8. Atlas
Atlas
Chapter eight
"You're a what?" Tatum's expression isn't one I can make up, but one I expected. Shocked.
"You heard me," I say to her, kind of cocky but also, not really wanting to repeat the secret I just laid out in front of us.
"You're…" she looks up at me, then back to the bed. Her fingers still brush gently back and forth against her lips. They're swollen with pleasure, just like mine, and yearning for more. "A virgin." She continues, dragging the words out a little slower than I care to enjoy.
"Yes," I confirm, seeing the shock still painting her eyes.
Am I ashamed of being a virgin? No, one hundred percent no. But is it awkward to have this information floating around after sharing the hottest kiss I've ever had? Kind of. Only because the heat of the moment was so hot and I really want nothing more than to keep exploring with Tatum. No girl has ever made me want to lose my virginity, so I've never even tried. But right now, things feel way different with her, and I don't even fucking know how to explain it.
"So, you've never had sex before?" she asks, as if being a virgin and having sex are two different things.
Her hand finally leaves her lips and the urge to replace them with mine is overwhelming. But I keep the distance between us as she navigates the truth she just got out of me.
"That's what I'm saying," I say to her. She sits back down on her ass, crossing her legs in front of her once more.
Part of me wonders if she's taking this information and chewing over it judgingly. But Tatum doesn't seem like that kind of girl, so I don't let that thought pester me too much.
"Why?" she asks, and I smirk at her question, knowing that she's asking me more than one question technically. The idea of making her strip intrigues me, but I want to answer the question first. I settle down in the bed and allow myself this—to tell her my story.
"Well, football took over my life at a very young age. High school was no joke. I said my last relationship was my junior year and I wasn't lying. I broke it off with that girl because football became everything to me. That and my grades. I grew up poor, knowing that if I wanted to make anything of myself, I'd have to do it through sports or getting good grades to get me through college. So I worked my ass off for both." I pause just to make sure Tatum is following along as I can still see her shocked expression playing on her face. But I also notice her interest in what I'm saying so I continue.
"I never had time for parties or girls or anything like that. I couldn't even afford time to have a job after school. I wore the same clothes a lot of days, had to skip lunch because we had no money." The memory of being so poor is something I will never forget, it's humbling. Especially when I did grow into my success the way I did, "Anyways, I got into Texas A the other part is feigning a pout.
"I did, but I find that I can't help how fucking sexy you look with my name on your back," I admit to her, smirking as she lets go of the hem.
"Oh this?” She grins at me, playfully tugging on the blue and black jersey she’s wearing. “ I think I like my Saints jersey better."
"I don't know, Rival. You don't look like a saint to me." I brush my fingers along her cheek, feeling dangerously close to falling into temptation. It's a risk to play this game with her, tempting something that we both probably shouldn't be so eager to play out, but I can tell she wants this just as much as I do.
"Then what do I look like?" She shrugs her shoulders, feigning innocence.
I take her fingers gently in my hands and she watches as I move her like a doll, placing them on the hem of my briefs. She tucks them in just barely, and I can feel her tug slightly. Excitement boils through me, my dick hardening at just the mere contact of her fingertips and her body heat so close to mine.
"You look like mine."