Chapter 19 – Lena
chapter
nineteen
Lena
I could do this without falling apart.
Except I had. I let him kiss me…and more. Why oh why had I said yes in that library? Why had I gone to see him?
Why did you let him touch you?
You went to talk and you know how that ended.
With his fingers inside me and me coming three times.
I was fiiiine. Perfectly fine.
Except, I wasn’t fine. Yesterday had been so much worse than the hockey game that was kissmageddon.
Because you made a decision…then you snuck out on him like you were doing the walk of shame.
Okay fine, I had done the walk of shame. But honestly. Not like I could stay there in bed with him.
Also running kept you from having a conversation.
Sometimes I really hated my psyche, because why was she calling me out like that.
With the game, and the bake sale, I could pretend that the kisses hadn’t reminded me that there were many times when I had been with Trevor and wished he was Trace.
And that while I was with Trace not once did I think about who I had dated before. Just him.
All him.
Hell…all of him.
The man was huge. All I’d had were his fingers and I was a little sore this morning. I had only felt that monster dick against me and I was worried for my pussy.
Pussy: Don’t worry about me, I got this.
No you don’t. You’ve never had dick like that, so maybe starting with Trace Coulter is a bad idea. That was some expert level shit I had no business messing with.
But now, in the clear light of early morning…after I’d snuck back in to my own room, that guilty feeling plagued my dreams.
We’d crossed all kinds of lines and there was no going back. I knew that.
But it also made me face some things like how I had wanted the wrong brother but been too scared to do anything about it back then. But yesterday … there was no denying yesterday.
He’d kissed me and then I had let him do…more than kiss me.
I was mortified. My body still hummed with that specific kind of pleasure that only comes from doing something truly filthy, yesterday replaying in 4k behind my eyelids.
I could still feel Trace’s hands on my hips, his breath hot against my neck. I could still taste him on my tongue, remember how I had arched my back into him, how I’d whimpered when he’d added a second finger…
The thought sent desire through me first. But then came that chaser of guilt.
He was my ex’s brother. I knew better. I might not have feelings for Trevor anymore, but this still felt wrong somehow.
Pussy: sure didn’t when he was asking you how you liked your clit rubbed.
Well fuck me.
Pussy: exactly.
Fucking hell. I jammed a pillow over my head trying to force sleep.
But there was Trace infiltrating my mind… Trace with his cocky grin and intense gaze. Trace with his lingering touches and maddening proximity. Trace with his fingers…
Stop. Stop it right now.
I tried to banish yesterday. His bed. His hands. The wet lace of my bra and him ruining me with his fingers. But the images kept coming, each one lighting me up from the inside.
The guilt built like pressure behind my ribs. I had to fix this before it ruined everything.
Trace was helping me.
Come, that is.
Jesus. It was cleaner if we didn’t muddy the waters.
Is that it, or are you worried about what he’s thinking?
I needed to focus on what was important.
Mom getting in to see Dr. Okafor was what mattered. I’d nearly cried when Mom called to confirm that the doctor’s office had suddenly had an opening and that they could see her this week. Trace had done that. He’d made one phone call and moved a mountain that I’d been pushing against for months.
I picked up my phone and called before I could talk myself out of it.
She answered on the second ring. “Baby, it’s early.”
“Just a reminder. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to cook a few meals and stock the freezer so you actually eat something that isn’t takeout or toast.”
“Also, did you call Miss Shirlene?”
Silence.
“Mama.”
“I’ve been busy!”
“Busy doing what? You better have her on that schedule before I get there or I’m showing up with the lock gel and an attitude.”
“Lord, you are relentless. Fine. I’ll call her today.”
“Today, Mama. Not next week. Today.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said, dry as dust, and I could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Anything else, warden?”
“Love you. See you tomorrow.”
“Love you too, baby. Be safe.”
I hung up and pressed the phone against my chest for a second. She sounded okay. Tired, but okay.
So I needed to forget yesterday. I had to hold up my end of the bargain, which meant that today I would wake up, get dressed, climb into his car, and we would drive to Chicago for the Pucks and Stars event.
I would smile and hold his hand. And I would definitely not think about where that hand had been yesterday. I could do this. Because I was an adult.
Sort of.
Thirty minutes later, I was as ready as I’d ever be. And absolutely determined that I would keep my feelings in check. Yesterday wouldn’t happen again.
Pussy: Mores the pity.
I’d chosen carefully. A satin, fitted, one-shoulder burgundy floor-length dress, paired with gold hoops Kimmy had declared my signature.
My braids were down, freshly oiled, falling past my shoulders.
The dress hugged my curves in a way that was flattering without trying too hard. At least that’s what I told myself.
The fact that Trace had once mentioned burgundy was his favorite color had absolutely nothing to do with my choice.
Liar.
Kimmy had left early for a study group, so the room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that let my brain replay the sound Trace had made when he’d felt how wet I was. That rough, reverent fuck like the word had been ripped out of him.
I said stop.
My phone chirped, alerting me that Trace was downstairs.
Showtime. Before leaving, I double-checked my makeup in the small mirror on Kimmy’s desk. I’d gone for a natural look, soft brown eyeshadow that left a faint shimmer on my skin and nude, matte lips. Classic and pretty. Not I’m thinking about your hands every waking second. Classy and put together.
Not like the girl who’d come all over his fingers last night.
I shoved open the dorm door with my fancy coat and my overnight bag in tow.
“Hey, Lena,” he mumbled as his gaze drank me in.
Good God, he looked good.
He was leaning against the Range Rover, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Dark jeans hung low on his hips and a charcoal sweater stretched across his chest and shoulders in ways that should’ve been illegal.
His hair was doing that thing where it looked perfect without trying and I was starting to suspect it really was effortless.
The split knuckles on his right hand were taped with white athletic tape.
He did that for you.
My stomach flipped and I locked my knees so I wouldn’t do something stupid like sway toward him.
His gaze didn’t quite meet mine and that told me everything I needed to know about this drive to Chicago. We weren’t going to talk about it. “Hey, this okay for what we’re doing today?” I asked, gesturing to my outfit.
His eyes swept down. Slow. Deliberate. Over my shoulder, my waist, my hips. They caught on my chest and held. The October wind pebbled my nipples in the satin.
His jaw ticked and he licked his bottom lip, sucking on it slightly. The motion reminded me of how he’d sucked on them yesterday.
“You look great.”
Damn. The voice didn’t help much either, all low and full of gravel.
I smiled and climbed in. The Range Rover smelled like leather and him. Like that night. I buckled my seatbelt and tried not to remember his hands on my skin.
When he climbed in and started the car, I realized he had no intention of talking. But there was no way I’d survive the ride like this. I needed to fill the silence. “How do you even manage to park on campus?”
“We get parking passes for the team. I think the tennis team got them too. All athletes do. Something about wanting to facilitate our ability to get where we’re supposed to be.”
Right. Another reminder that I had taken a long detour from where I was supposed to be. “So, who’s going to be there today? Anyone I need to know?”
Again his answer was short. “It’s pretty basic. You know the guys on the team now. Waylon will be there. I guess you guys are buddies now? Ryder’s girlfriend too.”
I smiled at that.
Marli had texted me yesterday to ask what I was wearing. “Marli and I talked a few days ago to coordinate outfits.”
“Well, good I guess.”
Holy frosty. There was no way he was mad at me.
We drove in silence for another thirty minutes.
The highway stretched out flat and gray ahead of us, fields on either side turning gold and brown with the season.
His cologne filled the car, that woody, musky scent I’d been trying to scrub out of my memory since the honors dinner.
Every time he shifted gears, his forearm flexed and I caught myself watching the tendons move under his skin, the white tape on his knuckles, the way his hand dwarfed the gear shift.
Stop staring at his fingers. ‘Come for me, Lena.’
I needed to stop. I pulled my gaze back to the windshield. Farms. Look at the farms. Very interesting farms.
Finally, I turned in my seat, pulling one leg up underneath me. “Are we going to talk about it?”
He shifted uncomfortably, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What are we talking about, Lena? Because if it’s about this morning, you made yourself pretty clear when I woke up and you were gone.”
The quiet hurt in his voice hit me square in the chest. He wasn’t mad. He was hurt.
“Trace…”
“I’m not doing this. You wanted to leave, you left.” His jaw was tight but his voice cracked on the last word, just barely, and I wanted to reach across the console and touch him. I didn’t.
“That’s not… I didn’t leave because I wanted to.”