Laird
Reese didn’t talk to me on the ride back to campus.
Not a word.
A different guy might let that bother him. Feel insecure and try to fill the silence with small talk or flirting or apologies or turn on the radio just to have some goddamn background noise to drown out the nothing.
Not me. Nope.
I let her sit there, two feet away, within a fucking arm’s reach and did nothing.
Her mind was whirling. I could tell by the way her gaze would dart around, then fixate on something before going a little vacant when she was no longer paying attention to the college-town scenery Rodner, Alabama had to offer and was inside her own head.
Just thinking.
Because I was an arrogant asshole, I was pretty damn sure those thoughts were all centered on me and the words I told her at my townhouse. That final, dirty promise I made her.
I stole a glance at her when I made a right turn onto her street. Strands of her dark hair were curling from the humidity around the base of her neck where it’d escaped from her ponytail, or maybe it was from when I’d wrapped those long locks around my hand and pulled her head back to expose her throat.
Damn, that’d felt good. When she’d responded by parting her lips and closing her eyes a little, her breathing a little softer and more rapid than it’d been before I’d touched her. When her thighs had rubbed together only to part again at the knees when I moved closer, as if begging me to explore.
And, fuck if I didn’t want to learn everything there was to know about her. Which spot made her gasp and tense up, if she preferred to be licked slow and gentle or firm and fast, the perfect angle that made her scream my name. It wasn’t just her body either. Seeing her at the hospital had hit me at a visceral level. I wanted to find out what made her laugh, discover the secret to making her smile so big that dimple appeared, and uncover her greatest fear so I could stand by her side when she had to face it. Yeah, this wasn’t a girl who’d let me do the dirty work for her, slay her dragons while she cowered in the ivy-covered tower. Reese would be on the front lines, carving her own path and wielding her own sword. And I wanted to be the one to have her back on the journey.
When I pulled to a stop in front of Petersen Hall, her dorm, she didn’t react. Her full lower lip was caught between her teeth and she was absently stroking her neck, that soft spot just below her ear where I’d nibbled earlier.
Yeah. She was thinking about me.
It was only after I circled the Jeep, opened her door, reached in, and shook her knee slightly that she responded, jerking back to the present with a little gasp.
I couldn’t help the shit-eating grin on my face.
“We’re here.”
She climbed out of my Wrangler and blinked, as if surprised to find we were steps away from her dorm. I let my hand settle on the small of her back, pleased when she didn’t object or pull away, and steered her through the lobby to the elevator that would take us to her room on the fourth floor.
During the ascent, I studied our dull reflections on the chrome walls. I’d never been with a girl as tall as her, but I liked the way we looked together. Height on a girl would have some definite advantages. Longer legs to wrap around my waist. I wouldn’t have to contort to try to kiss her lips or suck her nipples while I was buried deep inside her. Shower sex would be a thousand times easier. Even something as simple as reaching down to hold her hand.
Reese might have ruined me on short girls forever before I’d even tasted her.
I walked her to her door, room 407, then followed her in after she unlocked it without waiting for an invitation. While I would never, ever force myself on a girl, I wasn’t above playing a little dirty when it came to her.
As she toed off her shoes in the corner, I crossed over to the little basket on the edge of her desk, where I’d found a bottle of ibuprofen the night I’d brought her drunken ass back here and taken care of her. Removing it and shaking it to ensure it wasn’t empty, I set it and a bottle of water I snagged from her mini-fridge next to her bed.
“You can have more at midnight,” I reminded her. “Don’t forget. You’re gonna need it to get through tomorrow.”
Her glance flickered between the bottle of pills and me, her eyebrows folding down in confusion. “How did you know where…”
I stared at her. Waited for recognition to widen her gaze, for her to bite her lip in embarrassment maybe. Confusion filled her eyes and pursed her lips. I huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “Jesus, you don’t remember do you?”
She cocked her head just slightly. “Remember?”
“After the drumline party? The one where you kissed Smith?” My voice dripped with bitterness as I said his name. I couldn’t help it.
“I thought Willa…” she trailed off, comprehension dawning. “It was you?”
I nodded curtly. That explained her reaction, or lack thereof, at practice the next day. While I hadn’t necessarily expected a thank you, I’d expected… fuck, something. An acknowledgement at least?
She rubbed her chin absently before she stiffened, shooting me a panicked look. “I woke up without pants that morning. Without a bra.”
And I’d beaten myself off more than once to the memory of undressing her, as innocent as it had been. I couldn’t help torture her a little right now though. “Yup.”
“So you—” she bit off the rest of her words, her face pinking in the best way as her eyes slid closed.
I wouldn’t laugh at her though. I’d never do that. Taking the two strides necessary to reach her, I cupped her jaw and tipped her face up to mine. “Nothing happened, Reese. Not like that. Not with you wasted.” I paused, let those words sink in before I continued. “When I touch you—and make no mistake, it’s a when, not an if—you’re going to remember every fucking second of it. And it’ll be because you want it as badly as I do.” Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and I tugged it free with my thumb. “I took care of you, hung out and watched you like a fucking creeper to make sure you weren’t gonna puke all over yourself in the middle of the night, and left before the sun came up.”
She cringed.
“Did you know you make this soft little whimper sometimes when you’re sleeping? Not a snore, it’s a different noise.” I ran my thumb along her cheekbone, where the pink was the darkest. “It made me wonder what you were dreaming about.”
The pink changed under my hand, darkening further.
I dipped down, traced her jaw with my nose. “You better not have been dreaming about that fucker, Smith. Are you seeing him?”
“And if I was?”
White-hot jealousy pierced my chest and I wanted to roar my displeasure. She. Was. Mine. I tamped down the intensity to an acceptable level, forcing a slow breath in and out through my nose. Like fuck would I allow that shit. “I’d hate for you to break his heart when you choose me instead.” I nibbled her lobe, followed the delicate shell of her ear with my tongue. My cock jumped when she swayed against me, her hands fisting the sides of my shirt at my hips. I buried my smile in her hair. “Because you will.”
With that vow, I released her, pleased as hell when she sank down to sit on the edge of her bed, as if her legs couldn’t support her.
“I’m gonna go.” I tipped my head toward the door. “You going to be okay? Do you want me to drive you to the health clinic? I think it’s just bruised, but if you think one of your ribs…?” I’d probed them lightly at the apartment when she was pressed against me in the bedroom. She hadn’t flinched when I’d run my hand down her side until I got to her waist, well past the curve of her ribs.
“No, I’m good.” She hesitated. “Laird…” Another long pause as uncertainty flitted over her face, before she seemed to reach some kind of decision. “Your apartment is a thousand degrees. There’s no way you can sleep there tonight. I have an extra bed if you wanna crash here.” She nodded at the bare twin bed behind us. “You said you stayed the other night…”
I sucked in a breath as my dick leapt for joy. Stay stay stay, it pulsed in time to my racing heart. “Reese. If I stay tonight, I’m not sleeping in that bed over there.” I held up a hand. “I’m not saying we have to fuck, but I can’t take another night of watching you from across the room, and not at least having you in my arms.” Sharing a twin bed, there’d be no way to be anything except close.
Her sock-covered feet tapped out a nervous rhythm, the first part of the Bon Jovi song we’d been working on earlier today. “What about Oscar?”
“I have a neighbor two doors down with a beagle. Oscar hangs out there sometimes if my classes run late. He could probably stay there tonight.”
No more excuses. She had to make the decision herself. I’d laid it out there, but it was her turn to take a step toward me.
She fiddled with the edge of the quilt that covered her bed. It was pale blue and had a crazy intricate pleated type of design. If I was in her bed tonight, she wouldn’t need it. I’d keep her plenty warm.
“You should give them a call. See if they can keep Oscar,” she spoke to my knees.
“I don’t sleep in pants, by the way.”
“Jesus, Laird.” She tugged that oversized shirt of mine she was wearing away from her body, as if it was hot in her dorm too.
“Or a shirt.”
“You have to keep your underwear on!” Her voice was strangled and she wasn’t looking any higher than my ankles now.
“Reese.” Her hand fisted the edge of the quilt, then smoothed it back down, while her feet segued to the second song. “If I stay, it means something. I’m not saying I have expectations for tonight, but it means something. And I need you to admit it.”
Her feet stilled, and she ran her palms down her thighs and back up again, but her fingers were relaxed, not stiff. She raised her melted chocolate gaze to mine and looked me right in the eye. “You should call your friend. About Oscar.”
I’d never texted so fast in my life.
And two hours later, after she’d showered and come up with a million inane topics of conversation to delay the inevitable of climbing in bed with me, it was obvious she wasn’t going to be able to keep her eyes open much longer. It might’ve only been ten o’clock, but when you spent as much time being active in the heat as we did, exhaustion was real.
I took pity on her and flipped the light switch, tipping the room into the near dark. The orange glow of the street lights below us filtered through the cheap metal blinds, providing some illumination, but not much.
She fidgeted by the side of the bed. It was adorable.
Without making a big fuss about it, I shucked my shorts and my shirt, making a little pile next to my shoes on the floor at the foot of her bed. Then I pulled back her quilt and sheet and climbed in, laid on my side, and patted the empty space next to me.
“Waiting on you, Reese.”
She edged in gingerly, as if she feared that together we were over the weight limit of the standard issue bed frame and it might come crashing down at any second. Positioning herself as the little spoon to my big spoon, she settled in place.
And then wiggled. And squirmed. And shifted. When her last movement produced a soft groan, I’d had enough. “What’s wrong?”
Utter stillness. She didn’t budge. But then she finally admitted on a whisper, “I’m laying on my bruise like this, and it hurts.”
I felt like a grade-A ass and immediately readjusted us. Once I was flat on my back and she was glued to my side with her head pillowed on my shoulder, her leg thrown over mine, and my arm wrapped around her to hold her in place, I was satisfied.
Her free arm lay bent across my chest, her hand resting near the G tattoo on my right pec.
It was almost perfect. Except one thing. “Hey, Reese? What the fuck is poking my ribs? There’s no way your nipples can be that hard.”
Was it possible to feel a blush? Because I felt her embarrassment like a tangible thing.
“It’s… the underwire of my bra.”
“Why the fuck are you wearing a bra to bed?” I asked it conversationally, to put her at ease. “Do you normally do that?”
A pause. Then, “No.”
There were several ways I could handle this, but considering her smart mouth was MIA, I assumed she was feeling more than a little vulnerable. I bent my neck until I could look down at her, and then brushed her hair away from her face gently.
“Do you trust me?” I pitched my voice low and serious. “Because in case you misunderstood me earlier, I want you. And I’m not really looking to fuck this up. Take off the bra. Get comfortable. I’m not trying to get in your panties tonight.” I tapped the tip of her nose gently. “Not until you’re ready. I just want to feel you close to me. You’re safe, I promise.”
Her breath whooshed out in a long exhale, and I could feel the tension melt from her muscles. She leaned up and performed whatever voodoo magic girls do that allow them to take off their bras without ever removing their tops, leaving her in just a soft cotton shirt and some tiny plaid boxer shorts.
She sank down on the mattress again, and I nearly groaned at how good it felt to have her plastered against me. Her leg slid over mine, her thigh perilously close to my dick. Part of me begged her to shift over that last inch, to press against me, and the other part hoped she stayed right where she was, so my burgeoning erection didn’t scare her off. I told her the truth when I promised her I was content just to hold her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t aroused as fuck.
The curtain of her hair fell over my bicep, and I was careful to keep my hand on her lower back and away from her sore hip. The soft puff of her breath warmed my neck at steady intervals. It was her left arm, her free arm, that was making me crazy.
Her fingertip lightly traced the black ink of the G, once, then twice. My dick swelled, and I flattened her hand against my chest to still her motions.
“What’s the G for? Your middle name maybe? Laird G. Bronson? Or an old girlfriend?”
Did her voice get a little brittle there when she said that last word? “No. G stands for Garrett, my brother.” My hand pressed hers down harder for a moment, right over the tattoo.
“Aww, that’s sweet.” She tipped her chin up to me. “Does he have an L for you?”
I blinked hard at the sudden burn in my eyes. “No.” Leaning, down, I dropped a single, soft kiss to the top of her forehead. “Enough questions for one night. Get some sleep.”
I released her hand and tucked mine behind my head, propping myself up a tiny bit so I could have a better view of her curves against me. Sleep wasn’t part of my immediate plan, not when it meant missing out on this.
Her hand drifted lower, away from the tattoo. I couldn’t stop my abs from contracting when her palm brushed over them. I growled in a mix of satisfaction and frustration. “You know,” my voice was deep, husky, as I whispered to her, “just because I promised to behave, doesn’t mean you have to. Feel free to touch me wherever you want, gorgeous.”
Reese made a little noise in the back of her throat before those slim fingers of hers slid partially under the waistband of my boxer briefs, brushing back and forth over the sensitive skin just inside my hip. I couldn’t help thrusting up a tiny bit, begging her to continue her southward journey. But the little minx retreated, pulled back and snapped the elastic sharply against my skin, and had the gall to laugh at my pained moan.
Then, her pleased grin so big I could see it despite the dimness, that dimple taunting me, she wrapped her arm around my waist, snuggling close and stilling her tormenting movements. “Night, Laird.”
As I replayed the last two minutes in my mind with a very different ending, drifting off was the least of my priorities. But I was wrong. Sleep claimed me soon after her breathing evened out, her heart beating the same tempo as mine.
The dream was both the same as normal and different from before, and it broke me like it did every time.
The hospital was cold, like always, but the little boy sitting in the middle of all the beeping machines wasn’t wearing Eli’s thick glasses. Instead, he stared back at me with the same green eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.
His pale fingers traced the line of tubing that ran from the port in his chest to the pump on the pole next to his bed. “She’s pretty, Laird.” I followed his gaze to the open doorway, where I saw a flash of dark hair and long legs.
Reese.
“I call dibs on that one,” he continued, leaning forward to try to catch another glimpse.
“You can’t,” I said automatically. “She’s mine.”
He smirked, those familiar eyes taunting me. “Does she know that?”
I snorted at his trash talking, and flexed my biceps obnoxiously, putting my guns on full display. “Not yet. But who can resist all this?”
He smiled wistfully. “Will I look like you when I grow up? So I can get a pretty girl too?” The blue veins were visible in his thin arms, and there were scars from so many needle sticks and IVs.
No.
No, he wouldn’t.
Because he’d never grow up.
“Definitely,” I lied. We both knew it was a lie, but I said it anyway, hating the way his eyes dimmed a little.
“Hey, Laird?”
“Yeah, Garrett?”
His face was worried. “She might be out of your league, with legs like that. But don’t give up, okay?”
I scoffed, and if he’d had hair, I would’ve ruffled it. “Are you doubting your big brother? Of course, I’m going to get the girl.”
“Never.” He smiled up at me, lips dry and cracked. “You never let me down.”
But that was the biggest lie of all.
And we both knew it.