Chapter 17 #2
Not if I can’t come in with her, at least.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks, looking so adorably shy I want to cradle her in my arms. She’s rarely timid with me. Usually only when I’m touching her.
I set my hand on her thigh, and it takes everything within me not to trail my fingers upward. I don’t want to spook her.
“Anything,” I say.
“Did you really never let Harper wear your jersey?”
I try to manage a lazy grin, even though my heart is pounding in my chest. It was a stupid rule I set with Harper. An excuse I invented mostly because I knew she would see wearing my jersey as a sign that she owns me.
Yet a part of me knows that wasn’t the only reason.
I only wanted one girl to wear my jersey, and until I won her, I didn’t want to see it on anyone else.
“Yeah, I told her I’d only let my future wife wear it.” I laugh, but it feels forced out of my throat.
Amy frowns. “That’s kind of mean. Even if you were teasing, it probably didn’t make her feel great as your girlfriend.”
I shrug. “You know how Harper is. She wants you to prove that you care about her. It used to annoy me. Being her boyfriend should have been enough.”
“I don’t agree. When you care about someone, you should be willing to give them the little things that mean a lot to them. Even if they’re stupid to you.”
My skin heats. “Why are you defending Harper?”
I can’t stand it when she does this. Sometimes it seems like she’s jealous of Harper, and other times, it’s like she’s trying to improve the relationship I have with her former friend.
No. I’m making progress with her. That kiss on the field today was like nothing I’ve ever had from her before. She melted into me, hummed when I nuzzled her neck, and she seemed disappointed when I finally set her down.
“It’s not Harper, really,” she says. “It would be true of any partner you had. I think you’re a bad boyfriend.”
I grin as I lean into her neck, nuzzling my nose against her skin. “That’s not true at all. I can be a very, very good boyfriend with enough motivation. I’d do anything for…”
Tingles break out over my skin. Holy shit. Was I really about to say I’d do anything for her? I can’t start making her think this is more serious than it is. It’s only about sex. She won’t officially be my girlfriend when I’m fucking her out of my system.
My obsession with her has taken a toll on me. Not being able to have something I’ve wanted for years has fucked with my head.
It feels like love, but it’s only an illusion. Love is supposed to be comfortable and easy.
Nothing about Amy is easy. Making her my girlfriend would only make this possessiveness I feel for her that much more potently toxic.
Then again, what would be the harm in indulging the fantasy for a few months? Harper was officially my girlfriend multiple times, when all the while I was pining for someone else. That’s about as toxic as it gets.
I wouldn’t mind letting her be my girlfriend for a few months if it will make her trust me. She has nothing to fear from me. I may hurt her in the end, but I’ll be so, so good to her in the process it will be more than worth it for her.
“For the right woman,” I finish.
She pins me with a hard stare. “You mean you’d get in a fight for her?”
I shut my eyes, my gut sinking. “You heard about that?”
“Seth told me about it,” Amy says, her eyes narrowing. “Nick told him that it was about me. Is that true?”
I shrug, hoping it didn’t look as jerky as it felt. “Your dress was really tight. A guy said something that was…irritating.”
Amy studies me for a moment, her eyes narrowed. “Irritating? You get into physical fights when you’re irritated?”
I grin, squeezing her thigh. Hopefully, I can play this off. She can’t know how alarmed I was by my own behavior. “Over you, I do.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “That’s not flattering. And I’m pretty sure it’s not even true. What really made you get into that fight? Was it to make Harper jealous?”
Goddamn it, does she really still think this is all about Harper? How can she be so naive to think I would expend this much effort, spend this much time with her—all to win back someone I can’t see a future with?
She’s not going to let this go easily. So I have to give her something. Something that won’t reveal too much. It’s too soon.
“It wasn’t really a fight,” I say. “I didn’t punch him or anything. But your makeover has been kind of…unsettling for me. I’m not used to other guys giving you a lot of attention. Except that Cody twat.”
She scowls. “Don’t talk about Cody like that, and why would you care if other guys give me attention? You’ve never even been nice to me. In fact, I’d say you’ve been cruel.”
I wince, hating that it always comes back to that moment in the quad. It’s the only time I’ve ever been guilty of hurting her on purpose.
“I know it was cruel,” I say, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “But I really didn’t mean for it to be. I mean… I knew you’d be upset, but…I didn’t think you’d hate me as much as you do.”
She sighs. “I don’t hate you.”
My stomach jolts, and I whip around to face her. “You don’t?”
Her shake of the head is so slight, I might not have noticed it if my eyes weren’t fixed on her, hungry for her response.
“Not anymore,” she says. “I’m still…distrustful, I guess. I’m a little scared of you, to be honest.”
The vulnerability in her voice compels my body forward. I brush my lips against her cheek. “I want to earn your trust. Let me.”
She turns to me, and her soft breath brushes down my neck. “For now, we can start with a kiss.”
I’m startled when she reaches up and places both palms on my cheeks. Her hands are cold, and yet a warmth that I’ve never felt before washes over me like tropical rain. Her lips meet mine, and it takes everything within me to savor the moment. To not devour her.
She’s kissing me. It’s a big deal.
Amy nibbles on my lips a few times before slipping her little tongue into my mouth.
One brush of my own with hers, and I lose all control.
I lift her at the waist and pull her up as I climb into the passenger seat.
It’s such a tight squeeze that I stumble a bit, and Amy laughs.
After setting her on my lap, I yank her head against mine.
She moans as I kiss her, and the sound goes straight to my dick. As if my hands have a will of their own, they start slipping up the baggy jersey and onto her soft, warm skin.
“Tristan,” Amy breathes my name between kisses, her hands finding their way to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Her heart races against my chest as our tongues dance together, and it makes my own pulse pound like a hammer against my throat.
Fuck, I’ve never loved kissing someone as much as I love kissing her.
“Is this okay?” I ask as I start slipping my fingers under her bra.
“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes glazed and dreamy.
“Oh fuck, Amy. I think I might die.”
And I really mean it. Her tits are big and plump and so, so soft. I’ve dreamed of getting my hands on them.
Our bodies press tightly together, and heat radiates between us. My thumbs rub over both of her nipples, and she whimpers.
Oh fuck, I need more of this. I’ll die if this is all I get.
“Amy,” I whisper. “Please—” I inhale a sharp breath. “Please come back with me. To my place.”
Her eyes grow wide, searching mine. I can see her mind racing, trying to figure out if she can trust me.
“I swear I’m not expecting anything,” I say in the gentlest voice I can. “We can just… cuddle or watch a movie or something. I just want to spend time with you.”
That vulnerable look fades, replaced by a cheeky smile. “Can we watch the 1995 Pride and Prejudice?”
My heart soars with victory. Here I am grinning like a little kid because we’re going to watch that boring ass movie. I’m glad she chose it. It’s long.
Which means more time with her.
I kiss her softly. “Of course we can.”