14
ELIAS
We spend two hours going over Celine's understanding of the topic and the parts of the course that she struggles with the most. By the end, her eyes are wide, and her pen is practically tearing lines in the paper she's writing so fast. "Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't get this."
"I can't believe it either."
"Professor Callihan is a terrible teacher."
I shrug because I only half agree. He points us in the right direction for all the information we need to be successful. There's a lot of external reading that Celine obviously hasn't done. "I think he gives us what we need, but we can't just rely on the lectures. You've gotta spend time with the study texts."
Her frown deepens, and she clicks the end of her pen over and over.
"How much do you study, Elias?"
"A lot."
"But you have practice."
"That takes up time, but…"
But I need to make every second count while I'm here because I don't have Mommy’s and Daddy’s money to fall back on. I need to prove that I'm not the idiot my father told me over and over that I am. I need to show the world the man I want to be because the man I am isn't that great.
Fuck. I don't tell her any of that.
"But?"
"But you have to make time for what's important."
Celine places her pen on her notepad and slides off the edge of the bed. When she's in front of me, she stops between my legs and runs her fingers through my hair. My eyelids lower, the sensation over my scalp sending a pulse of awareness down my spine and between my legs. I think about her mismatched underwear and how badly I want to strip it from her body and sink inside her. How badly I want the bite of her fingernails into my skin.
Pulling her to me, I press my face into her belly and rest there while she pets me. Her fingers run down the back of my tense neck and graze my bunched shoulders. Even though our team physio deals with our aches and pains, I'm still tense from all the benching and drills and the rest of life's stresses.
"You're so big," she whispers. "So big and hard and…"
"...and?" I wait for the thought that dried on her tongue.
"...a quandary."
"Good word. How so?"
"You don't seem to take anything seriously, but you do. You brush off any kind of emotional contact, but you love sweet affection. I can't work you out."
I snort wryly, but beneath my flippancy, I feel exposed. "Sounds like you want to work me out."
Instead of admitting that she does, she tips my chin so I'm forced to look her in the eyes. The uncertainty I see there floors me.
"Take me to bed, Elias."
So I do.
I make it raw and sexy, and I know she likes it because it trips her switch until she's clawing at me and whimpering. But after, when I pull her close, I let my fingers wander over her skin with the same gentleness that she showed me, and allow myself to drift beneath her gentle caresses, pushing back the thoughts of Dornan and Travis, and even Eddie. Pushing back my own mumbling mind that tells me I'm a pussy for wanting Celine for anything else other than a fun and convenient fuck.
I let myself rest because the chance feels like one I won't get again for a long time.