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“Wow,” she murmurs when the remnants of my orgasm are mostly gone. I’m still wracked by the occasional shiver and I roll over on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I try to control my breathing. My wildly beating heart.
“That was,” I take a deep breath, releasing it as steadily as I can. “Fucking unbelievable.”
She’s bouncing next to me, pouncing on top of me with a big smile on her face. “Really? It was good for you?”
“The best.” I smooth her hair away from her face with my hand, staring up into her eyes. Finding myself getting lost in them. They’re so vividly blue and full of happiness. “I’m tired.”
Her laugh is soft. “Me too. We should go to sleep.”
“Stay with me?” I feel so fucking raw, asking her that. It’s an unfamiliar sensation for me—vulnerability. I don’t leave myself so open to other people, especially girls. I haven’t met one who was special enough yet.
Until this girl.
Her nod is slow, her expression turning shy. “Yes.”
We pull the covers over us and she snuggles close, her head on my shoulder, her hand resting lightly on the center of my chest. Right at my heart. We’re quiet in the dark, my eyes falling shut, my breaths evening out.
“I don’t want to go back to campus,” she admits so softly I’m not sure if I actually heard her at first. “I don’t want this weekend to end.”
I feel the same exact way. Reality is right in front of us and I’d love to avoid it too.
But we can’t.
Leaning down, I press my mouth to the top of her head, breathing in her delicious scent. “Me neither.”
There’s a hesitation in the air and I wait for her to say something, but in the end, she doesn’t, and I can’t help but wonder what that was about. What did she want to tell me? We never did discuss why she can’t be seen with me on campus—she mentioned extenuating circumstances but what the hell was that about? I have no idea.
Honestly? I don’t want to know. I want to live in my Willow Lancaster bubble forever. Even though I know that’s impossible.
Fucking real life sucks.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Willow
Sunday night and I’m holed up in my dorm suite alone, thinking about tomorrow. How I’m going to have to pretend I don’t care about Rhett. Anxious over how I’m supposed to reject him without hurting his feelings.
It’s going to be impossible.
Only hours ago we woke up together and messed around in the early morning light. Making each other come with our fingers and mouths. Kissing each other so much, my mouth still aches and my body is tender. I miss him.
He’s going to hate me.
And it feels like I don’t have a choice.
I’m a distraction. I’ll ruin him. I can see it now—it’s painfully clear. He’s completely gone over me. I sound awful, like my ego is ginormous and I’m thrilled by this turn of events, but I’m not. I almost wish I hadn’t seen that dazed look in his eyes earlier, when he walked me to my room and kissed me soundly. I begged off spending time with him tonight, claiming I had a paper to write for American Government, which is partially true.
I just couldn’t stand the thought of spending time with him in my room. The two of us alone. I know what would’ve happened. If he had condoms? We would’ve had actual sex. Intercourse. I would’ve given him my virginity freely with zero regrets.
But I couldn’t do that to myself. To have him here and then push him away tomorrow would’ve been terrible. Spending time in my room after? Like torture. It’s best that what we shared happened at the Lancaster estate. Not ideal, since I’ll be going there for the rest of my life and the ghost of him will linger in the hall. In the guest bedroom. In the hot tub. At least I don’t spend every single day there.
God, none of this is easy. Tears spring to my eyes and I close them tightly, fighting an internal battle. I will not cry.
I will not.
Eventually I unpack my bag and stow it away in my closet. I open my laptop and read over the rough draft of the paper that’s due at midnight, tweaking it here and there before I send it off. I take a shower and wash my hair, wincing when I touch myself between my legs. It hurts, but not in a bad way. More like it’s just a reminder that I had Rhett between my legs countless times and he made me come.
I want to feel him again. One last time because I just know that this is it. He’ll be angry with me, but I refuse to be his downfall. I thought Westscott was exaggerating when he said I would be the biggest distraction for Rhett and he wouldn’t be able to play well. At the time, his warning was almost ridiculous. I didn’t think I was important enough in Rhett’s life to actually be considered a distraction.
