Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
PRESTON
Sawyer takes me home. He keeps his arm around me the entire time and never lets go. Not until he settles me on the couch in our living room and tucks a blanket around me.
“Want something to drink?”
I shake my head, hugging my knees to my chest.
“I’ll get you some water anyway.” He leaves me and even though he only goes into the kitchen, I feel so much colder and more alone when he’s not touching me.
Sawyer brings back a glass of water for me and a beer for himself. The second he sits down, I burrow under his arm and plaster myself to his side. He holds me to him, nose buried in my hair.
My eyes drift shut as I breathe him in, minty and fresh, like toothpaste. It’s familiar and comforting and safe.
Sawyer takes a swig of his beer, then after a moment of silence, he asks in a quiet voice, “Pres?”
I hum and nestle in closer.
“Can you tell me what happened? Before you came to the gym?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how. I was at school, going to my office, and Fitz was talking to me. He said he really liked Sawyer, that they had something special. But I don’t want Sawyer to have something special with Fitz. I want Sawyer to have something special with me.
How do I say that? How do I explain that I want to keep Sawyer to myself? That I don’t want to share him? It’s selfish and unfair, but it’s what I want.
“You were with Fitz?” Sawyer prompts.
I nod.
“Were you talking?” Sawyer combs his fingers through my hair. It’s rhythmic and relaxing and I melt into him.
“Yeah.”
“What were you talking about?”
“He wanted to tell me that—” The words catch in my throat. I don’t want to say it out loud. It feels too real that way.
“What did he want to tell you?”
I’m already pressed as close as I can get to Sawyer’s side, but it isn’t close enough. I toss off the blanket and throw my knee over Sawyer’s lap so I’m straddling him like I was back at the gym.
It’s better this way, with my whole front flush against his, my arms wrapped around his body, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. It’s better, but nowhere near enough. I want to be inside Sawyer, and I want him inside me. I want us so close I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
Startled, Sawyer doesn’t react right away. But then he sighs and settles his arms around me. He rubs my back and brushes his fingers through my hair.
“You’re mine,” I murmur into Sawyer’s neck. “He can’t have you.”
The only indication he hears me is the slight pause in the run of his hand over my back. It takes Sawyer a few long minutes to respond, but when he does, he clears his throat. “I’m all yours. No one’s taking me away, promise.”
Sawyer’s promise sinks into me, reassuring and comforting, and yet, there’s still a seed of doubt deep inside my amygdala. Am I enough for Sawyer? Can I actually give him everything he needs? I’m not cool like Fitz. I’m not charming and easy-going. Will Sawyer be satisfied with just me?
“Is that what the kiss was about?” Sawyer asks. “You’re afraid I’ll leave you?”
I nod and hug him tighter, like I can physically keep him with me by never letting go.
“Oh, Pres.” Sawyer sighs and presses a kiss into my hair. “You don’t need to kiss me to make me stay.” His voice is rough and low, almost growly.
I tilt my head back and peer up at him. There’s a furrow in his brow and his lips are pressed tightly together, turned down at the corners. He looks like he’s upset but he doesn’t want me to know. Like maybe I’ve upset him and he doesn’t want me to blame myself.
But I do. Sawyer’s been my rock for so long. He takes care of me and protects me. He’s my safe place, my happy place. He gives so much of himself to me, and what have I given him in return?
I rack my hippocampus and come up with nothing. I make him worry. He feels responsible for me. But have I brought anything positive to our friendship? Or do I just take?
That’s wrong. How did I not notice until now? How did I not see how uneven and lopsided our friendship is? I want to fix it. I need to fix it.
“What if I want to kiss you?” The question slips out, formed more by my subconscious than the Broca’s area of my brain. The moment it’s voiced, though, the desire to kiss him again overwhelms me.
Back at Mars, I wasn’t thinking when I launched myself at him. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, like it was the only option in light of my tumultuous emotions.
The instant my lips touched Sawyer’s, I froze, partially out of shock and partially because I wasn’t sure what came next. The only other person I’ve ever kissed was Madison and she always took the lead.
Then Sawyer kissed me back, and it was absolutely nothing like the kisses I shared with Madison. Those were mechanical, merely physical movements that never held much appeal. I never understood why everyone is so obsessed with kissing. It’s just smooshing lips together. What’s the big deal?
Until Sawyer. Kissing Sawyer isn’t just smooshing lips together.
It’s… transcendent, magical, otherworldly.
I felt the kiss from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
My internal temperature skyrocketed and I burst into flames.
When our tongues touched, it was like a lightning strike shot through me and left me burned and sizzling in its wake.
Kissing Sawyer brought me to life like nothing else ever has. And I want to do it again.
Sawyer makes a strangled sound. “You do?” he croaks.
I nod, then slowly slide my hands up his chest, up his neck, and cradle his face between my palms. “I do.”
Sawyer’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Bu—but, why?”
I tilt my head at his odd question. “Because it feels good.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows rise. “It does?”
“Yeah.” I brush my thumb over his lips. They’re so soft, a fascinating contrast to the scruff on his chin and cheeks.
“Bu—but, I’m a guy.”
I drag my gaze from his lips back to his eyes. Blue and green swirl in a hypnotic dance. Of course he’s a guy. What kind of statement is that? Did Sawyer hit his head? Does he have a concussion I’m unaware of?
“I know.”
“You aren’t supposed to like guys… right?”
I’m not? I’ve never thought about it before. I didn’t realize it was something I was supposed to think about, that I needed an answer to. I’ve never liked anyone before, not in the way other people seem to like each other.
I liked Madison because she was there and our parents wanted us to be together and I didn’t have a fundamental objection to it. But that fuzzy, warm, obsessive feeling people talk about? I never felt that for Madison and certainly never for anyone else.
Except maybe Sawyer? I do feel warm and fuzzy when I’m with him. I miss him when I don’t see him all day. I’m obviously a little possessive when it appears someone might steal him from me. Is this what everyone’s always going on about?
Do I like Sawyer? Like, like like him?
“I… don’t know? Does it matter?” I ask.
Sawyer’s jaw drops and he looks like he wants to say yes. “I guess it doesn’t?”
The fact that Sawyer’s a guy seems moot to me. My feelings toward him don’t really have anything to do with his gender. He’s my best friend. He takes care of me. He makes me feel safe. Would I still feel this way if he was a girl? Maybe? I don’t know, and I don’t think I care.
“I still want to kiss you,” I say, refusing to be distracted from my goal. “Is that okay?”
Sawyer studies me, focusing so intently on my face I want to duck away and hide. I’m not much to look at and I don’t know what he’s searching for.
“Just kissing?” Sawyer’s voice is hoarse again. “Or more?”
Hmm, that’s a good question. I’ve done more than kissing with Madison, but again, that was because she wanted to. I was pretty indifferent. With Sawyer, though? If kissing Sawyer was so good, maybe doing more will feel even better?
“Maybe?”
Sawyer nods stiffly, then clears his throat, which turns into a small coughing fit. “Sorry.” He thumps his chest with his fist. “Um, how about we stick to just kissing? For now?”
He adds the last part quickly when he sees my reaction. My disappointment must have shown on my face. It was never a concern before, but now that he’s brought it up, I definitely want to try more than kissing. But I can settle for just kissing… for now.
“Okay,” I agree. “Can we start now?”
Sawyer’s Adam’s apple bobs again. “Mmhmm,” he hums squeakily.
I lean in, pausing before we make contact. Last time, I was so preoccupied, so stuck in my head I didn’t fully appreciate the feel of Sawyer’s lips on mine. This time, I want to feel every second of it, I want to catalog every sensation.
Sawyer lets out a breath, the hot air washing over my chin, smelling wheaty and hoppy from his beer. He tilts his chin like an invitation for me to drink from his lips. And suddenly, I’m parched.
I close the remaining distance, and the instant my lips touch his, heat unfurls in me.
My lips tingle. A shiver runs down my spine.
An ache settles in my groin, and the only way to alleviate it is to add pressure and friction.
My hips push forward and a moan escapes my throat as Sawyer’s hard, flat stomach provides a surface for me to grind against. The relief is so immense it feels like my bones are melting. But reprieve is only temporary.
Sawyer nips at my mouth, catching my bottom lip lightly between his. Pleasure shoots through me, increasing the tightness in my groin faster than I can relieve it.
Sawyer tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me firmly into his lap. A bulge digs into my ass and my entire bottom half clenches with a desire I’ve never felt before.
I’m overheating. Everything’s sensitive. I’m full to bursting and yet so empty at the same time. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to satisfy the ache.
“Sawyer, please,” I plead, clutching at him as I rub myself over his body.
He growls and then I’m flying through the air. But Sawyer’s hold on me is solid and sure, and he lowers me gently onto the couch. He presses me into the cushions, and his hips push my thighs wide. His weight is deliciously heavy, trapping me underneath him.
The bulge I felt in Sawyer’s lap is now flush against the ache in my groin. It’s my penis, I realize, it’s erect because I’m aroused. Which means the bulge in Sawyer’s joggers must be his penis, also erect because he’s aroused.
By me. Because of me. I’m doing that to him. I’m the cause of his arousal. The knowledge curls through me like liquid fire, spiking my temperature until I’m feverish.
Sawyer’s mouth is hot, too, where it slants over mine. His tongue snakes over and around mine and the appendage seems to reach so much farther than just my mouth. I swear I feel it all the way down my throat, down to my stomach, where it’s stirring everything up, turning me inside out.
I grasp at Sawyer, whimpering and writhing with a need I don’t know how to express. “Hot.” That’s the only coherent word I can produce.
“Hot. Hot. Hot,” I mumble around Sawyer’s tongue, then against his mouth.
He props himself onto his hands and I use the space he’s created to tear at my shirt.
My fingers are clammy and tingly, and there are so many damn buttons with such tiny holes.
I can’t stand another second of this heat, so I grab the two sides of my shirt and rip them apart.
Buttons fly everywhere, landing silently on the couch and area rug.
Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up and his bruised, red lips form a perfect O before he breaks out in laughter. “Sure, that’s one way to do it.”
“I’m so hot,” I whine, struggling to get the shirt off.
“Yeah, you really are.” Sawyer’s eyes twinkle. He must feel the heat radiating off me. He sits back onto his heels, still between my thighs, giving me more room to maneuver. “Here, let me help.”
He’s so practiced at undressing me he’s probably better at it than I am. It’s only mildly cooler with the skin of my upper body exposed directly to the air. Maybe our thermostat needs to be adjusted? My hands go to the buttons of my pants.
Sawyer’s still wearing his zipped Mars Fitness hoodie.
“Aren’t you hot?” I ask as I lever my hips up to push my pants down.
“Uh…” Sawyer lifts my legs so they point straight up and then helps me tug my pants off. He grabs my ankles and strips my socks off too. “I, uh, I guess I’m a little overdressed?”
My feet drop to either side of his hips and I don’t bother waiting for him. I reach for the zipper of his hoodie and yank it all the way down.
“Yep. Okay. Guess that’s going.” Sawyer shrugs it off and throws it to the floor with my clothes. His Mars t-shirt stretches across his chest, his shoulders. It hugs his torso all the way down to his hips. I can see his nipples poking through the fabric.
And suddenly I’m gripped with the need to see them in the flesh. I need to see their dusky pink hue. I need to feel their pebbled stiffness under my fingertips. I need the broad expanse of Sawyer’s bare chest dragging across my own.
I tug on the hem of his shirt, but it’s too tight for me to make any headway.
“I got it.” Sawyer crosses his arms, his hands grab the hem at either hip, and in one fluid motion, he rolls the shirt all the way off.
He hops quickly to his feet to push down his joggers, revealing blue boxers with purple and pink polka dots.
They’re bright and fun and such a contrast to the plain black briefs I’ve got on.
I settle my hands on his hips when he climbs back between my legs. My thumbs graze across his abdomen, right above the waistband of his boxers, and Sawyer sucks in a breath.
I glance at him. His one hand is curled into a fist at his side and his other is crushing the back cushions of the couch.
“Is this okay?” I ask and when he nods, I flatten my hand against his stomach. He’s burning up too, his skin scorching hot under my touch. I can feel the rapid pace of his breathing and when I slide my hand up his chest, his heart beats in a frantic rhythm against my palm.
Sawyer covers my hand with his own and when I look up, our gazes collide. The impact drives the air from my lungs and there’s only one remedy that will get me breathing again.
Sawyer. Only Sawyer.