Twenty-Six
Holden
February
“You don’t look like you’re studying.”
I glance up from where I’m lounged across my stomach on the rec room sectional in our basement, using my textbook as a pillow. A very uncomfortable one, but then again, it’s not their intended use, so I can’t necessarily complain.
“I am studying,” I mutter, eyes tracing his long, muscled body sitting on the floor while he leans against the other half of the L-shaped couch. And then I promptly drop my head back on the smooth, cool pages.
The decadent sound of Phoenix’s laugh floats over my skin like warm satin. “Last time I checked, you can’t learn through osmosis. Even if you do have a photographic memory.”
“Well, you should be able to.”
“You do realize the sooner you read, the sooner you can take an actual nap?”
“I’m tired now .” My head lifts and I catch his gaze. “Any guess as to whose fault that is?”
Because the blame for my state of exhaustion lies firmly in his hands. After all, he’s the one who wrung not one but two orgasms out of me less than twenty minutes ago. He’s lucky my brain is even functioning at this point.
Phoenix drops his pen into the spine of his own textbook, both amusement and annoyance written on his handsome face. “You only have yourself to blame, considering you wouldn’t even let me set my backpack down when I got here before you were stripping my clothes off.”
I sit up and glare. “You agreed we would exchange a study session for sex.”
“I was thinking we’d have sex after studying.” One of his dark brows arch before he adds, “You know, as a reward for you actually doing what you’re supposed to be doing?”
I arch a brow right back, a victorious feeling spiking through my veins. “And why do you think I mauled you the second you walked through the door?”
Phoenix opens his mouth, but he must not have a rebuttal ready since only a moment goes by before he closes it again.
“Gotcha there.” I shoot him a playful wink. “When are you gonna learn, you can’t outwit me?”
I don’t have a chance to think, let alone catch the pen he launches at my chest. It smacks me straight in the pecs, the plastic stinging on impact.
“Ow. Asshole,” I say with a laugh as I rub the spot.
“Aw, poor Holden,” he says dryly, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Do you need me to kiss and rub it to make it all better?”
There’s a hint of desire mixed with the playfulness in his gaze, and it makes my stomach do more cartwheels than the Leighton cheerleading squad. But I play it off and toss the pen back at him. Which he catches.
Damn.
“I’d prefer not to be used like some piece of meat.”
“Seriously, you wanna go there?” He tosses the pen at me again, then reaches into his bag and throws three more. “Do I need to remind you again about which one of us did the jumping when I got here?”
He keeps throwing pens my way and laughing while I shield myself with my textbook from the onslaught of projectiles flying at my face. “Jesus, how many pens do you have?”
He chuckles some more when I peek out from behind the book and tosses two more. “I have a whole bag.”
“Why?”
“Because assholes like you who never come to class prepared always ask to borrow one and then never give it back.” Another pen smacks against the textbook.
“So I have a stockpile now, and apparently it’s coming in very handy for situations when you’re being a dick and the uncontrollable urge to pelt you with them—”
His words cut off when I bolt straight at him from my spot on the sectional.
I land half on him, half on the couch, and I quickly make a grab for his ammunition—ready to take matters into my own hands.
He’s quicker though, and yanks it from my grip, effectively pulling me off the couch to the ground.
After that, it becomes an all-out wrestling match, each of us getting the upper hand for half a second before the other takes control again.
But he doesn’t know I did a little bit of wrestling back in the day, and the second he gives me the right opening, I put him flat on his back with both his wrists in my palms. The only issue is the sudden movement has the bag—and all the pens—flying in every direction.
On instinct, I hunch down over him to cover both our faces as they all fall to the ground around us, not wanting this to literally be one of those it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye moments.
We’re both a little breathless when I lean back enough to look down at him, his wrists still in my hold.
“Well, this is awfully familiar,” I rasp through my panting. “You were saying?”
“You’re crazy. Like, literally lost your mind,” he says, yet the throaty chuckle has me thinking maybe he likes it that way.
“Just a little.” I loosen my hold on him and roll away, landing on my back beside him. “But circling back to me jumping you…in the other way. You know you can always say no.”
“Oh, sure. And I’m also the Queen of England, right?”
“Nix, I’m serious,” I murmur, rolling to my side and propping up on an elbow. “Yeah, I have a high sex drive, but I’m fine. I wouldn’t ever want you to feel pressured.”
His head turns and he gives me a dubious look, brows arched in disbelief. “So if I told you I wanted to stop having sex, you would be fine with that?”
My brows kick up in surprise, not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “Is that…what you want?”
His eyes roll. “No, it’s not. It was a hypothetical.”
I let out a dramatic sigh of relief, and thankfully, he cracks a smile.
“Well, for the record, if you wanted to stop having sex, I’d respect your wishes.” I pause, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “But after what happened earlier? I certainly wouldn’t be happy about it.”
His eyes flare with heat, clearly recalling the way we put those handcuffs he left in my room to good use; first while he took me down his throat until I couldn’t think straight from wanting to touch him, and then when he fucked me mindless after sucking my brains out through my dick.
It was sexy and addictive, but it was insanely fun too, and I think that’s a helluva lot more important.
I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much in bed as I do with him, though that’s probably because we’re constantly bickering and challenging each other. For good reason. It’s a little tricky to keep a straight face when you’re naked and arguing about who gets to suck who’s dick first.
“You’d probably go find someone else to get off with in the meantime, right? Revert back to your slutty ways of one-night stands and meaningless sex?”
The words come out with all the snarkiness and sarcasm I’ve come to expect from him, and usually, I’d toss it right back to him in kind. But there’s something in his eyes that gives him away. Like he thinks it’s actually a possibility.
As if he hasn’t completely flipped my entire world upside down.
“In the past, yeah. Maybe I would have. But I really hope you’re starting to realize I’m true to my word,” I murmur, my hand reaching out and brushing through the silken brown locks on his head.
But the heaviness of the conversation is a bit too much, so I make an effort to lighten the mood.
“Because, believe me, Nix, you’re the only one I’m interested in getting naked with. ”
He laughs, another one of those genuine ones, and my heart stumbles in my chest.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he says, rolling over to mirror my position. “I was getting really worried there for a second.”
I smirk, the sarcasm lacing his tone now back in spades.
My level of comfort around him has increased dramatically over the past few weeks, and it’s showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Even in the silence—like right now—there’s a sense of calm and familiarity I’ve begun to crave when he’s not around.
Which, truthfully, isn’t all that often anymore.
My free hand reaches out on impulse, coasting up and down his arm. I feel his eyes locked on my face while my fingers dance over his skin, tracing the network of veins beneath the surface.
“Since we’re on the subject of one-night stands,” I murmur, focusing on the heat of his skin beneath my touch, “Was I the last person you slept with? Before Florida happened, I mean?”
“Are you gonna judge me if I say yes?”
“I definitely could since you love judging me about my sex life.” A soft smile forms on my lips as I gaze at him. “But no, not at all.”
“You were,” he says slowly, his nose scrunching up a little before he asks, “Am I that out of practice for it to be obvious, or—”
“Absolutely not,” I cut in, not daring to let him even entertain that idea. “I promise, you’re not.”
“Then what made you ask?”
I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “You know all about my promiscuity, so I just wanted a little insight into yours.”
He lets out a long, deep sigh. “Well, I was dating this one guy for about six months last school year, but he broke things off at the end of April because he ‘wasn’t feeling it anymore.’” He does little air quotes around his ex’s words before continuing. “Besides him, there was only you.”
The revelation of being one of two people to have him this way is intoxicating, but I’m more interested in the timeline he just laid out for me.
“So it seems I wasn’t the only one looking for an escape that night.” My hand halts over top of his, and I lace our fingers together.
“You’d be right,” he whispers, his thumb brushing over the back of mine before he meets my eyes. “And before you even ask, no, I’m not gonna tell you what happened.”
Damn.
“Are you ever gonna tell me?”
“Maybe one day. In the far-off, distant future.”
I shove him away from me and laugh. “Jackass.”
“Gotta keep you interested somehow,” he says with a sexy little wink.
“Oh, you’ve already got that covered, Nix.” A smirk curls the corner of my mouth. “So unless your relationship with fuck-knuckles started the same way, I was your first one-night stand?”
He nods, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. “First and only.”
Somehow, that fact fills me with pride. No matter how misplaced it might be.
“Well, you’re the only blackout hook-up I’ve had, so I guess we both had firsts together that night.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never blacked out with anyone besides me?” He raises a disbelieving brow. “Seriously? With how much you sleep around?”
“There’s that judgy tone again,” I say with a laugh. “You might be worse than Oakley. And for the record, I’m not nearly as bad as everyone makes me out to be. I just have rules.”
Had, a little voice reminds me. You had rules.
They don’t really exist anymore, seeing as Phoenix came into my life and blew every single one of them outta the water. He can’t even be classified as a one-night stand anymore unless we’re talking about how epically it failed to be just a single night.
Or how I failed to remember it.
“I just don’t get it.” He disengages his fingers from mine and takes his turn mapping the veins in my arm. “So it’s not so much judgment as not understanding.”
“There’s not a whole lot to misinterpret about the hook-up culture, Nix,” I point out.
“I just don’t get how you can have all these meaningless flings.
My brain can’t comprehend how it’s enjoyable for you, sleeping with random people at any given time.
” His attention flicks up to my face briefly before he continues.
“Wouldn’t you rather sleep with the same person a ton, especially if you have good chemistry with them? Quality over quantity kinda thing?”
“Spoken like a true serial monogamist.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip the way it does when he’s both focused and anxious. I hate knowing this situation is probably the latter.
“I’m being serious,” he whispers.
“So am I.” I reach up and brush my thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it free from where his teeth have captured it.
“And yeah, quality over quantity is a very valid point. It’s one of the many, many reasons why I agreed to do this your way.
Because the way we are together…” I trail off, not having the words to describe what it’s like.
It exceeds everything I’ve ever known before him.
“Yeah, I get it,” he says before pressing a kiss to the pad of my thumb. “Even if I don’t understand how this happened, I know what you mean.”
“It’s because, deep down, you like me,” I tease. “You really like me.”
“At this moment, I really fucking don’t.”
I hike up a brow. “Oh, if that’s the case, then why did I come out of class to a duck on my driver’s side handle?”
He blinks at me, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You and your little Jeep cult can do your own thing, but I want no part of it.”
“Really? That’s the story you wanna go with?”
“Yeah…” he says slowly.
Oh, you’re so full of shit.
I shift to dig my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.
It doesn’t take more than three seconds to swipe open my photos and find the image of the little duck left on my vehicle today.
It’s a little white duck wearing a leather vest with an orange mohawk on its head and barbed wire tattoos on each of its wings.
And while it’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen, I’d be a bold-faced liar if I said finding it today didn’t give me the biggest smile.
Flipping my phone screen to face him, I say, “You’re gonna tell me some random ass person happened to have this duck on hand to put on my Jeep? And it has nothing to do with us going to see Icarus a couple weeks ago?”
Phoenix bites his lip as he looks at the screen before shrugging. “Nope. Not me. But maybe they saw Jerry and thought he needed a friend.”
“Mhmm,” I mutter, watching his features closely before pocketing my phone again. “I’m sure that’s exactly what they were thinking.”
“I’d bet my life on it,” he simply states, but I don’t miss the little twinkle in his brown irises or how they crinkle just a little more around the edges when he smiles.
It’s always his eyes that give him away.