Underside of Courage (Beautifully Disturbed Series Book 2)

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Enough.” He surprises me by grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

  Um. Holy hell.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing. Yes I do. I need a coffee, and you need to meet the fam. Ben should be there. I want you two to be friends. And you haven’t met Errol or Sabrina yet. Not officially. Zena and Garret might be there depending on schedules. Kelly probably won’t be. She’s Elle’s roommate.”

  Kelly? I scratch at my chin, trying to place her. Her name doesn’t ring a bell. She’d have to be from the New Year’s party.

  “The slobbering drunk.” Collin pulls the door open, holding it for me to go inside first. “Movie star pretty. Blonde. Boobs hanging out.”

  Ah. I remember her now.

  “We really only put up with her for Elle’s sake. Kelly’s pretty high maintenance.” Once the door swing shut behind him, he unzips his jacket. It feels like the passing of a torch or something, the way we’ve put the heavy behind us for now. We’re ready to move on to a new leg in our journey.

  His friends, of course, are the loudest in the room. We both swing our heads around to watch them for a minute, to gauge who all is sitting at the booth. And the direction of their conversation.

  “How do you think they’ll react?” I don’t know where they come from, but my nerves start to kick in.

  We have to step out of the way for another couple of people who walk through the door.

  “To?”

  To? Gee, I don’t know.

  “Me,” I say, sarcastically. “It’s one thing to have a gay friend, it’s another to have his gayness flaunted in your face.”

  Collin pins me with a look. “My gayness? Really, Kip?” Maybe because we’re at The Brew, which is really an extension of the campus, he feels comfortable enough to reach down to snag my hand again.

  “What’s happening here?” I ask. Jesus, the man can be a confusing pain in the ass.

  “I’ve decided to flaunt my gayness.” He then leads us over to where his friends are sitting. But before we reach them, he slows us down so we can talk. “They’re my biggest supporters, Kip. And you’re not just a guy. You’re more. I told you, I want to introduce you as more.”

  Chapter 10

  Collin

  Only Ben, Errol and Sabrina sit at our table in the back of the store, cut off by a coffee display and a large potted plant. We like to think of it as V.I.P. seating, even if there are three tables, each with the capacity to seat five people, surrounding us at any given time, and we’re in the direct line of sight from the front door.

  Truth be told, I’m kind of relieved only those three are here today. Zena and Garret are great, but Ben, Errol and Sabrina are the people, the opinions most important to everything in my life. Theirs’ and Elle’s, but we already got hers.

  I wish she was here with us.

  She should be.

  Kip’s hand squeezes harder in mine, cutting off enough circulation my hand tingles that pins and needles tingle. He’s nervous. Kip never gets nervous, well, except for the Elle test. But he passed that without stumbling. So talking to these three should be a walk along the beach on a sunny day. That is, easy and effortless.

  “Don’t worry.” It doesn’t matter that I try to send him my confidence. He’s secure with who he is, but meeting the friends, these people are my family. I know it’s a huge deal.

  Ben sees us, standing first to pat Kip’s shoulder with one hand and taking the other to shake. “Kip, good to see you, man.”

  With that one ice breaker, Kip’s grip loosens enough to give my hand some blood flow again.

  “Col, brother. How’d it go? You find her?”

  “Exactly where you told us to look.”

  He turns back to Kip. “You pass?”

  I look to Ben. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  At the same time, Kip eases out a long breath through a smile. “Yes. She’s awesome isn’t she?”

  “She’s going to be mine,” he says low for only the three of us to hear.

  “Wow, Collin.” Bri stands next. All smiles, showing off a rare low-key excitement. “You brought me a present?”

  Kip’s cheeks and chin flush to an adorable shade of pink over his olive skin.

  “Sorry Sweetheart, this present is all mine.”

  And his cheeks and chin flush an even darker shade of pink.

  “Then you should have brought me brownies,” she says back with a shoulder shrug while turning to him. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Sabrina bypasses the handshake, going straight for the hug. That thick, black ponytail of hers hits him in the face and neck, as it swings whenever she moves. “I’m Sabrina. But feel free to call me Bri. All my friends do.”

  Finally Errol stands, pulling the exotic beauty, Sabrina, his as head-over-heels in love with him as he is with her girlfriend, tight against his chest in a one armed hug. Although he opts for the handshake, Errol follows Sabrina’s lead. “I’m Errol” he tells Kip. “We’re all really glad to meet you. Get coffee, then come have a seat.”

  I watch Kip as he eyes Errol, more specifically, his strong arms and tats covering most of his skin which start to show from where the sleeves of his T-shirt end. That thick head of blue/black hair and glasses. Errol and I couldn’t look more different, but the man is hot. No, that’s not right. He’s scorchingly hot.

  All that he is equals out to a man you want to pay attention to. Though, once Kip gets his fill of looking, probably because I give his hand a gentle tug, he turns around to head for the order line. The nerves from earlier seem to have evaporated.

  Until Errol, the jackass, calls out, “Awesome. New guy’s buying.”

  My poor boyfriend. Shit, I like using that word. He stops short, turning back to face me with a look of utter terror.

  “I can’t buy everyone’s coffee,” he leans in, whispering. “You know I don’t have the money for that many coffees.”

  There’s a moment when a look passes between me and Kip, and I want to kill Errol, passing that look over to him.

  “Was kidding, new guy.” Errol calls out over the rising din of more patrons coming in to escape the cold. “We all already have ours. Was just pulling your chain.”

  “I knew that.”

  “No you didn’t. But you’ll learn. The longer you’re with us, you’ll definitely learn.”

  ***

  From the meeting at the coffee house onward, we never stop touching in some form. Even as little as a pinky brush, or a shoulder squeeze, anything. Kip is more than just demonstrative, he’s determined to touch me in public like he’s determined to fix me, to get me to be comfortable in my own skin. Since we’ve stuck to places on or around campus it’s been okay so far.

  And now that it’s Friday, Ben will be putting his ‘Win Elle Dinninger’ plan into action, taking off to Chicago with she and Kelly for Pop Fest. Ben’s positive this will be his weekend, the weekend Elle becomes his woman.

  Come hell or high water.

  I know how long he’s been in love with her, and I’ve told him to just go for it countless times.

  But that was before I thought he actually would. Now I’m scared we’ll lose her before they get back home.

  Kip asked to take me out tonight. He said, “To have a little fun, to celebrate our new relationship status.” I know his real motivations. To calm my nerves and help me forget about Ben and Elle.

  He invites me back to his place so he can change. Bri’s beautiful inside and out, but when she gets going with those animated Puerto Rican hands, watch out. Poor Kip ended up wearing Chai Latte all down the front of him.

  Only one of his roommates is home. She has Tegan and Sara blasting in the background when we walk in.

  “God, could you be any more of a stereotype?” He teases her, having to yell loudly to do it, when he pulls me by the hand further inside the warehouse turned apartment.

  The place is all exposed pipes and block walls open so each “room” flows int
o the next without any separations or partitions. With the exception of the bathroom, which thankfully, whatever contractor made the conversion made an actual separate room for. Even the sleeping areas only close off from Shoji screens.

  She turns the music down and doesn’t miss a beat.

  “Yeah, you walk around looking all American Eagle Outfitters, and I’m the stereotype? Whatever. Who’s the hottie?” She points at me with her chin, changing subjects seamlessly.

  Kip cocks an eyebrow her way.

  “What?” she asks, hand thrown over her heart in mock offendedness. “I’m secure enough in myself that I can admit when a man is hot.”

  “She’s a lesbian,” he offers.

  “I got that.”

  “This is my boyfriend, Collin.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you Collin the boyfriend. Since you’ve disrupted my me time, I’m heading for coffee. Check you later.” She closes out her music, picks up her keys from the kitchen counter to shove in her pocket, and leaves us alone.

  “Which is yours?” I ask, pointing to the Shoji screens.

  Kip pushes up on the bottom of my hand moving my finger to point up.

  “The only room upstairs. In the loft.”

  He unbuttons his white shirt while walking toward a steep set of metal spiral stairs in the corner. The shirt comes off before he reaches the steps and the undershirt is gone before he gets halfway up. Kip really is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. When he turns his brilliant, megawatt smile on me, I’m lost. I’m star struck. His smile, just for me.

  My head and feet finally connect with what I think the smile means, and I jog to catch up.

  Kip sits on the edge of his bed, not even attempting to put on a shirt, when I reach the landing at the top of the stairs.

  His room, although sparse of furniture, feels like the Kip I know. Simple pewter gray comforter (same as mine) covers his full size bed. Clean. Framed photographs of men and women of varying ages, with Kip’s eyes and hair color, and most of them have the same olive skin. Though, a few are paler. I’m sure they’re his family. Brothers and sisters, children, most likely nieces and nephews.

  One picture has him standing between a man and a woman, one arm slung around each of their shoulders. He’s wearing a navy blue cap and gown, gold honor society cords hanging around his neck. It has to be his high school graduation. The man has Kip’s height and coloring (now I know where the olive skin comes from), and the woman, his face.

  His parents.

  Seeing them, their proud, happy faces, the space feels too private now. Like I’m an interloper invading it. Like I shouldn’t be in such a sacred place. Like they know what’s about to happen in this room, with their son, and are judging me.

  Kip’s not judging me.

  “Come here,” he says. Reaching his hand out to tug me to him, until I fall. Kip catches me, spinning me to face him as he pulls me onto his lap. My thighs straddle his. I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on.

  Please Mr. and Mrs. Daniels, don’t judge me for what’s about to happen with Kip.

  I can’t help myself. The way he affects me, only one other person has had that power. I’m so scared for Kip. Bad things happen around me. Jocks tried to kill me. A lover died trying to get to me. Skidding on the ice. But he wouldn’t have been speeding if he hadn’t been coming for me. If his father hadn’t been so hateful toward us, how we are, our love. If I hadn’t run away.

  I shouldn’t let this happen. At the same time, I can’t stay away from him either. Because how can something which feels so good and happy and right not be?

  “We’re not wrong,” I whisper. A statement. A statement referring to a distant conversation, only I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But there it is.

  “No, Col. We’re not wrong.” He leans his forehead to rest against mine, closing his eyes, sucking in a breath. Then he kisses me. Holding my cheek and the back of my neck.

  Nothing in my life feels as innocent, yet as profound as when his lips touch mine. It’s like they were made to kiss only my lips. The way he fits, the way we fit.

  “I want you.” Okay. Wow. Shit. I put it out there. I know he knows it already. But I’ve pushed it off because he’s Kip. My Kip. And he scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

  His eyes flame with longing and anticipation, searching mine, and his arms hold me a little tighter. When I nod, he leans over, flipping us around, laying us down until my back hits the mattress, never leaving the kiss he’s resumed.

  Kip holds his weight on his arms. I’m not a virgin. Haven’t been one for a long time now, but he makes me feel like one. Awkward and unsure. I want to be everything he needs me to be. And I’m not so sure I can live up to the hype.

  His hands on my shirt, I realize he’s pushing it up my chest. I lean up for him to pull it up over my head and lay back again. Kip undoes all the rules I’ve set in place for myself, to keep me safe. And he does it without any second thoughts on my part.

  Men don’t undress me. I won’t let them. Not even Kip. It’s too personal, too intimate. It goes along with sleeping next to someone. Men don’t need to undress me to hook up. Christ, they hardly need to touch me. I haven’t allowed another person to undress me since Andrew died.

  What Kip does with his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Slowly his mouth moves a trail from my lips, across my jaw to my chin, and over the skin there to drop to my Adam’s apple, where he spends a little time using his tongue as much as his lips.

  He proved himself before. And I thought before had been the best I’d ever had.

  I was wrong then.

  As he brings his hands up, preceding his lip touches, switching between whole hands and finger touches, to rub down each pectoral muscle. Sucking in, biting and scraping his teeth over each nipple, I realize just how wrong.

  Because as his lips move, my heart swells.

  There’s a hardness, a solidity to his body pressed against mine that I could get used to.

  Andrew used to have that same solidity.

  I wasn’t supposed to like it then. Probably shouldn’t like it now, but I can’t help to.

  Worse, I don’t know if I want to help to.

  None of that matters in here, though. In here, for once, Andrew doesn’t factor. My parents, the hockey jocks, Andrew’s dad, none of them factor.

  My stomach clenches and I begin to shake.

  Andrew is always supposed to factor. Isn’t he? This is too much. This is… Kip registers my panic. I know he does by the way he rolls next to me, bent elbow to the bed, he rests his head on his hand.

  Then Kip swipes the bangs from my face. Tenderly. Real, true emotion for me showing through those beautiful hazel eyes aimed at me. Momentarily taken aback, I kind of forget the panic.

  “You are so sexy, Collin Pratt. How did I get so lucky?”

  His words do exactly what I need them to do, that is, to pull back on the intensity of the situation. There’s no way I’ll make it through tonight otherwise.

  “You’re lucky because I’m sexy?” I take the boon he’s offered.

  His rumbling laugh fills me. Fills my soul.

  “Do you want to stop?” he asks. No accusation to his voice.

  Men don’t stop. When we get to this point, they take what they want. They always take what they want. But Kip is willing to stop?

  I shake my head. “No.”

  And I realize how true that is. Hell no I don’t want to stop. And I don’t want it to only be his laugh filling me. For the first time in years, what I feel, the need to be filled, is more than impulse. More than just a quick feel good to get off.

  It’s what couples from the beginning of existence have shared. The need to be as close to another person as humanly possible. Human nature at its purest. And I want it. With Kip.

  “Thank fuck, because I want you, Col. I want you so damn bad—ly. So damn badly. Don’t tell Elle I slipped up.” He’s so close, his laugh tickles against my skin.

  That
’s when I swallow hard, then look him directly in the eyes and nod only once to let him know I’m ready. The way I take his mouth, I do it with purpose. To burn myself, all of myself onto those lips, and if I’m being honest, his soul. Just the way he’s done to me.

  When I pull back, he stares at me. I stare at him. And then I whisper, “So have me.”

  Chapter 11

  Kip

  He doesn’t need to invite me twice.

  We move from a spark to a raging inferno like we’d been sprayed by the world’s supply of lighter fluid. I go in for another kiss. A kiss to let him know how happy being here right now makes me. One that communicates just how badly I don’t want him to regret giving himself to me.

  Collin groans out the sexiest noise from the back of his throat, at the same time I feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten by reflex, pushed up against mine. So I know it’s time to make my move and flick the button of his jeans then tug at the zip.

  He grips my shoulders as I push up from his mouth.

  “Stay,” he whispers.

  I’m glad he likes my kisses, but I’ve got other ways for us to make happy memories, and I don’t want to delay in doing that.

  My fingers peel back the jeans down to his hips. He’s gone commando.

  He never told me. And by god is he beautiful, fucking, fucking beautiful. I need to get my mouth on him.

  So I do, tracing the line of thick vein that had been hiding under his jeans. From there, one slight turn of my head is all it takes to find him, this time, with my mouth and my hand.

  Collin’s muscles constrict again and he shoots up, partially sitting. I look to his face. His mouth is open, though he’s not making a sound.

  So I know he’s ready for me.

  We use the necessary supplies from my bedside table and then, ass in the air, I’m moving inside him. I give it to him slow. Damn is he tight. But dammit even more if he doesn’t feel perfect.

  The further I bury myself inside him, the further he buries himself inside me, my heart. If I didn’t know it before, I definitely know it now.

  I’m in love with this man. I’m so fucking in love with him.