Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WELLS
My life is a series of contradictions. What I like in bed–or I guess, on desk or in bathroom more recently–requires a high degree of trust and communication. And both of those things require repeat occurrences.
Which I’ll never admit, especially to Kellan, isn’t something I generally do. Not in any serious way. I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s already convinced me to break multiple rules. Or that I’ve been more vulnerable with him than any other man in my life.
Radford is a big school, and there’s no shortage of out and curious men who are more than happy to spend a night with me. We’ll have some varying degree of relatively satisfying to mind-numbingly boring sex, and then I send them on their way.
Usually, it works. Until it doesn’t.
Case in point, I should have never made eyes at Trevor a few weeks ago to lure him into a sloppy, gratuitous make-out session in my office, all for the sole purpose of trying to make Kellan uncomfortable.
I’m waiting for Kellan to arrive for our session, but Trevor’s standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and eyeing me angrily.
I rub at my temples, wishing he’d go away.
“You said you’d call me. You didn’t,” he accuses again, a different variation of what he’s already said twice in text and now here, standing in front of me.
And for the record, I responded to his texts. He just didn’t like the answers.
I spent years wondering if I was broken–that I didn’t seem to have that overly emotional side that makes people do stupid things for love, or even just really good sex.
When I need a release, I find it. I wouldn’t exactly call it transactional, but it’s not like I ever have any false ideations that we’re going to fall in love and live happily ever after.
That’s not something I’ve ever seen for myself.
My lip twitches. I always try to be kind and respectful to hook-ups, but he really isn’t getting the hint. “It’s just an expression, Trevor. I didn’t mean to lead you on, so I’m sorry for that.”
Trevor’s face scrunches up in disgust. Good. It’s easier when they hate me. Makes it feel like walking away is their choice. “You’re an asshole, you know that right?”
I nod somberly. No arguing. No deflection. Take it on the chin and move on.
“My friends told me that I was an idiot for hooking up with you. I should have listened.” And then he’s gone, and I can hear him stomping down the hall. I train my ears on the sound to make sure he actually leaves.
I’m not going to spend any time unpacking how I’m the exact opposite with Kellan. I caved to his gorgeous brown eyes and pouty lips the moment he waltzed in here and demanded that I keep using him. I mean, I’m only human.
I’m letting out a deep, punctuated sigh when Kellan steps into the office then, brows lifted and a smirk playing at his lips. “Trouble in paradise?”
I eye him. This man is the real trouble in my life. “Depends on how much of that you caught.”
“Getting the vibe that you’re a real heartbreaker,” he says, easing down gingerly into his own chair.
“What happened?” I’m caught off guard by the concern in my voice, and I course-correct. Maybe a little too hard. “Did you and one of the other neanderthals decide to see if you could really walk on water?”
He scowls, which is an unfairly cute look on him. “If you must know–which you asked about for the record–I pulled a muscle at practice. Luckily, it’s not serious.”
I nod dramatically. “I’m surprised that the coaches don’t have you in a bubble for safety. Something with the Radford Renegades logo that was developed in some lab for a few million dollars.”
“Is being an asshole one of your kinks?” He asks, wincing as he re-adjusts in his chair so that he can pull a textbook out of his bag. “It’s not like I’m asking for your sympathy.”
I frown. He’s right. I promised him not even a week ago that I’d stop being such a dick, especially when we’re in our sessions.
It must be because of my conversation with Trevor.
Even though I forgot about him the second he blessedly left my office, the idea of what he represents lingers.
I don’t lead men on, and I definitely don’t do…
this, either. Have platonic conversations with men who I hook up with.
Worry about their injuries. Act like a tool just to push them away.
What am I so afraid of Kellan seeing? It’s clear that he’s not going to remember me at this point. And so far, he’s been nothing but up front and honest with me.
Sometimes, it feels like he’s holding a mirror up to me, exposing my inadequacy in sharp definition. Only, unlike when we were younger, I’m angry because this time, it’s deserved.
I close my laptop. “What did your trainers say?”
The mistrust in his eyes is absolutely my own fault. And I shouldn’t care, but I do. “No practice for the rest of this week, but they’re optimistic that I can play this weekend.”
“How’s the season going?” I force myself to ask. Regardless of the respect–or lack thereof–that I have for hockey, it’s clearly a huge part of his life.
Kellan looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. Which annoys me because he’s the one who told me to stop acting like a jerk. I’m simply complying with his request. “Why do you care?”
“Well, it would be a shame if I’m dragging your ass through tutoring to stay eligible, only for you to be having a subpar season.” I purse my lips. “It would irritate me.”
He nods, slowly. “Right. It would irritate you. I get the sense that you find a lot of things irritating.”
I’m not expecting to laugh, but I do. Because I know that I’m particular, to put it mildly. And of course, Kellan’s already clocked that and is teasing me about it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
How has he managed to barrel through so many of my defenses, all without breaking a sweat?
I should be running for the hills, but all it does is make me lean my forearms along the desk, so that I’m closer to him. I arch one of my eyebrows. “So does this mean that you’re out of commission for extracurriculars for the rest of the week?”
He groans, and I love how the idea genuinely upset him.
That makes two of us. “I probably should be, not that I’m happy about it,” he says with a boyish scowl that makes my chest do this weird pitter-patter thing that’s never happened before.
I remind myself that I need to schedule my annual physical, and I can mention the heart question then.
My eyes trace along the contours of his hoodie-clad biceps, remembering how they encircled me last week.
Seems like it’s finally gotten cold enough that he’s wearing sleeves.
I’ll miss having his body so easily available for me to ogle, but I also don’t hate the idea of unwrapping him like a present.
“It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if I couldn’t put that body through the strenuous exercise it deserves. ”
Clearing his throat, he sits up a little straighter. “About that…”
A hollowness takes up residence in my stomach that I ignore, but I lash out anyway, trying to outrun the sting of rejection. “Is this your way of telling me that your bi-curious phase is over already? I thought you had more stamina than that.”
He slams his fist down on the table. I don’t jump, but I am surprised. “Goddamnit, Wells. Can you shut up for a minute instead of saying something stupid?”
My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, like a fish gasping for water. I gesture toward him to convey he should go on. I’m definitely not mentioning how fucking hot I found that entire scene.
He unclenches his fist and presses his palm flat on the desk. I watch as he takes a long, soothing breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. “With Trevor in the mix, I wanted to bring up safety.”
My response comes so swiftly that he’s barely done speaking when I answer him. “Trevor’s not in the mix.”
“Your ‘Trevor of the week’ then,” he pushes, and I don’t like how he says it so casually, like he really could care less if I’m fucking half of the student body.
“Worried I’ll get you pregnant?” I parry back, knowing that it’s a real possibility in his world.
A body like his and a bright future make Kellan O’Reilly grade-A prime beef for women on this campus.
Men too–clearly. Still, I grimace when I see his eyes flash with anger.
If he could move faster, he’d probably be out of his seat and halfway to the door by now.
I’m grateful that he can’t leave yet, and I put my hands up.
“I’m sorry I said that. Genuinely. It’s a defense mechanism,” I admit.
There isn’t a world in which I had ‘apologizing to Kellan O’Reilly’ on my bingo card, but here we are.
Or that I’d be unflinchingly honest with him, even though we’ll never get into the specifics of why I need so many defense mechanisms in the first place.
Or the fact that not all of them are even his fault.
But it’s way easier for him to be the Boogeyman of my past than considering the alternatives.
His voice calls me back to his angular jaw, even more pronounced today from his light scruff. “I just need to make sure you’re clean. Do you get tested regularly? Regardless, we’ll definitely be using condoms if anything moves beyond oral…”
I stop listening when he says “moves beyond oral,” because now, all I can think about is burying my cock inside of him and uncontrollably rutting into him like an animal in heat–which isn’t my usual fantasy.
I know he’ll be so fucking good, heeding my every command as I brace all my weight against his strong shoulders to go so deep he’ll get off just as well as I will.
“Wells?”
I blink the thoughts away, but I can feel the flush of heat wrapping around my neck like a vine, my want threatening to strangle me. I clear my throat and nod, hoping he doesn’t comment on it. “Yes, I get tested regularly.”
“Okay, cool. That’s… that’s good. I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t expect you to be anything other than safe. I mean, with your active social life…” he tacks on, the implication clear.
“Are you slut shaming me, Kellan?” I ask, feeling better about the idea that he thinks he’s not special.
And while I’ve hooked up with plenty of men, a lot of them were only make-outs or letting them jerk me off.
The occasional few I allowed to go down on me.
As for penetrative sex, I’ve had it, but only as the giver.
But he doesn’t need to know any of this.
He shakes his head. “All I want is to make sure that we’re on the same page.”
“What about you, then?” The hollowness in my stomach is back, and I clench my abs to push it away. I hate the idea of thinking of him with anyone else, even though I know they wouldn’t make him feel as good. He came back–begged for it, even–because he wants what I’m giving.
And most importantly, I want to be the only one to give it to him. The sooner he accepts that the breadth of his pleasure starts and ends with what I can do for him, the happier he’ll be.
“I’ve been tested.”
I run my hand along my jaw, trying to remember the phrase I’m looking for. Finally, I snap my fingers when it comes to me. “Puck bunnies. That’s what they call them, right?”
His eyes narrow, and I can see he doesn’t like where this is going. “Yes, that is the term for people who have an affinity for sleeping with hockey players.”
Well, Kellan, I don’t love this conversation track either, though I do internally applaud him for his gender neutral definition of the term. “You need to keep getting tested while we’re doing this. I don’t want to be sharing a chlamydia strain with half your team.”
Splotches fan out across his cheeks, like he’s been caught at something. “It’s not a problem. But yeah, whatever makes sense.”
My fingers fan out reflexively before curling into a fist to center myself, a heady rush of want surging through my body that I’m trying to keep a lid on.
“Are you telling me that there’s no one else?
No one keeping you warm on these long, lonely nights?
” I need him to say it. I’m so fucking hungry for the words that I think they could satiate me for a lifetime if I get them.
“If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly flush with time these days.”
“And?” I press, using a more authoritative tone that makes his pupils glow black. A pleased warmth slides through my body, my cock already responding to his submission.
“And they don’t… It’s not…” He’s stumbling over his words, not sure how to say whatever I’m becoming more desperate by the second to hear. “It’s not like this.”
I lean forward, and it takes no small amount of effort to stay in my chair. With him looking like that, his eyes taking in every inch of my face, lips in a soft pout, that delicious heat still high on his cheeks. “Not like what, Kellan? Tell me exactly what they don’t do for you that I do.”
His eyes meet mine again, a well of want that I know is mirrored in my own. “They don’t get me off the way you do. They don’t make me feel like I’m aware of every molecule in my body. That I’m being wrung out of every single drop that I have to give. They don’t let me let go.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my hardened cock, wishing so desperately that Kellan could take me in his mouth and show me just how much he appreciates my direction. But I don’t want him to injure himself.
I never imagined a world where I want to be the last thing that causes any hurt to him.
I lean back in my chair, breaking the moment between us and forcing my hand above the desk so that we can get started studying.
This week is going to fucking kill me.