22
Thursday, June 26 th
Lexi
The Ferris Research Lab is quiet tonight, but despite the calm, my head is a thunderstorm of swirling thoughts, every single one of them centered on the one man with whom I’ve been spending all my free time.
Stolen moments, secret kisses, and nights spent wrapped up in each other’s arms, the past six days with Blake have been a whirlwind.
The fact that I’ve managed to keep up with some of my normal routine at all is something I attribute entirely to his obligations to the football team since he can’t be texting, chasing, or sexing me when he’s there.
When he’s Blue 42’ing, I’m in the lab. Though, I admit, I’ve spent more time dissecting the way Blake makes me feel than I have obsessing over the microscopic details within the algorithms in my dissertation test app. And given how hard I’ve worked for this PhD up until now, that’s…terrifying.
At least, it should be.
I should be fighting, running, pulling away. Instead, I’m consumed.
On Monday and Tuesday, I adjusted my usual lab routine to his practice schedules just so we would have more time together. On Wednesday, I skipped the lab altogether so we could go to the Bronx Zoo and dinner afterward.
We haven’t had actual sex yet— even if I’ve tried valiantly to convince him we should —and yet, I’m giving him nuclear-level energy. It’s the antithesis of everything I know myself for.
It’s boy craziness , and for the first time in my twenty-five years, I truly understand the term.
The Blake Boden Experiment app—the one I fondly named Polarize —of course, continues to support the mental lapse. In the last seven runs, it’s yet to produce a result with anything under ninety-eight percent viability of our opposites attracting.
My phone buzzes on the desk, pulling me out of my recycled thoughts. Unfortunately for my dalliance with overconsumption, the sender only adds to the problem.
Blake Boden: Just finished weight training. I’m starving. Thinking I might eat you for dinner.
A blush creeps up my cheeks as I quickly type back a response.
Me: I’m at the lab. A little busy.
I’m not busy with anything but Blake-centric pet projects, clearly, but he doesn’t need to know that. Pretty sure, actually, that’s data I need to keep to myself.
Blake Boden: I could come to the lab and enjoy my meal there…
My fingers hover over the screen as memories of the night we did a lot of dirty somethings in the chem lab down the hall flood my mind. The warmth of his mouth paradoxed by the cold of the lab table underneath. The sureness of his tongue and his hands and his confidence, intertwined with the danger of being discovered at any moment. It was romancelandia-level fantasy at its highest form—and yet, it was just that: fantasy. And right now, I want real.
The smell of Blake’s things and the feel of his bed and the opportunity to wake up there, drugged with exhaustion from being together all night in the morning.
Not to mention, risking Dr. Blevin or someone else walking in on us while we’re right in the middle of getting to know each other isn’t exactly a calculated risk. It’s garish and unnecessary, and my practical side knows it.
Me: I’ll meet you at your place. Be there in 30 minutes or so.
Blake Boden: I’ll see you soon, Lexi Lou.
I catch myself smiling at his use of my nickname and shake my head over my own ridiculousness as I start gathering my things to leave. I’m eager and overtly peppy in the most disgusting of simple ways.
The lab door swings open, and Ginger strides in, her arms full of papers and her hair tied up in a messy bun. She smiles at the sight of me and charges dead ahead, freezing my hands mid-reach for my bag.
It’s painfully obvious what she’s here for, and it isn’t the computers.
Without saying a word, she drops a newspaper onto the table beside my bag with a flick of her wrist, settling her free hand on her hip. “Oh, Lexi Winslow,” she crows, her voice on sublet from Ricky Ricardo. “You have some ’splainin’ to do.”
I glance at the paper for context clues before offering an explanation for every transgression I’ve ever committed, but all I find on the front page is an article on inflation, based on what I’m sure are amateur-hour economics. I immediately scrunch up my nose. “You want me to dissect the current state of the economy and whether inflation is going to lead us into a recession or not?”
Ginger tsks her lips and bends over the table diligently, flipping the paper to the sports section, and there, staring back at me, is my Blake’s handsome face. It’s a full-page spread, with several flattering photos of him both in action and on the sidelines in focus, and it highlights his importance in the upcoming season if the Dragons are going to have a chance of winning a championship this year.
“Boy, he looks familiar,” Ginger muses, tapping the photo with a knowing smile. “Almost as if he’s the same Blake you’ve been hanging out with.”
I feel my stomach drop as I scan the article, the warring of pride and prejudice the likes of which even Jane Austen herself hasn’t seen. Blake is an incredible, accomplished, talented football player—the spitting image of everything I said I’d never date.
“He does sort of look like him,” I say weakly, my joke both pervasive and cagey. Ginger bursts into laughter.
“Girl! He is him! You know it, and I know it!” she exclaims, her laughter filling the empty lab. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your Blake is the I Ching of Dickson University. According to this article, he could fight a cobra, score a touchdown, and explain to you in great detail how he did it all at once.”
“In my defense, I think you’re the only person on campus who doesn’t know who he is.”
Ginger waves a dismissive hand, nonplussed. “I live in the lab, Lexi, just like you. But you’re dating the guy The New York Times is raving about, and I’d say that’s worth pulling my head out of the sand for—at least, every once in a while!”
Her excitement and support are appreciated, but if I’m completely honest, all it’s serving to do right now is make me nervous. Suddenly, the reality of how deep underwater I am has it feeling like the fourth wall is closing in. “It’s not out in the open, Ginger, and I don’t want it to be. I’m not ready for that.”
She must sense my panic because her expression softens, and she places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I get it, Lex. And your secret is safe with me.” She smiles softly. “Plus, who am I going to tell? Dr. Blevin? The only thing I do these days is sit in this freaking lab. Pretty sure there’s an actual indent from my ass cheeks on that chair over there.”
I search her face, and relief washes over me. I trust Ginger. Really, I do, but the idea of anyone knowing the truth about Blake and me feels like handing over a part of myself I’m not ready to share.
My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen before thinking better of it.
Blake Boden: Just ordered tacos from your favorite spot. All your favs. You can dine on them while I dine on you.
My cheeks flush, and a smile creeps on to my face before I can stop it.
Ginger doesn’t miss it. “Girl, if that text is from Mr. Sports Star and he makes you smile like that , I’d say there’s no reason to keep him a secret.”
“There’s just a lot more to it than that, Ginger.”
“Just don’t overthink it, is all I’m saying, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” She nods, already moving to set up at her favorite computer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to spend the next several hours beating my head against this keyboard.”
I laugh, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. This conversation may have rattled me, but it hasn’t scared me straight.
I don’t pause. I don’t reconsider.
I head straight for Blake’s, stupid smile on my face.
The sound of water shutting off from the bathroom echoes softly through the apartment, and I glance up from where I’m lounging on Blake’s bed, my stomach full of tacos.
A yawn escapes my throat as I hear him moving around in the bathroom.
The air conditioner kicks on and it forces the bathroom door to crack open a little, and a small curl of steam escapes the room. I peer inside the bathroom, through the crack, transfixed by the slivers I get of Blake standing there, completely naked, using a towel to dry off his hair.
He doesn’t notice me watching him, but I sure as hell notice the way his muscular body shifts with his movements. I swear, the man has twelve-pack abs, and every single one of them stretches and flexes as he dries his hair.
Surprising myself, I fixate next on the way his cock hangs between his thighs. I’ve never craved to put my mouth on a man or understood the fascination with men in gray sweatpants. A utility of function, sure. But something to be looked at? I never got the memo. But right now, my body is rewriting its own manual.
My nipples are hard beneath my tank top, and my tongue sneaks out to lick against my lips. My center aches and pulls, willing me to fill it promptly, and my heart pounds at one and a half times its normal rate.
Cocks in general may not affect me, but Blake’s certainly does. Wrapping my mouth around him for the first time the other night is a core memory, cemented by the fact that my taste buds can vividly remember every detail of his taste and texture at a simple thought’s whim.
Blake hums softly to himself, completely unaware of my gawking and the dirty path my mind has taken, and for some reason, that makes the mouthwatering need for another taste of him even stronger. Before I know it, I’m getting off his bed and walking into the bathroom.
The air is warmer in here, still humid from his shower, and the mirror is fogged at the edges. Blake’s back is to me, but when his eyes catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, he freezes—and then his entire presence seems to radiate pure light. His smile is bright, his mood welcoming—he doesn’t make me doubt myself for even a moment.
“Need something, babe?” he asks, turning around to face me.
But I don’t say anything. I can’t. My eyes are focused between his thighs again, and before I can second-guess it, I step forward and get on my knees in front of him. I look up at his surprised face beneath my lashes and reach out to touch his now-hardening cock.
“Lex,” he whispers my name, his voice a mix of awe and growing need. I don’t squander it. I lean forward and swirl my tongue around the tip, trialing a taste. It’s fresh and manly and personal—it makes me feel good.
When I suck him into my mouth, his gasp of surprise is deep and raspy, just like it was the very first time I did this, and it only emboldens me further.
I feel confident and powerful as I move my mouth up and down his length. And I savor the way he grows completely hard against my tongue, letting myself relish the way he feels like silk and stone against my lips.
When I take him deeper, letting the tip of him tap against the back of my throat, a guttural groan escapes his throat that causes goose bumps to roll up my spine and a throbbing ache to form between my thighs.
“Fuck, Lexi. You’re going to ruin me, you know that?”
He might think he’s the only one who is being affected right now, but the truth is, I feel like I’m the one falling apart. I don’t think I’ve ever let myself be this vulnerable with another person in my life. I feel bare and uninhibited and safe.
So incredibly safe.
It’s a far cry from the woman who wouldn’t give him her phone number, and it’s all thanks to him. His open and honest and self-sacrificing pursuit has completely robbed me of my shields, and when I’m alone with him, I feel no need to put them back up.
And right now, all I really want to do is make him feel good.
So, I do.
I feel his body tense beneath my fingertips, and instead of pulling back like I did the first time, my desperation to taste all of him overcomes me. I let him come inside my mouth, and astonishingly, it feels almost as good as the orgasms he’s given me so many times with his mouth and lips and tongue and fingers.
The logical part of my brain wants to scrutinize every single second of the intimate interaction, but when Blake lifts me off the floor and carries me to his bed, I can’t focus on anything besides the fact that he’s smiling down at me as he removes my clothes.
“Now, it’s my turn,” he says, waggling his brows at me as he slides my panties down my thighs.
And when he puts his mouth on me? Well, the logical part of my brain goes straight into sleep mode, leaving only this wild, wanton Lexi that I didn’t even know existed at the helm.
Blake Boden has changed me.
My ship is in uncharted waters with an untested captain in charge—who the hell knows where it’s going to take me now.