FIFTEEN
Tracey
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
I can’t believe I told a guy I’ve known for a couple of weeks as much as I did. Even though I’m not ready to tell him the worst part, I’m not sorry I told him this much. It’s incredible how cleansing opening up to someone on a personal level can be. For the first time in a year I can breathe a little easier. Keeping everything locked inside, never talking to anyone about it, is a heavier burden than I realized.
I’m not sure if the expression on Dak’s face is concern, pity, or a little of both. I don’t want his pity. I only want him to understand I’m not ready to open my heart to anyone yet, not ready to get involved. I love the way he makes me feel things I was afraid I would never feel again, but I’m also afraid of those feelings and what they can do to me. Chipping away at the stone walls I’ve built between my past and present has drained me. Exhaustion overtakes me.
“I’m so tired,” I say, breaking the long minutes of silence between us.
“I’ll carry you upstairs again and turn down the covers for you. It’s been a long day,” he says in a soft voice, like he’s afraid I’m going to crumble right in front of him.
I sit up so I can see his beautiful ocean blue eyes. “Do you think we could sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace tonight? I don’t want to leave the warmth of the fire. It’s so soothing.” Also, being next to him is so comforting, though I’m not sure where he wants to go from here, or if he even wants to go anywhere with me after everything I told him.
I know he’s not judging me, but it doesn’t mean he wants to be friends with a girl who has all this emotional baggage. I don’t know what I want right now either. I know I’m not ready for a relationship. It’s too soon for me to trust anyone with a full-on commitment. Yet what I’m feeling for Dak is much different now than it was the first day I crashed into him—or rather, when he crashed into me. The realization he’s become someone I’d like to be friends with shocks me. I want to get to know him better and spend time with him. After everything, he’s…well…pretty wonderful.
“You want both of us to sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace? Like together?” he asks in a tentative voice.
I nod. “Well, like next to each other together.” I bite my bottom lip, something I’m famous for when I’m nervous or thinking too hard.
“Okay, Bambi.” He runs his thumb along my lip to stop me from chewing it off. “I didn’t want to leave you alone anyway. I’ll stay right by your side as long as you want me to. Hey. It’s like the lyrics in our skating song. It’s the perfect song for us.”
He stands up, taking me with him, and presses play on my ITunes app. He steps into an open area of the room and with his hands around my waist spins us both in circles as “You Matter to Me” streams through the air. I don’t know how he manages it. After spewing out the events of the most soul-destroying weeks of my life, I’m giggling in his arms.
He slides me back down along his body onto my feet and I can feel the hard ridge through the soft fabric of his pants. He’s devouring me with the kind of seductive bedroom eyes that could make a nun drop her panties, which is both unnerving and provocative. I want to kiss him, but I already stopped him twice. I’m certain any involvement for me right now would be too soon.
Before I get too far into my perplexing thoughts, Dak lets me go and says in an excited voice like a kid planning a camp out sleepover, “I’ll go upstairs and pull the feather mattress off the bed. You get the pillows and blankets. We’ll do a picnic sleepover right here in front of the fire.”
“A picnic? We just ate dinner.”
“I’ll make us dessert after we set up the bed.”
“I thought we already had dessert.” I glance sideways to the tequila bottle on the coffee table. Its crystal liquid shimmers with an innocent sparkle in the firelight, not revealing the volatile effects it contains. Dak follows my gaze.
“No.” He walks over and picks up the bottle from the table. “I’m not talking about this shit. No more tequila, ever.” He leaves the room with the bottle and comes back a second later. “Let’s go get the things for the bed.”
He starts moving toward the steps, doing these massive double Axel jumps across the room, jumping, spinning, and landing like Baryshnikov on steroids.
“Holy shit!” I gasp. “You’re good. A lunatic, but good.”
“Come on. Let’s go get the stuff,” he grunts out while spinning in the air. And can I just say there is something so hot about a gorgeous hockey player doing massive athletic jumps and landing with the graceful precision of a ballet dancer?
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” I smile and shake my head. But I walk, because my name isn’t Dakota Andersen and I’m not crazy enough to do double Axels across a room full of furniture.
***
The mattress fortress Dak builds us in front of the fire is so cozy no one would ever guess there’s a derecho raging outside and a few minutes ago the atmosphere inside was oppressive. I’m discovering it’s impossible for anyone to stay mad or sad when around his slightly immature, fun antics.
I’m sitting on our fluffy, cloudlike bed when he comes back in the room carrying two bowls, a big smile across his face.
“No better comfort food than Ben and Jerry’s Rocky Road,” he announces and plops down crossed-leg onto the bed with two bowls overflowing with whipped cream and fudge sauce atop the ice cream. “Not exactly organic, but even Bernard has to allow for comfort food every once in a while. I did whip up real cream though. No fizzy spraying canned crap they claim is real,” he grimaces in disgust. “Milady.” He passes me one of the monster sundaes.
“My prince,” I tease with an over-animated, rapid blinking of my lashes. “I’m not sure I can finish all this.” I’m sure I could if his presence didn’t make my stomach flutter and flip like its own version of a Cirque Du Soleil routine.
“I’ll finish whatever you can’t, but I bet you’ll lick the bowl clean once you taste it.” He shovels a big scoop of the concoction into his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head. “Mmmph almost as orgasmic as my puttanesca sauce.”
I wonder if he’s aware of the way he turns every comment he makes into a sexual innuendo. It’s possible he doesn’t know he oozes sexiness. He slowly drags his tongue over and around his freaking spoon. Yeah. He knows.
The sight of his tongue working his spoon fills my head with thoughts of him drizzling fudge sauce along my body and licking his way down my tits and stomach to the aching spot between my legs to taste what he’s doing to me. I can’t take my eyes off his mouth, and even before I taste the ice cream, I absently lick my lips.
“What do you think? Good, right?” He takes a big scoop from the bowl and licks off the remnants of gooey chocolate left on his spoon, like he doesn’t want to miss a speck. Watching him has heat pooling between my thighs, but he seems to be completely oblivious to what he’s doing to me
“You didn’t try it yet. Oh shit. You don’t like ice cream. I should’ve asked. I’ll make you something else.”
I guess he wasn’t trying to be seductive after all, just innocently enjoying the creamy splendor of the ingredients in his bowl and he wanted me to do the same.
“Not like ice cream! Who doesn’t like ice cream?” I take a heaping spoonful and ladle it into my mouth. “Mmm. You’re right. Climatic,” I sigh and take another spoonful.
“I know. Right?” He polishes off his sundae and I continue to savor every spoonful of mine. No problem eating the whole thing after all.
“So, Bambi…” He’s back to his teasing tone. I love the way he can change even the harshest situations to a light and playful mood. “I don’t want to bring up all that garbage again, but I need to know.”
“Need to know what?” I give him a sideways glance, because I don’t want to talk about any of the garbage anymore either. We’re having fun again and I want to keep it this way.
“You remember how you said you thought I was gay because you were attracted to me?” He asks, leaning over to take my bowl and then place both empty bowls on the coffee table. When he stretches to reach the table, his sweatshirt lifts up and his scrumptious eight pack is peeking out at me again in all its glory. Once again, I suck in my bottom lip and worry it with my teeth.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yes, Dak. Since it was only about fifteen minutes ago, I remember,” I answer, opening my eyes. Thank God his abs are no longer visible. It may seem like a ridiculous thing to be thankful for, but I’m trying to exercise some restraint here. I am.
“You said every guy you’re attracted to turns out to be…um…gay. Is that right?”
“Well, the last few, anyway.” I twirl a strand of hair around a finger. Why are we talking about this again? It’s obvious my bad streak is broken, since I’m sitting here with the most virile straight guy on campus.
“It was more than just Sean then?”
“There were two other guys before Sean,” I say in a more exasperated tone than I intend. Dak’s been nothing but sweet, since I told him about my colossal bad choices in the past. But with everything out in the open—almost everything, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want us to move beyond this.
But he’s not ready to move past the conversation. “Two? Really?” Dak asks, sounding more concerned than surprised.
“It was nothing like with Sean,” I blurt out. “I…I only hung out with them for a while before they told me they were gay and considered me a good friend. And then they hooked up with each other,” I mumble.
“Oh. Good.” He blows out a relieved sigh.
“Hmm. Depends on your perspective, I suppose.”
Because it didn’t feel so good to me watching my besties—the pseudo Jamie Bower and Claude Monet—sucking face. “Wait, were you worried because you thought I was a loose woman with bad judgment or because you think I possess some kind of weird power to turn straight men gay?” I’m sucking in my lip to hold back a smile, though I wasn’t smiling a year ago when I was considering it a plausible possibility.
“What? No, of course not.”
“Of course not to which one?” I can’t resist teasing him.
“Of course not to both, Bambi.” He smirks. “I just didn’t want to think of you having to go through that kind of heartbreak more than once.”
Boom. There go my ovaries again.
“Trust me, Bambi, the power you hold over me is the complete opposite of turning me gay. When I’m around you, I’m about as heterosexual as a man could ever be.”
I hold a power over him?
This foreplay of words we keep exchanging has my body temperature rising. My disloyal, needy body squirms in anticipation on our fluffy bed. Thank goodness he’s decided not to make another move on me, because I wouldn’t be able to say no when every one of my cells is saying yes, yes, yes.
“I’m pretty beat and I know you are too. How about we get some sleep so we can get out of here early if the weather lets up in the morning?”
Right. The morning. Even though I’m relieved he’s not making this any harder for me than it already is, I’m kind of sad at the thought of our mini version of Cast Away ending in the morning.
“Okay,” I answer, trying not to sound disappointed. I don’t even know what I’m disappointed about. I already decided I don’t want to be another one of his fuck buddies, but these feelings I’m experiencing and the way I want to climb his body like a tree whenever I see him can’t be denied. “I’m going to run upstairs and brush my teeth first.”
“Yeah. Me too. I’ll race you upstairs. I’ll even give you a head start.” He pushes himself up from the soft mattress.
“I’m too tired to race you tonight.” I stand up and walk off the soft bed.
“What’s the matter, Bambi, you afraid I’ll…” I don’t hear the end of his taunting question because I’m already halfway up the stairs before Dak even realizes what’s happening.
“You’re a cheater, Trace Hayward!” he calls out in laughter and runs behind me
***
There’s no other light in the room other than the glow of firelight when we snuggle under the down filled comforter a few minutes later. Dak has no problem falling asleep. He’s making little snoring noises almost the minute his head hits the pillow.
Lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, I’m trying to process everything that’s happened in the last few hours. Glancing at my watch, I note it’s only eleven. It feels like we’ve spent way more than a few hours together. With all the promises I made to myself when I transferred to Bernard, how did I end up revealing things to him I never told anyone else? And how the hell did I end up sleeping next to the hottest guy on campus and wanting said hot guy with every cell in my body in a few weeks’ time?
He shifts in his sleep, turns on his side facing me, and his warm breath brushes my cheek. My heart starts beating in a pulse matching the rhythmic dance of the shadows on the ceiling caused by the flickering flames. And then it occurs to me what I want and what I need to do about it.
“Dak?” I whisper, staring at his beautiful, peaceful face. I don’t get any response, so I try again a bit louder, but quiet enough not to interrupt the comforting tranquility of the moment. “Dak? Are you sleeping?”
“Hmm bfflltr,” he stirs and makes an attempt at the English language, at least I think it’s English. I’m envious at his ability to fall into such a deep sleep so fast. It doesn’t matter how tired I am, once my head touches the pillow, thoughts come whirling through my head and I lay there in an immobile dance with my brain, spinning around the thoughts of things I need to get done. And I need Dak to join in my current thought process because it concerns him in a big way.
“Dak.” I touch his face softly and his drowsy eyes flutter open. His lids blink a couple of times like he’s trying to focus on what he’s seeing.
“Trace,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I shift so I’m facing him. We’re so close our noses are almost touching. “I thought about what I want.”
“What’s that, baby girl?” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and I quiver at his touch. Sparks of electricity shoot out to every part of my body. I resist the overwhelming urge to push closer to him and press my body against his.
“I want to have sex with you.” I’m still whispering, but my words are resolute. Dak is the first guy whose touch hasn’t sent me running, the first guy I could let get close in a long time. This feels so right. He blinks a few more times in rapid succession and bolts straight up to a seated position.
“What? What now? Can you repeat that, because I’m pretty sure I’m in some kind of sleep-induced coma?” He runs his hand back through his sexy bed-tousled hair. Between his suggestive disheveled appearance and the adorable look of confusion on his face, I’m already so turned on I need to rub my legs together to soothe the longing for him.
“I said I want us to have sex,” I state a little louder because I want to be perfectly clear.
“What are you talking about?”
“Wow. You definitely must still be asleep if you don’t know what ‘have sex with me’ means.” Even though I’m a jumbled mess of nerves because of what I’m suggesting, I can’t help giggle at the way his confused expression has morphed into one of disbelief.
“I know what that means.” He blows out a big breath and there’s no doubt, he’s definitely wide awake now. “But why are you asking me? I thought you said you weren’t into casual sex and it was too soon after what the dickhead put you through for any kind of relationship, anyway?”
“Right.” I sit up cross-legged in front of him.
“Soooo?” He leans toward me and glares at me through wide eyes, like he’s waiting for the big reveal on how I managed to sustain a complete mental breakdown in the past half hour.
“I’m not ready for a relationship, that’s why this is perfect. Don’t you see? Things in the universe are lined up perfectly.”
“Tracey. Baby. You’ll forgive me. I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “That seems to happen a lot when you’re talking to me,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I know there’s this unbelievable attraction between us, but how exactly did you go from ‘go away and leave me the fuck alone’ to ‘I want to have sex with you’ in a few days?”
“I never said leave me the fuck alone.”
“No. But you did say ‘go away and leave me alone,’ the fuck was implied. So, what’s up? Why the drastic change of heart?”
“Why does it matter why I changed my mind? You never have a problem saying yes to anyone else who wiggles her ass in your direction.”
“It matters because you’re not that kind of girl.”
“You know I’m not a virgin, Dak.”
“I think I understand your sexual status, Trace. But a few days ago you didn’t even want to talk to me and you were adamant about the no casual sex thing. Now you want to get naked and climb all over me? I get I’m irresistible, sweetheart, can’t argue with that. And I feel the way you tremble whenever I touch you.”
“You are such an egotistical jerk. And I do not tremble.”
“Oh, you tremble, and you make little oooh sounds.”
“If you could put a harness on your galloping ego for one second and listen.” I move closer to him so I’m right in front of him, sure if he can see me he will be able to understand me better. “I feel like we’ve become good friends in the last few hours. As you said, I’m not ready for any complicated relationships and I know you’re not into any kind of relationship. You just…well…sleep around. And since I don’t want to get involved with anyone, I changed my mind.”
“You don’t want to get involved with anyone so you changed your mind about sleeping with me,” he states like he’s finally figured it out.
“Right. You said yourself we can’t deny the attraction between us.” He’s nodding, the thought train chugging along. “I want you, and from what I…um… felt, you want me too. Since we’re friends and there’s no chance of us getting involved, I thought we could have sex, no strings attached. No feelings, no falling in love. You know, just for fun, and I can even throw in a little extra studying and tutoring for you.” I sit up straight and flip my hair back over my shoulder, content I came up with a reasonable solution to the quagmire of sexual tension between us. I managed to explain the solution in a concise, understandable manner.
“What the fuck!” He jumps up and starts pacing the floor. Uh oh. I think the thought train has jumped the tracks. “Are you saying you want us to have, like, a meaningless fuck for fun? Oh. No, wait. You want it in exchange for tutoring?” He air quotes around the word exchange, like it’s some kind of poison word. “Are you like selling yourself to me now?”
“What? No! Absolutely not. We already made an arrangement in exchange for the skating routine. I just thought—”
“No. You didn’t think. Are you crazy? Why now? Why me? You know what I’m like with women. I don’t get involved. I don’t stay around. ”
He hasn’t stopped pacing, or should I say stomping back and forth like a caged tiger. If I squint, I swear I see steam coming out of his nose and ears.
“That’s exactly why you. You don’t want any strings and neither do I… I only want—”
“To get laid,” he spits.
“No.” I’m sitting on the bed, looking up at his angry face. “Well, yes. But I want it to be with you,” I add in a soft voice.
His anger dissolves into what looks and sounds like disappointment. “No way.” He shakes his head. “Not with you.”
“So you’re not attracted to me?”
“Of course I’m attracted to you. You’re fucking gorgeous! There isn’t any part of me that doesn’t want you. But I’m not the right guy for you. You’re not that kind of girl. You don’t…you know. Besides, like you said, we’re friends. I don’t do ‘casual fuck’ with friends.” He freaking air quotes again, this time around the words casual fuck.
“Let me get this straight.” I untangle myself from the twisted blankets around me and stand in front of him. “You can fuck anything in a crotch-length skirt that brushes past you, but you can’t have sex with me,” I snarl and poke a finger into his chest. His magnificent chest.
He grabs my wrist and glares at me. Then his grip softens. “They’re not you. You’re different.” He drops my hand.
I don’t miss a beat with my response. I’ve had a lot of experience in the arena of rejection. I was trained by the world’s biggest asshole, so this latest rejection is nothing.
“Never mind. Forget it. Let’s just go to sleep so we can wake up bright and early and get the freak out of here.”
Throwing myself back down on the bed, I pull the blankets up so high they almost cover my head. The covers shift as he lies down next to me. I’m lying on my back, peeking out over the top of the blankets, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. In my peripheral vision I can see he’s on his back staring up at the ceiling too.
“Trust me,” he says, his voice so low it’s barely audible, “I’m not what you need. I’m not good for you.”
“I’m old enough to decide what is or isn’t good for me,” I answer without turning to him.
“You sure about that?” I can feel him staring at me when he asks the loaded question.
Sure, I made plenty of stupid choices in my past. But I’m older, smarter. Aren’t I? When I don’t answer him, he turns on his side, facing away from me.
I keep my eyes glued to the performance of the waving silhouettes taking place on the ceiling in shades of gray and black. My mind is racing as I think about Dak’s words. I can’t be angry with him. I know what I suggested is crazy and out of character for me, and I kind of get where he’s coming from. He listened to my past horror story and was comforting and understanding. In fact, he’s done nothing but take care of me all night. I don’t think he’s rejecting me; I think he’s trying to take care of me as a concerned friend. And as crazy as it is, I want him even more now because of his reaction to my proposition.
The rhythmic swaying on the ceiling acts like a rocking lullaby and after a few minutes my lids grow heavy and exhaustion overtakes the thoughts racing through my head and the desires pulsing through my body.
***
This dream is even more intense than the last one. My back is pressed against his front. His arm is holding me tight against him and his leg is draped over my hip. I wiggle my ass back into him and he responds with a groan, his hard, full length against me.
I’m on fire, burning hotter than the glowing embers in the fireplace. I turn and his arm tightens even more around me. I gaze into his eyes. They sear into mine. In the dim light they appear as dark and dangerous as the stormy waters in the bay.
His hand moves to my face and he strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Trace,” he whispers. The sound of my name on his lips reverent.
My heart is beating so hard against my ribs it’s going to explode. I can’t control it. I’m going to die of pleasure right here in my sleep.
“I do want you so bad,” he whispers and rocks his hips into me so I can feel how much harder and bigger his cock is now.
Oh God. Is this real? Am I dreaming?
He leans in and kisses me with a gentleness as soft as his whispers. I return his kiss. But I can’t be gentle. I’m consumed by my scorching need. I part my lips, inviting his further exploration. Our tongues tangle and I grab his full bottom lip in my teeth and bite down. I’m going to devour him if I don’t get release.
“Please…Dak. Please,” I beg.
This is too intense. Too real. I need to wake up.
His slips his hand into the waist of my pants and moves it between my thighs, his fingers stroking and teasing.
“I need…please,” I moan.
“I know what you need, baby girl. I’m here.” He licks and kisses the tender spot below my ear, and despite the molten blood pulsing through me I shiver in response. He slides one finger inside me with ease. I’m slick with the need for him.
“Fuck. You’re so wet,” he groans. He uses his thumb to make circles on the aching bundle of nerves at my center and then slips in another finger. I arch into his hand, pushing against it. My body is going to detonate if I don’t wake up.
“Oh God…Dakota. Please,” I plead. I can’t breathe. I need more.
This is so real. So real.
His fingers start pumping in and out of me at a frantic pace and my hips match their rhythm. “Fuck. Tracey,” he groans in a raspy voice. “Let it go, baby. I want to feel you let go.”
My world explodes into a haze of blazing fireworks. I scream his name as waves of pleasure lift and rock me in what feels like an unending ride back down to Earth. The coiled tension holding me finally releases. Every muscle relaxes into him while he showers my face and neck with kisses and whispered endearments. At first I’m so filled with the blissful intoxication I luxuriate in his tenderness. But when he slides his fingers out of me, I’m jolted out of my hazy afterglow and I know.
It isn’t a dream.