny in the moonglow.

  “Let’s forget, Laird. Like you said. Let’s just stay in the dark and forget a little longer.”

  And then before I could draw another breath, she reached down and whipped her sweatshirt off.

  Reese

  He stared at the black lace pushing up my breasts, then slowly lifted his eyes to mine.

  “You need to be sure,” he said each word deliberately. “You need to be sure, because I can’t resist you on my best day, and this… this is far from my best day.”

  His hands dug into my hips, like he was holding himself back from touching me until I gave him the word.

  In a single deft move, I reached down and cupped his hard dick, stroking it softly in my hand.

  “Fucking hell, Reese.” He growled, and I barely had time to lock my legs around his waist before he carried me the short distance to his bedroom.

  After yanking the blankets off, he laid me carefully in the center of the bed, then hovered over me, his hands on either side of my head and his knees bracketing my thighs.

  “This isn’t going to be some sweet, gentle lovemaking, Reese. I need you too much. I need to feel you squeezing every long, hard inch of me deep inside you until that’s the only thing I fucking feel. Until my universe begins and ends between your thighs. Until I fucking feel alive again.” He dragged one finger down my throat, through the valley of my cleavage, until it curled into the dip of my bra. Then he raised an eyebrow, as if offering me one last chance to change my mind.

  “Waiting for an invitation again?” I plucked the hair tie from my bun and shook my head, letting my hair fall wildly around me.

  His eyes darkened to emerald green, and he leaned down to capture my mouth, his hands working together to tear my bra off at the same time.

  The kiss was raw, all teeth, tongue, and reckless angles. He fisted the hair at the back of my head, holding me in place as he attacked my mouth with a desperation that brought tears to my eyes and a rush of dampness between my legs.

  He took everything I had to offer and demanded more, claiming my lips over and over, until I was drunk on his taste. Until the imprint of his mouth was seared on mine.

  Somewhere along the way, the rest of my clothes disappeared, my attention distracted by the scratch of his stubble along my cheek and the hot promises he whispered in my ear.

  “You’re fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, Reese? If I touched you right now—”

  His finger traced an achingly slow path up my seam, delving into the heat at my core.

  “It’s your fault,” I panted. “I need—”

  I bucked my hips, trying to keep his finger in my slick channel.

  “You need me.” And it sounded like a vow.

  Then his mouth was right there, those clever lips closing around my clit and sucking hard, while he pumped his hand inside me, adding a second finger, then a third.

  Even though he’d warned me, I didn’t know pleasure could build this fast, this steep, this quick.

  His free hand pushed my thighs up and out, spreading me wider for his erotic assault.

  Bolt after bolt of electricity shot down my spine, and I raised my hips higher for more, more, more of his demanding touch.

  I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t speak. One of my hands fisted the sheet near my hip, and the other clawed at his shoulder, pushing him away, pulling him closer, trying to prolong the inevitable and chase the explosion all at once.

  And when he curled those beautiful, talented fingers of his, finding that special spot along my front wall, things like gravity and death and truth seemed so insignificant. So tiny in comparison to the sonic boom of pleasure he’d just unleashed on me.

  I was still blinking in a languorous daze when he entered me in one hard push, burying himself to the root.

  My eyes shot to his, my parted lips hanging open soundlessly, as he set a punishing rhythm above me.

  “My mom left a year after Garrett died. Physically, she left I mean. Emotionally, she died when he did.”

  His hand grabbed my thigh, lifted it around his waist, and my boobs jiggled between us from the force of his thrusts.

  “My dad blamed me. For everything. For Garrett’s death. For Mom leaving. For business deals that fell through and shitty weather and the mailman being late. I’ll never be good enough, never compare to the legend of Garrett, the golden son who died too young.”

  Laird rotated his hips on the downstroke, rubbing his pubic bone against my sensitive clit.

  It was hard to focus on his words, to absorb the horror of his childhood in the midst of the hot tension that was already building between my thighs again.

  “And Marco. That fucking prick hurt you. He hurt you and I did
n’t even know because you’re so fucking strong, so fucking stubborn and I get that, Jesus Christ knows I get that, but to find out later? After the fact? It’d hurt less to get shot, Reese.”

  He dipped his hand between our slick bodies, circled his thumb on that perfect spot so softly. The contrast between the gentleness of his hand and the ferocity of his cock made me rake my nails down his back until he arched and groaned and drove into me even harder, even faster. I reveled in his response, that I made him as crazy as he made me.

  “I spent hours going through the security tapes. I found the first time he tripped you on the curb during band camp. Yeah, I watched the tapes back that far. And I found the one from the night in the stadium. Watched him stare at you on the ground, crumpled and bleeding. Watched him pat your head and then walk away. Watched the video of him leaving out of the tunnel, not even looking back.”

  He pinched my clit suddenly, and the euphoria erupted again, more intense this time, if that was possible.

  But he didn’t stop. He buried himself in me over and over, relentlessly, refusing to let go.

  Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized he was punishing himself, refusing to let himself come until he finished confessing to me.

  My mouth was dry, but I reached up to cup his face, to bend my fingers behind his neck and force his tormented gaze to mine.

  He pressed his cheek into my palm, but never slowed.

  My thighs ached as he pressed closer, thrust harder, his motions becoming more erratic.

  “I turned the videos in. To the band director, to the athletic director, to the dean of the whole fucking school. I sent copies to anyone I thought might help me. They expelled him for breaking the moral and ethical code of Rodner University. And after he got the news that he’d destroyed his future, I broke his fucking pretty boy nose.”

  I gasped, and Laird pulled my other thigh around his waist, until I locked my ankles behind his back. With each drive of his hips, he lifted both of us off the mattress.

  “And… and Eli.” His eyes were damp, but I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears or both or maybe just my eyes watering so badly that he looked blurry. “I was going to be alone on Thanksgiving, you know? Dad hates me, Mom left, Garrett’s dead, you were gone. I went to see Eli, to see what time he was eating so I could come and keep him company tomorrow. And his room was fucking empty, Reese. Martha was there putting fresh sheets on the bed, and I thought maybe he’d been discharged early, but then she told me he fucking died. Some fluke reaction to the same chemo he’d gone through a dozen other times. He died and I never even said goodbye. Never told him I loved him. Never got to—”

  His voice broke off, and he shook his head before burying his face in the crook of my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Reese. I’m so fucking sorry. I failed you, failed everyone. I’m so damn sorry…”

  I tangled one hand in his hair, and wrapped the other around his back, crying from his pain, wanting to absorb it into myself and take it away from him.

  He sucked my earlobe, his breath hot and fast against my neck, and his hips changed tactics, switched to short, quick drives, his ass flexing beneath my heels, his pelvis doing a drumroll on my clit.

  Finally, finally I found my voice.

  “Laird.”

  I chanted his name, whispered it against his forehead, shouted it at the moon, felt it vibrate through every cell of my body.

  And when my body tightened up again, impossibly finding another release, he finally let go, pulling out and pumping his cock furiously with his fist until he erupted in hot spurts on my stomach, marking me as his.

  Laird

  Reese was quiet.

  She was quiet while I started the shower.

  While I lathered her hair, soaped her perfect curves, and rinsed the suds down the drain.

  While I scrubbed myself quickly, keeping her under the warm spray, being careful not to bump the kaleidoscope of bruises on her wrist.

  But when she went to twist the knob to turn the water off, I stopped her, snagging her hand and turning her to face me.

  “Talk to me. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough earlier?”

  She blinked in surprise, tiny beads of water clinging to her lashes. “No. Not in the bed.”

  But the way she qualified her answer gave me pause.

  “Before? About Garrett?”

  I leaned back against the tile wall, and caught her waist, tugging her forward to stand between my legs. Despite the reservation in her words, she wasn’t pulling away, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from taking every opportunity to touch her in some way. To feel the silk of her skin against me.

  My thumbs rubbed soothing patterns over the soft points of her hips.

  She nodded, that little furrow appearing between her brows. “It wasn’t just that you hadn’t told me. It’s that everyone else already knew that day. I felt humiliated when Marco mocked me, and you just ran off and left me to fend for myself.” Reese crossed her arms over her chest, forcing some unwanted distance between us. “And then, when you didn’t want to talk afterward…” She trailed off and dipped her chin.

  “Then?” I prompted, bending my knees to catch her eyes.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “It just felt like you didn’t care. Like I wasn’t a priority.”

  Her words hit like buckshot, the impact sharp and widespread, leaving me reeling.

  “Reese, no.” I shook my head to deny her words, my fingers digging into her skin. “Never.”

  Her gaze flitted between my eyes, and I pleaded with her silently to believe me, to trust me even though I’d let her down. Long moments passed, and then she bit her lip, giving me a slight nod.

  Loosening her protective stance, she traced the inked G on my chest with a featherlight touch, and sighed wistfully. “I wish I could’ve met him.”

  “I do, too.” A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow. “He would’ve liked you. The two of you would’ve ganged up on me.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Yeah?”

  I nodded, drawing her closer, needing to feel her solidness against me if we were going to talk about him like this. Squeezing my eyes closed, I rested my forehead on hers. “I could take you to his grave.” I waited for the familiar wave of anguish that hit whenever I said that word—grave. “If you want? I think… I think I’d like that. No one’s ever gone with me before.”

  “No one?” Her voice sharpened with disbelief.

  “Not since the funeral.”

  A sound of disapproval hummed from her throat, then she slid her arms around my waist, and for a long moment, we just held each other. “I’d be honored.”

  The hot water sprayed against our legs, and steam billowed around us. It’d be easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist outside the foggy bathroom, to stay in here forever.

  “I have to ask you—it’s been making me crazy. Did you know? Have you been lying to me about the scholarship too?” Her words were hesitant, unsure.

  “What scholarship?” I tilted my head.

  “The one for your brother. The Garrett Bronson scholarship.”

  I paused, trying to understand her question. “What about it?”

  She tapped her fingertips on my lower back, but I’m not even sure she realized she was doing it.

  “I’m this year’s winner.”

  “You are?” My brows shot up.

  “You didn’t know? Really?” Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed up at me. “Your brother’s name is on the award and you didn’t know?”

  “No. I mean, you’re right, it is his name, but…” I trailed off for a minute, trying to wrap my head around this other new connection between us. “The money is withdrawn from my account automatically. I used to pick the winners, read all the essays and pore over the applications, but it just got too hard after a while, hearing about these people who’d done all the things that Garrett would never get a chance to do.” The back of my eyes burned, and I blinked furiously. “So now som
e official for the school chooses instead.”

  Reese pressed her lips to my tattoo, the heat from her mouth hotter than the steam around us. “I thought maybe you’d been lying to me about that this whole time too. I didn’t make the connection until I went home this weekend and saw the paperwork again.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m not saying it won’t happen again, because, fuck knows, everything good in my life seems to disappear, but I promise I won’t lie to you. And I promise to always answer any questions you have. Past, present, future—anything you want to know, just ask.”

  I dipped my head and ran my nose up the side of her neck, nuzzling into her, wanting no wasted space between us.

  “I know I fucked up. I didn’t realize it at the time, because I was too caught up in my own shit, but I let you down, and that’s not okay.” I tasted the sensitive spot beneath her ear, felt her shudder in my embrace. “Reese, you make me want to be a better fucking man. Someone you’d be proud to hold hands with in public, to let the world know I was yours.”

  It stung that she didn’t see me that way. Not yet. But I’d fucking earn it if she’d let me.

  “Laird…” My stupid heart tripped over itself when I heard my name. I was so lost to this girl, and I couldn’t come up with a single good reason for keeping it inside any longer.

  At least if we crashed and burned, I’d have given it my all, no regrets.

  I thought of Eli, how sometimes we didn’t have time for second chances, and if we were lucky enough to get them, it’d be stupid as fuck to waste the opportunity.

  And I wasn’t stupid.

  I tipped her chin up, until I knew my face was the only thing she could see. I didn’t want her to miss a single word of my confession, even if it came too late to make a difference. “I love you, Reese Holland. Because you’re feisty and opinionated and so damn strong—the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Because you make me smile every time I see you. Because you challenge me. Because your heart is so big and giving. Because you’re so damn stubborn. Because your courage humbles me.” I ran my finger over her lower lip. “Because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you, and I don’t want to ever stop thinking about you. I want to spend every day finding new ways to make you happy, to have your back while you chase your dreams, and to worship your body the way it deserves. I want to make you proud of me, to be worthy of standing by your side.”