MERRITT
CHAPTER TWENTY
How is it even possible to have that many abs?
An obscenely vivid picture of me dragging my tongue down the shallow dip between the chiseled muscles flits through my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force it away to no avail.
My thighs press together when my clit begins to throb, and I groan, tossing my phone onto my bed and out of reach.
Far, far away.
So I can’t pick it back up and do something stupid yet again, like count each of Bennett’s abs on his social media pictures and fantasize about licking my way down them.
I hate him.
And not for the reason I originally thought that I did.
After that night in his apartment two weeks ago when we almost hooked up again and I told him about what happened our sophomore year, I’ve realized things that I can’t unrealize.
Like the fact that he didn’t reject me that night two years ago because he wasn’t interested, but because he really was that drunk.
His apology was sincere, and hearing about how he’s already been trying not to be that guy anymore honestly kind of made me see him in an entirely different light.
It made me see a side of him that I think I was too guarded to see until then.
I was still hanging on to that night and assumptions that aren’t actually true—at least they aren’t anymore.
Which leads me to the second realization.
I hate him because now, after that almost hookup and learning he’s not actually a dick… all I can think about is him making me come in a hundred different ways.
I can’t stop daydreaming about his hands on my body or how thick and hard he felt as I rocked my hips over his erection.
God, it feels like I’m losing my mind, and I can’t focus on anything, even more so than usual. My distraction currently is things that involve his lips or tongue or his…
My fingers dance along the seam of my panties, my pussy aching with need that I have no control over. Lower and lower they go until the pad of my middle fingers ghosts along my clit, rubbing soft, slow circles through the thin fabric.
Stop, Merritt. Enough.
It’s the same thing I’ve said to myself a thousand times since that night, and yet here we are.
Two weeks of wanting the guy I’ve spent the last two years disliking.
Two weeks of touching myself, of making myself come over and over without ever being satisfied because suddenly, it’s as if my body wants him and only him.
Two weeks of knowing that despite how badly I want to do the filthiest, most obscene things with him… I can’t.
Because Bennett is celibate. Another thing I learned that night.
He’s choosing to abstain from sex, and while I understand his reasoning completely and respect his boundaries, it feels like the universe giving me the world’s biggest fuck you.
Of course, when I’m finally ready to give in to this chemistry, this pull we seem to share, he’s off-limits.
The reformed playboy who’s suddenly swearing off sex.
Go figure.
I tear my hand away from my panties and roll over onto my stomach and bury my face into the sheets, groaning into the mattress. I’m frustrated with myself, with him, with literally the scratchy feel of my comforter rubbing against my heated, overly sensitive skin.
I’ll just die of horniness, and it’ll be all his fault.
Jesus, I even sound like Bennett right now with the level of theatrics.
I force myself to grab my laptop and open it back up, banishing all thoughts of him out of my head to focus on what’s important. I start at the first page of my law application and start reading again, attempting to do one last review for any errors.
It’s been the longest three days of my life between studying for midterms, working on the project we have to turn in next month, and finalizing the last details of my application.
I’ve barely slept, and I’ve had so much caffeine that my hands are shaking. Well, either that or the fact that I’m wound so tightly I feel like I could snap with my next breath.
Tonight’s the night. I’m finally submitting my application, and then the fate of my future is with OU Law admissions.
It’s nerve-racking and scary in a way that makes my stomach clench into the tightest knot, but also exciting. I’ve waited so long for this.
I know that I’ll spend the next few weeks stalking my email every hour of the day, waiting for a response.
I get a few sections down the screen when I hear a thud outside of my bedroom window, followed by a much louder one.
What the hell was that?
I look at the time on my computer and see that it’s after midnight.
I climb off the bed and walk over to the window, wrenching it open. Suddenly, Bennett pops up, slightly red-faced and out of breath, scaring the absolute shit out of me. I open my mouth to scream, but his hand flies to cover my mouth, silencing it as he climbs through the window.
Once he’s inside, his hand falls from my lips, and I reach out, flattening my palms against his stupid chest and shoving him back a full step.
“What the fuck, Bennett!” I sound breathless, and it’s because I almost just had a heart attack, definitely not because he’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and one of those shirts that has the sleeves cut off and is open halfway down the sides, showing off his sharp obliques.
Not at all. “You scared the ever-living shit out of me. Why are you crawling through my window in the middle of the night?”
He barks out a laugh and flashes me a smirk that seems almost boyish.
“Reinforcements?” Only when I watch him shrug off his backpack do I even notice that he has one.
He sets it onto my desk, ignoring the chaotic state of the top of it, and unzips it.
“You said you’d be up late working on your app to submit tonight when we texted earlier, and I figured you probably had nothing but Red Bull and a granola bar per usual, so…
” He trails off, holding up a bag of Hot Cheetos and a cherry Sprite.
“I brought you sustenance and figured you might, I dunno… need help?”
Need help pressing the Submit button on my already completed application? Oooookay.
I bite the inside of my cheek when a smile threatens to slip past.
And they say that chivalry’s dead. Impossible.
Because this man has paid attention enough to know my favorite snack and soda and is, of course, right in the fact that I may have forgotten to eat today because I’ve been so busy studying and working and freaking out over submitting.
“Thank you. That’s very… thoughtful of you,” I murmur, taking it from him. “Next time though, text me and warn me so I don’t die of a heart attack?”
Bennett chuckles, giving me a short nod before he brushes past me toward the bed, flopping down onto it.
My cheeks heat when I realize that had he been ten minutes earlier climbing through my window, he would’ve caught me with my fingers in my panties, fantasizing about him doing ungodly dirty things to me.
Specifically, the thing he does with his tongue when kissing me, but in the spot between my thighs that is literally aching for him.
“Did you do it yet?”
I blink, pulling myself out of my head. “Do what?”
Bennett arches a brow. “Submit your application. Duh.”
Oh.
“No, not yet. I was looking over it one last time when you got here.” Walking over to the bed, I sit down beside him, pulling the blanket into my lap, followed by my laptop. “I need to finish reviewing, and then I can submit.”
“Cool, then we can do it together. I’ll study for my Astronomy test until you’re ready.” When I look over at him, he’s propped against the headboard, a notebook spread out on his lap, wearing an encouraging smile that makes my heart gallop wildly in my chest.
What is happening to me?
One very hot make-out session and a heartfelt apology for the past, and suddenly, I’m putty when it comes to him?
This is ridiculous. I have got to get it together.
I settle in at the foot of my bed, lying on my stomach as I open my computer and force my gaze back to the screen. I find the spot where I left off and continue reading, attempting to focus.
But every few lines, I find myself sneaking in a glance at Bennett, watching as he lifts the thin, gold chain around his neck between his lips and rolls it with his tongue. His pale blue eyes are locked on his notes, while my attention is fixated on him.
It feels impossible to focus with him sitting so close. With the fresh, woodsy scent of his bodywash surrounding me.
He lets out a deep sigh, and I shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable.
I keep losing my place as I’m reading.
It’s not like I haven’t gone over this application so many times that I can practically recite it with my eyes closed.
I finally make it through to the end, where I’ve added my letters of recommendation, and then sit up, moving up the bed. “Okay. I’m done. I think this is it,” I say as my gaze settles on Bennett.
“Done, done?” he asks, shutting his notebook and setting it beside him.
My nose wrinkles. “I think? Don’t make me second-guess it, Goalie, Jesus.”
“No, no, no.” He chuckles with a playful tilt to his lips. “Merritt, knowing you, it’s probably the most perfect application those people will ever see. You’ve worked on it for months. It’s done. Trust yourself.”
I bite the corner of my lip before blowing out a breath, my nerves starting to get the best of me.
My stomach feels like it’s currently doing somersaults.
I had no idea that I would feel so anxious about submitting, but it’s never felt more real than this. Than right now.
I’ve spent the last year working on my application, taking my LSATS, getting the letters of recommendation, writing and rewriting my personal statement, maintaining my GPA. But it felt like I was doing all of that for a faraway dream that wasn’t quite here yet.
But now it is.
It’s here, and this is it.
“What if they reject me and it’s the only school I applied to and then I have to work at Waffle House?” I mutter with a groan, dropping my face into my hands.
Now is not the time to spiral, Merritt. PULL IT TOGETHER.