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I feel so lucky. So goddamn lucky that Eli was my first. I’ve heard stories of girls who lost it to guys who didn’t give a shit about them, making their sexual experience solely one-sided. It’s partly what made me wait all this time. But I’m so glad I did. And not just because Eli loves me, but because he cares about me and respects me, which was evident tonight.
“Shit,” Eli says from the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t mean to go that hard.” His naked body bounds over to me, standing behind me, as his fingers delicately graze the red marks peppered across my chest.
“That’s okay. I kind of like it,” I tell him, referring to the red skin that is sure to turn into hickeys tomorrow. “At least you kept them low so I can hide them.”
Wrapping his arms around my middle, he bends down to kiss my collarbone before leaning his chin on my shoulder.
“Was it okay for you?” Eli sincerely asks, looking at me through the mirror as he holds onto my naked body. “Was that how you imagined it?”
God, I love him. This big-ass arrogant dude is just a soft teddy bear when it comes to me.
I turn around to face him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “It wasn’t about how. It was about who.” I reach up on my toes to kiss his worried lips. “But the ‘how’ was great too.”
“I love you,” Eli says, smiling down at me.
“I love you too,” I tell him, enjoying his embrace for a few moments. “Now go make me some dinner.” I slap his bare ass as Eli’s deep belly laugh echoes across the bathroom walls.
I take my time gathering myself and my thoughts before heading down to the kitchen, wearing Eli’s shirt. As I walk down the stairs, I spot him in front of the stove, shirtless, his lean back facing me.
When I get a little closer to him, I find scratch marks on his back that I must have put there when we were having sex. I remember grabbing onto him, trying to relieve the pressure, but I didn’t realize I was that rough.
“Eli, I scratched the shit out of you.” I walk up behind him, grazing the red marks on his upper back.
“I know. I felt it,” Eli says without turning around as he heats a pot of water on the stove.
“Sorry, baby.” I wrap my arms around his middle and press my cheek to his bare back.
He drapes his arm over mine. “Don’t be. I liked it.” He turns around and presses his warm lips to mine. “I have a very important question for you. Are we thinking legit pasta or Kraft Mac and Cheese? Because I have options, and I excel at both,” my arrogant boy says as he lifts me up and gently sits me on the kitchen island.
“Kraft Mac and Cheese,” I quickly answer without hesitation.
“That’s my girl.”
“Remind me where you’re headed this week?” I ask as Eli puts the noodles into the boiling water to cook.
“Tuesday, we play at Purdue, which will be cool because my parents aren’t far, so they’re coming to watch. Then Friday, we’ll be at Ohio State.”
“Ohio State. Isn’t that where that guy who broke your ankle plays?”
“Evan fucking Zanders,” he says in a low voice. “Yeah, he plays there.”
“Are you worried about that?” I ask with concern. He might not be, but I certainly am. The last thing I want is for Eli to get hurt again.
“Worried?” he asks, turning around to face me, standing between my legs. “No. I just gotta keep my head up when I’m out there because he’s a dirty motherfucker. He’s been on my ass for years. But he’s good, so is his team, and there will probably be at least one NHL scout there that night. He and I are both on their radars.”
His words hit me as I’m reminded that Eli can leave at any moment. As soon as he gets that call, he’ll be on the next flight out, leaving me here. I pull my gaze away from his as the unwelcome thoughts swirl around my mind.
“Don’t worry,” Eli says, tucking my damp hair behind my ear. “If I start to feel panicky, I’ll call. I’ll be alright.”
Perfect, now let’s add Eli’s panic attacks to my list of concerns.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I ask, trying to get my mind off things.
“I gotta meet the bus at six tomorrow night.”
“What about school? You guys miss so much school. Doesn’t it affect your grades?”
Eli looks at me with a smug glance. “Baby. I’m a division one athlete with a full-ride scholarship. As fucked up as it sounds, we get special treatment. And our professors are picked for us, knowing which ones favor athletes. So no, I don’t really need to worry about school.”
