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He makes a humming noise. Content. Amused. “Possibly. But something tells me I’ll enjoy it too.” Lightly, he traces his fingertips over my hips, raising gooseflesh in his wake.
“What if it’s an hour-long foot rub?”
“Maybe I have a secret foot fetish.” I know he’s smiling. I can feel it along my skin. “Maybe I get off on foot rubs.”
I laugh just a bit. “If you think that’s going to scare me, you’re wrong.” He probably gives great foot rubs. Strong fingers. Intense concentration. I’m tempted to beg for one now.
“Damn.” His sigh tickles my back. “Then what?” Another kiss. “Come on, hit me with it.”
I tilt my head and snuggle down into the cradle of my arms. “Maybe I’ll have you edit my class paper.”
He goes so still, I can hear my own heartbeat, and then he rests his cheek on my butt. I want to squirm, but he slips his arms under me and holds tight.
“Edit it?” His voice is a vibration through my skin.
Absently, I nod. “Mmm. You know, point out all the flaws of logic like you do in class. Which I hate to admit, you’re right more than you’re wrong. Not surprising, smart as you are.”
I’m basically babbling, but his hold on me clenches, and he takes a sharp breath.
The sheets rustle as I crane my neck to look down at him. From my vantage point I can only see his profile from above, the gold streaks in his hair at the crown of his head and the darker brown along his temples, the high bridge of his nose, and the thick curve of his lashes against his cheeks.
With his head resting on my ass, his body is half off the bed, he’s so damn long. Lean yet strong, muscular yet graceful. I could look at him forever. But his shoulders are so tight now that every sinew and curve stand out.
“You don’t think you’re smart?” My voice is a rasp in the quiet.
His answer is just as rough, but there’s a hint of bitter laughter in it. “Oh, I know I’m smart.”
He glances up, and when our eyes meet, that familiar, sweet punch hits me straight in the heart. His eyes are dark and shining in the low light. “It’s just that, outside of my team, not many people give a shit if I am or not.”
No, most care about that arm of his. The one now wrapped around my waist, giving me a little squeeze as if he needs to bring me closer. Or his hand, which is tenderly pressed into my lower belly, so warm and secure that contentment spreads over me.
I want to keep this moment. Keep this part of him, like a secret. But he’s not mine to keep, and even though it might hurt him that people only see his surface, he still loves that life. And why shouldn’t he? His talent is immense, and he works his ass off. I don’t want to change that. It would change him.
Watching me, his expression turns pinched and pained. “I caught one of my professors grading a test in my favor.” He almost chokes on the words, as if it’s killing him to admit this to me. “I don’t know how many times it’s happened without my knowledge, or if they’ve all done things like that.”
He holds himself so tightly, the pain and humiliation he feels so evident that I see red.
“Fuck him, Drew.” Never have I wanted to punch someone as much as I want to hit his professor. “Fuck anyone who does that.”
Drew’s cheek presses harder into my flesh. “I know. I just don’t like thinking my academic career has been a lie.” His voice drops to barely a whisper. “It means something to me.”
My fingers dig into my forearms as I glare at the herringbone-patterned bedspread. “You did the work, and you have the intelligence. No one can take that away from you.” I swallow past the thickness in my throat. “And if you never even went to one class, you’d still be one of the smartest people I know. The most dedicated.”
Silence follows my statement, and the soft caress of Drew’s breathing tickles my skin. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “You always make me feel better. Like myself again.”
A pang shoots through my heart, sweet and aching. Drew doesn’t make me feel like myself. He makes me feel better than myself. As if there is a little broken part in me, rattling and loose, and whenever he’s near it falls into place and tightens. The thought has me withdrawing, sinking into that cold, thick place that chokes me. I’m beginning to need him too much.
And because he is smart, and knows me now, knows my debilitating fear of intimacy, his hold suddenly shifts. One hand eases up to cup my breast while the other hand drifts down. Long, calloused fingers slide between my legs, and I close my eyes, my muscles clenching in that delicious way that makes me feel like an addict, wanting to beg for more and more. Always more.
“Again?” I ask as if half-exasperated, but I’m not. I’m grateful. And my heart falls that much further into his keeping. Which terrifies me.
I don’t get a chance to plummet into terror. Drew is turning me over, his lips following the path of his hand. “Just proving my earlier point of your irresistibility.” It’s a murmur against my skin.
I close my eyes. Don’t think. Just feel. And he lets me, because we both are excellent liars now.
sixteen
Drew
