Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
WELLS
Iknow what Kellan is going to think. That I bagged off on our Tuesday session earlier this week so that I didn’t have to see him. He’d probably love that–like I’m intimidated or something–but I had an evening exam that conflicted.
No way was I going out of my way to reschedule with him. And like hell I’d give him my phone number, so I cancelled the session through the portal on Monday night. He got an email notification, and I got two extra days of a blissfully Kellan-free life.
It’s Thursday, and even though I’m getting more than a few questioning glances from the other tutors–I never work out in the open area–I stand my ground and sit quietly at one of the sets of desks.
I see his broad frame walk through the entrance five minutes early, dressed just like he was last Thursday. A pair of black joggers that ride dangerously low on his hips. A Radford U t-shirt, even though it’s the last week in October, and the weather is getting close to freezing outside.
Today, he has earbuds in. Maybe he always does, but he takes them out before he gets to my office. I don’t like knowing this new fact about him, so I tell myself that it’s probably an audio of him grunting as he lifts weights, just to keep himself in the zone.
I watch him, and this is the first time I’ve seen him move through a space that doesn’t have us practically touching at every turn.
He’s surprisingly graceful for his size, gliding across the floor like it’s ice.
I grimace. He really is a one trick pony.
Even without a uniform on and a stick in hand, everything about him screams Radford U hockey.
His broad shoulders. Walking around in a t-shirt even though everyone else is in at least sweatshirts, but many people are also wearing coats.
His haircut, which is close cropped on the sides and a little messy on top.
Even his large hands, his left one permanently held like he has a stick in it.
He looks menacing. Until he smiles, and it’s so damn vibrant as he acknowledges what I can only assume is a fan. It makes him look boyish–charming, even.
I frown and sit up a little straighter in the uncomfortable metal chair. I’ve done a good job this week of pushing Kellan O’Reilly as far from my mind as I can, even if hooking up was no big deal. A phrase that I’ve been repeating in my head since Friday like it’s a mantra.
But I’m a professional. And more importantly, I won’t let Kellan see me act any other way than aggressively bland. I’m going to be a cardboard cut-out as far as he’s concerned.
I let out a sharp whistle that he seems to immediately recognize is for him. Like a dog being called to its master.
His eyes find mine across the room, and I can see the confusion that he doesn’t blink away fast enough.
Good.
He’s in my house now, and even if he has allies in this building–like the woman who I swear to god looks like she wants to throw her bra at him–I make the rules here.
It takes seconds for him to cross the main tutoring area and drop his bag down on the desks with a thunk. He sits down across from me and quickly pulls his textbooks out without preamble.
“No office today?” He meets my cold stare again, his lips tipped upward on one side, like he’s holding back a smirk. Which he better fucking not be. I don’t want any part of him to be thrilled or excited by what happened last week.
And I definitely don’t want him thinking that there’s a chance it will happen again.
Tragically, for both of us, this means that all I can do now is be so painfully boring that he’d rather have his hands chopped off than sit through a semesters’ worth of tutoring sessions with me.
“Sometimes, tutors like a change of pace. You’d know that if you’d ever stepped foot in here before.” I won’t mention that I’d rather die than give up my office or sit out here amongst the dozens of students.
He nods agreeably, and my fists clench under the table. “Makes sense.”
I unclench my hands and grab a textbook from the pile. “Let’s get started. I don’t have all day.”
“That’s my econ book. I took that test Monday. Got a B+,” he says, insistent on making eye contact.
“Then what is it that you need help with today?” My voice is droll, and I tell myself that I’m bored with our back-and-forth. I’d believe it more if Kellan would stop looking at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
He picks up a textbook that’s thinner than the others. “Spanish. Por favor.”
My temperature is starting to rise, annoyance flaring through my veins.
“Most seniors don’t have Spanish unless they’re minoring in it.
Why are you still taking your gen-ed language class?
” I would know, since I am actually a Spanish minor.
And more importantly, I do not want to watch him bumble through whatever embarrassing accent he manages to overlay on top of his slight Boston lilt.
Or try to roll his tongue.
His brow creases. “We technically–”
As if my day couldn’t get worse. Julie, in all her pastel glory, walks up to our desks. “Well, look at you Wells, mingling with the little people.”
I bite back a snarl, refusing to let Kellan or Julie see my annoyance, now. I’m really racking up enemies. I exhale through my nose and smile. “I figured it would be a nice change of pace.”
“Of course,” Julie says seriously before focusing on Kellan, an exuberant smile on her face that I didn’t get. “Really great games this weekend. Seems like tutoring is already giving you more time to focus on hockey. I’m sure you’re thrilled.”
He nods but doesn’t give her back the same enthusiasm. If anything, he’s more stoic than I’ve ever seen him. “Wells has been a big help.”
Julie’s eyebrows lift. I’m loath to admit it, but I get her confusion since his words are a surprise to both of us. “Is that right?” she asks, course-correcting quickly. “Wells is a real wildcard, but I paired you two up because there’s no one that can whip a student into shape like he can.”
I know she’s said something, but I’m not listening. My mouth is dry, thinking about what Kellan would look like shirtless, red lines etched along his muscled back.
It’s Kellan’s rich voice that finally pulls me from my fantasy. “Thanks for checking in. I’ve got a Spanish test coming up that’s going to be a bitch, so we should get back to it.”
“Sounds good. And let me know if you need anything.” Her smug smile is all I notice before she’s turning around and walking away to harass someone else on her daily power trip.
He nods and sinks down in his chair, his shoulders slouched so that we’re closer together. His eyes are already there when I look toward him, watching me intently. “You don’t like her.”
“She’s the reason I’m stuck with you, so no, I don’t exactly like her.
” I didn’t mean to be honest–to give him any more ammunition to use against me–but I was so caught off guard by his stare, like he was imploring me to unburden myself.
An uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest that I try to ignore, but he’s still looking at me like he can see right through me. It’s unnerving.
I don’t want him coming to my defense. Saving me.
I need him to stop looking at me like that.
“I’m a big boy, Kellan. I can take care of myself.” I realize my mistake immediately as his cheeks flush with heat, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. His irises are blown wide, and even though he hasn’t moved, I watch as a vein in his neck starts to thrum.
The last time I said the words ‘big boy’ was when my hand was wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock.
I can still remember how good the weight felt in my palm.
Before I made him beg for it. Before I stripped him down to his most base instincts and made him come so hard all over my office that I spent most of Friday trying to get semen out of the carpet.
It’s why I’d needed to go to the gym for hours that night and work out my frustration.
And god, I wanted to suck every drop from his tip, swallowing the impressive amount of come that shot out of him in thick, milky spurts as his body shook from the intensity. I will never forget the most beautiful sight I’ve ever witnessed–as he gave himself over to me without hesitation.
I take a steadying breath, even as I feel the chemistry ricochet back and forth across the table. It doesn’t seem to be the size of the space we’re in that creates this… combustibility between us.
It’s just us. And in the face of it again, I can’t deny its potency.
I sigh, helpless to fight it. It’s not fair. For him to have this effect on me. For me to want so fucking badly to break him down to nothing more than an extension of my own control.
I want to own him, and sitting here across from him now, with the weight of what happened roaring to the surface between us, I can’t promise myself that it won’t happen again. Even if it’s what he wants.
Because maybe he wants it, but I need it.
His arm slips under the table. “I know you can take care of yourself. You know that I can, too. Especially under your… tutoring skills,” he says, finding the perfect words to push the moment further.
To anyone else, our conversation is benign. Two men talking in low tones, their bodies bent forward so they don’t disrupt anyone around them.
But he’s still looking me in the eye, in a room full of people, and telling me that he wants me to own him.
Control him. Make him beg and sweat and work for every orgasm I’ll let him have.
Kellan O’Reilly, star forward for the Radford University Renegades.
The golden boy on campus that others are measured against.
I’m already hard, thinking about his big hand resting on his cock, waiting for my instruction. I’m sure he’d lick my boot if I told him to do it, and knowing that only makes me harder. Given the look flashing in his eyes, he’d probably suggest it just to please me.
“I don’t get you.” I say the words as my own hand slips underneath the table, and I rest my hand on top of my need but don’t give myself the satisfaction of full contact. I like denying myself as much as I like denying him.
“I don’t like bullies,” he says simply, but it’s like a bomb has gone off inside my brain.
Everything snaps back into place, as my consciousness comes back into the present moment. What I was about to do. Where we were going to do it. And most importantly, who I was going to do it with.
My hand is back on the table, and I grab at the Spanish textbook before I can give into the chemistry that still crackles in the air all around us.
Kellan’s looking at me with that same confused look he had last week.
Only now, there’s something else laced through it–like he’s wondering what he did to make me stop, to turn ice cold at the drop of a hat.
His dark eyes are imploring me not to cut this moment off, begging me without words.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m never going to tell him that the wrongs he committed happened long before I met this version of him.
And when I’m alone, later, I’ll unpack what it actually means that the man across from me seems to be the type of person that looks out for other people instead of torturing them.