Fifteen
Fifteen
It’s the sunlight filtering through the window that wakes me the next morning. My head feels like it’s about to explode, my eyes are burning, and my stomach is still tied in knots. This is what a hangover feels like, apparently.
I look around and run a hand through my hair, overwhelmed with anxiety.
Damn it, this can’t be happening! The little voice in my head suggests that there is only one thing to do: run away. What could I have been thinking? All of this happened because I wanted it to happen. But damn, did I ever take it too far. One-night stands are not for me. And a one-night stand with Thomas Collins is especially not for me. It’s much better for my dignity if I leave before he wakes up, otherwise he’ll have to kick me out himself. And that would be too humiliating to bear.
Cautiously, I slide the muscular arm off my belly and stand up. In doing so, I feel some very annoying twinges in my lower abdomen. They must be the result of Thomas taking me with such wild abandon last night. I touch my belly and I can almost hear the echo of my ecstatic gasps.
I tiptoe around the room looking for something to wear, but I find only Thomas’s boxers and his black T-shirt on the floor. I’m not sure where in the house to look for my clothes. On the other hand, I do find my bag with my phone inside. Thank goodness. At least I can call Tiffany and ask her to bring me a clean change of clothes.
I try to turn it on but it shows no signs of life. The battery is dead. I can’t believe this. And I also have to get out of here in a hurry if I want to get to campus in time for my reading group! According to the alarm clock on the nightstand, it’s already after eight o’clock. I stick my phone back inside my bag and, unintentionally, I knock a penholder off the desk. The clamor wakes Thomas.
“What…what are you doing?” he mumbles in a voice thick with sleep.
“Where are my clothes?” In one sudden movement, I pick up his black shirt and slip it on, hiding my naked body.
“You going somewhere?” He sits up and rubs his eyes. My gaze drops to his tensed abdominals, the triangle of his pelvic area barely covered by the sheet, above which I glimpse a slim trail of hair. I swallow and bite my lip, trying to ignore the strange sensations that this vision triggers in me.
“To campus,” I reply, trying to play it cool. “I have my first book club meeting in forty-five minutes, and I’m stuck here, with no clothes and no memories!” What did he think? That I was going to stay here with him and let him take me for another ride? Take me for a ride? What the hell am I talking about?
“Your clothes are in the wash. After the strip poker, they were in bad shape.”
Strip…strip poker? The little voice in my head suggests I not ask any follow-up questions, because I will regret it.
“So how do I get out of here? I can’t go to campus dressed like this.” I look down at his shirt.
“Why not? It’s a lot better than those faux-innocent clothes you usually wear,” he taunts me.
“I am not faux-innocent!” I retort acidly.
“Oh, but you are. I got proof of that last night, when you got brutally fucked by yours truly and absolutely loved it.” He gives me a satisfied grin and another image rises out of my memory: Thomas taking me from behind, with my hair clenched in his fist, spanking my ass as I begged him to continue. “I suspected that behind that angel facade of yours there was a hidden kinky side. And the idea that you brought it out just for me”—he pauses, full of mischief—“it gets me so fucking hot.” He lets his hand trail between his legs without the slightest hint of shame. Meanwhile, my cheeks are on fire.
“Y-you’re delusional. I don’t have a kinky side. I was just drunk and depressed.” I pull down the hem of his shirt, trying to cover as much of my legs as possible.
“You didn’t seem very depressed when you came while screaming my name.” He chuckles. “I still have scratches from your nails on my back.”
I take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. I try to shake off the devouring sense of shame. Enough. It’s time to put an end to this drama.
“What happened last night must never happen again. More importantly, it needs to stay inside these four walls, forever,” I threaten. It was a mistake. It was all just a terrible mistake. I mean, it’s Thomas Collins we are talking about here. I have no desire to be one of his conquests. The alcohol must have removed all my inhibitions because nothing I did last night with him is me.
“We fucked, Vanessa. Don’t make a big deal out of it. You’ll have forgotten it by tomorrow.” He heaves an exhausted sigh before taking a pack of Marlboros out of the nightstand drawer. He sets an ashtray on one thigh and brings a cigarette to his lips before lighting it.
“Well, I’m glad we agree,” I say, clearing my throat and forcing myself to change the subject. “Anyway…I didn’t know you belonged to this fraternity.” I look around skeptically.
“I’m a man of many surprises.” He smiles wryly.
“I don’t understand. I thought you were living in the dorms.”
“Not much to understand. I’m part of Sigma Beta, but I don’t have to live here. I prefer to stay at the dorms during the week because it’s quieter.”
“But isn’t a frat brother supposed to live with the others? I mean, aren’t there meetings, services to be rendered, tests to pass, and all that crap?” I sit at the foot of the bed.
“The only obligation I have toward this fraternity is to attend the parties,” he explains, exhaling a plume of smoke.
“How come?”
Thomas sighs, annoyed by my chatter. “Because, somehow, my presence at a party guarantees the participation of certain students who matter.”
“I still don’t understand. Why do you spend the weekend here?”
“Because, I can have fun here however I want,” he says cheekily.
“So this is basically…your personal harem?” I ask, disgusted.
“Something like that. My roommate is a real pain-in-the-ass nerd. He doesn’t like having women in the dorm because they agitate him or some other bullshit. Last time, he just stood in front of the door to my room until Sarah and Denise left.” He shakes the ash from his cigarette and adds, “Right at the best part too.”
“You were having sex with two women while your roommate was standing right outside your door?”
He nods, as though that were the most normal thing in the world.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?”
He gives me an accusatory look. “And you’re a hypocrite.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“You say I’m disgusting for fucking two girls with my roommate outside the door. But last night, you let me fuck you with an entire frat party downstairs.”
I am frozen for a few seconds, staring at him and unsuccessfully trying to find a reasonable retort. “That’s…not the same thing,” I say simply. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.” I rub my temples, trying to chase away the negative thoughts.
“Knock it off with all the recriminations, you’re getting annoying,” he hisses impatiently.
“Easy for you to say. You must have been in this situation a million times, but for me this is new territory! It’s not easy for me to wake up in a stranger’s room and discover that I’ve had sex with him merely hours after ending things with my boyfriend,” I exclaim. “Ex-boyfriend,” I add, correcting myself.
Thomas frowns at me and puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. When he releases the last plume of smoke into the air, I scrunch my nose at the harsh, pungent smell. “Whatever. If you’re just going to keep busting my balls, I’m going to take a shower.”
I get up, slip on the underwear I found on the chair, and tie my hair up into a tousled bun. “I’d like to take one myself, if you don’t mind.”
He frowns, before giving me one of his irritating little smiles. “You angling for an invitation?”
“What?” I look at him confused. It takes me a moment to understand.
“No! I-I meant alone. I need to shower, alone.”
Thomas slips out of bed in all his nude, sculpted-marble glory. “Relax, stranger, you’re too nervous,” he says, trying to hide a smile. As he heads for the bathroom, the muscles in his backside contract with every step and I gasp at the mere thought of having touched, kissed and, yes, scratched every part of that body. His shoulders, his hips and even his buttocks are marked with small pink scrapes.
“W-what do I do for clothes?” I ask, dashing after him. He turns around and I almost crash into his chest. I feel his naked member brush against my belly, but I force myself not to show any embarrassment. Although judging by the cheeky smile he is suppressing, I think he is already aware of it.
“You can find something in the top drawer.” He points to a dark wooden dresser upon which rests the latest generation of television. I hear the shower running as I open the first drawer. Suddenly, I am faced with a cavalcade of bras and panties.
“What the hell is this?” I scream, disgusted.
“Clothes left behind by girls I’ve fucked,” he answers from under the shower. I imagine him laughing smugly.
I slam the drawer closed with a disdainful sneer before heading for the bathroom.
“You must have completely lost your mind, if you really think that I am going to wear any of these…garments!” I yell at the fogged-up door of the shower. Thomas stops the water, steps out of the shower, and, for the second time within five minutes, proudly shows me his entire naked body. He seems to derive some kind of sick pleasure from making me uncomfortable.
Asshole.
I should turn away, cover my eyes, or tell him to cover himself, but I don’t do any of that. I just stand there staring at him, dumbfounded, with my cheeks blazing like some stupid schoolgirl.
Fortunately, Thomas decides to put me out of my misery and wraps a towel around his waist. Then he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, and approaches me. I back away until my back hits the wall, stuck between it and him. He takes my face in his hands and caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “I knew you weren’t going to wear them,” he whispers, just a few inches from my face. He tilts my cheek and presses his mouth to the base of my neck. “I just really wanted to see your pissed-off kitten reaction,” he breathes against my skin, before lapping a portion of it with his tongue and finally biting down, making me quiver beneath him.
“T-Thomas…” I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut.
With one hand he begins stroking my thigh, then moves up over my belly, until he reaches my breast. He covers it with his palm and I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look with my shirt on, your hair pulled up like this and your eyes all clouded with pleasure?” he says in a low voice, wedging me more firmly between him and the wall and squeezing my breasts tightly until my nipples stiffen in his hands. A soft moan escapes me, which I try to stifle by biting my lip. “I could take you right here, against this wall, couldn’t I? Give you a good reason never to wear anything else…”
My breathing becomes shorter, almost labored, and a familiar feeling of warmth spreads between my thighs. It seems that, after last night, my body has developed some sort of erotic Pavlovian response to Thomas. And now, every time he gets near me, brushes against me or touches me, every fiber of my being vibrates with pure desire for him. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and squeezes it vigorously, lifting me a few inches and wringing another moan of excitement out of me. He bites my earlobe, and the muscles of my abdomen contract, turning me frozen and docile. Is it possible that he is attracted to me enough to make me his again?
The idea makes me a little proud, but also reminds me that we cannot do anything like that again. Which is why, when his mouth draws perilously close to mine, I find myself compelled to put my palms on his damp chest. “Stop…” I was hoping for a more decisive tone, but the tremor in my voice betrays me. Thomas, in any case, shows that he has much more self-control than I do and steps back, putting the appropriate distance between our bodies.
With ragged breathing and nipples that peak sharply against the fabric of his T-shirt, I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear.
“You okay, Ness? You seem a little…hot,” he teases me with a sly little smile.
I give him a sharp look but then my gaze falls on his neck and I start. Did I leave hickeys on him? And did he leave any on me?
I turn immediately to the mirror and realize that the answer to that question is a resounding yes. Freaked out, I bring a hand to my neck.
“That’s not the only one,” he says mischievously.
My eyes widen. “W-what do you mean?”
Thomas looks me up and down in a satisfied sort of way before winking and leaving the bathroom. I examine my entire body in a frenzy and, sure enough, I find one under my collarbone on the right side, one near my breast, a third on my abdomen, and yet another on my inner thigh. Oh my God.
I join him in the room. “Was that really necessary?”
“I like to leave my mark,” he replies calmly, rubbing his hair with a towel. “Anyway, the underwear in that drawer is actually my sister’s. Some of her clothes are in the closet too. She lived here in the frat house for a year, in the room next door, and she still hasn’t finished taking all her stuff to her dorm on campus,” he says, pointing to the wardrobe behind me. I turn to the closet and start looking for something comfortable among Leila’s clothes. For pants, I find some skinny jeans that fit pretty well, but I have a harder time finding a top because of my larger bust size. Leila’s shirts are all too tight on me, and I don’t feel comfortable wearing them.
I turn to Thomas, hoping he can help me, and find he’s facing away from me. He is pulling on some black jeans before turning his attention to his sneakers. My gaze lingers on his bare back, muscular and fully tattooed, before sliding to his side, where I notice a scar about two inches across. All of a sudden, I remember touching that part of him, and how he stiffened up and moved me away from that area.
“What are you looking at?” He frowns, catching me in the act.
I gasp. “N-nothing, I was just wondering… I mean, that scar looks pretty deep… How did it happen?”
His face hardens, and I instantly regret not having been able to keep my curiosity at bay.
“None of your damn business,” he says shortly, putting on a white T-shirt.
I’m still dumbfounded. “Oh. Yeah, of course, I didn’t mean to—” I hesitate. “Sorry,” I mutter finally.
I turn around, with my back to him, and pretend to rummage through the wardrobe. I don’t like Angry Thomas; it’s somehow even more unnerving than the regular cocky one. Shortly thereafter, I hear footsteps approaching and his scent surrounds me. “Did you find something?” he asks abruptly, darting a quick look at me.
“I found some jeans, but no luck with the shirt. Leila is smaller than me.” I avoid looking him in the face because I still feel uncomfortable.
“Then keep mine.”
“What?” I look at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t go to campus wearing your shirt.”
“No one’s gonna know it’s mine,” he says in a calming tone.
I think about it for a moment, but I don’t have many other options. This is the perfect epilogue for this insane adventure.
“Okay, but now I’d like to take a shower. Could you give me five minutes?” He frowns, seemingly not understanding what I’m saying. “I’m not going to get into the shower knowing that you’re around and could burst in at any moment,” I say, pointing out the obvious.
Thomas rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “What am I gonna see that I haven’t already seen?”
There he goes again, reveling in my discomfort. Bastard. Resigned, I don’t insist and instead go to take a quick shower.
When I come out, I find him leaning against his desk intently typing something on his phone. I still have ten minutes before my meeting with the reading group. That’s not much time, but I can make it if I hurry. I quickly put on my combat boots and Tiffany’s leather jacket, which Thomas has recovered from the living room. I grab my bag and one of Leila’s scarves to hide the hickey. Thomas, meanwhile, stuffs his jacket pockets with his phone, keys, and pack of Marlboros.
As we walk through the hallways and down the stairs of the house, I gather from the cups left on the floor, the empty bottles and joint ends littered here and there, that last night must have been a huge blowout. Arriving downstairs, I see a group of guys sprawled out sleeping on couches, armchairs, and floors. We pass them and head for the front door.
I close the door behind me and let out a huge sigh of relief. Finally, I can put this whole thing behind me. “Um…well, thank you for the shower and for…you know, yeah, all the rest…” I bite my lip, embarrassed. Telling a person thank you after having sex is not ideal, but I know he doesn’t expect anything else from me.
“You mean thanks for the mind-blowing orgasm I gave you last night?” He quirks a corner of his mouth cheekily. “Don’t mention it. Whenever you want another one, you know where to find me.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t hold back a smile. “You’re an idiot as always. See you, Thomas.” I walk down the steps of the porch and onto the sidewalk, heading for the campus library. He continues to walk beside me. He lights a cigarette, slips the Ray-Bans off his head, and puts them on.
I give him a sideways look. “Um…what are you doing?”
“Walking,” he says resolutely, apparently heedless of the stares he’s getting from some of the female students as we pass them. I, on the other hand, cannot ignore the nasty glares or the suggestive looks from the boys. Fortunately, campus is sparsely populated on Saturdays. To avoid giving the wrong impression, I move a little away from Thomas. I don’t want to be seen as some naive little girl who fell into his clutches.
“Are you… Are you headed for some extracurricular too?”
“To the dorm.” He puffs out a cloud of smoke around his head.
“Is it really necessary for you to walk beside me?”
“We’re going in the same direction, Ness.”
“People are looking at us, Thomas,” I point out to him in annoyance.
He takes a quick look around before turning his attention back to me. “So?”
“They might get the wrong idea about the two of us, they might think…”
“That we fucked?” he finishes my sentence. “Do you think we’re the only ones doing it?” He chuckles, dismissing my discomfort.
“I don’t care what other people do, I care what they think of me.”
“And what do you think they think of you?” he asks.
“They look at me like I’m your new little slut.”
Thomas stops suddenly, as if I had just slapped him in the face. His smile fades, leaving a different expression. Almost disappointed.
“If you were really my slut, they wouldn’t notice you at all. So stop it with this bullshit.”
Go tell that to my conscience, which is making me feel so dirty. I’m even afraid of what my friends will say when they find out that I wasted no time in throwing myself into someone else’s bed right after I broke up with my ex.
“There are some things that a person like you could never understand,” I say simply, before I leave.