Chapter 23
23
W e go from sweet and tender to demanding in a heartbeat. I relish the way his weight pushes into me, the compression heightening every sensation in my body. I let the sensations wash over me in an onslaught, caught in a pleasurable, if overwhelming, tide.
When we were fourteen, he’d run from this—the very second we’d stuck our toes in the pool and felt the undertow that could pull us in. We’d gotten a hint of this magnetic quality before he ran out. And we’ve vaulted right over it and straight into carnal lust our other two or three encounters. This one…this threatens to absolutely devour me in a scary, life-changing way. I’m not sure there will be a recovery from this.
Ever.
My pondering ends as he urges my lips open. Delves into my mouth with my tongue with so much confidence, with so much ownership , I nearly come up off the bed with my body’s response.
I groan as he rocks into me.
I’m shocked to find my own palms splayed against his ass. When had they done that? For someone who has never really done much with a boy, my body sure seems to have some ideas. We’ve gone from very sweet make-out session to “how fast can we get our clothes off”. There’s no in-between for us. And I relish the newness, even as the smart part of my brain is telling me to slow down and think about this a little.
As our tongues tangle, I slide my hands up his shirt, under his vest and yank until I have enough room to press my hands flat against his heated skin. I slide them around to the back, untucking as I go. I’ve never undressed a man in a three piece suit. And now, nothing has ever sounded more sexy. My own pajama top rides up, the buttons on his vest scratching and digging into the soft flesh of my stomach.
His hands reach up and he presses a flat palm over my left breast before sliding it down until my nipple is between his fingers. He’s palmed my breasts before, but that was business. Dear God…I’d had no idea being pinched could feel…electric.
I combust, a full on whimper escaping from me. I’m too into it to be horrified. I swear to God I’m about to come, and we’re fully clothed. Can I have my very first orgasm without just a boob grab?
He growls something, and removes his hand. I try to put his hand back, very much craving its weight and attention.
“Helena, this wasn’t the intention.”
He tears his lips from mine, and buries his face in my hair at my temple. He’s halfway to smothering in my pillow, and I can hear him panting. He’s muttering under his breath, even as he holds me to him.
I’m having a harder time pushing away the cloud of lust. I decide that if he’s going to put his ear and throat this close to me, I might as well make use of it. As if I’ve done this a million times before, urged on by pure instinct, I press a line of kisses to the parts I can reach. And when he doesn’t do anything except hiss out a breath, I take his advice from earlier and I bite him. Hard. Right where his neck meets his collarbone.
He comes up off the bed, and stares at me like a mad man. His pupils dilate to pin pricks before expanding to take over the blue of his eyes. He looks terrifyingly turned on. Like he’s going to bite me right back, and make me hurt in a way that feels so good I want more of it.
“ This is what I was avoiding, running out of that closet.” He says it like a man confessing his last sin, a man about to face the firing squad. He looks half ready to bolt for the door, repeating the past all over again.
That gets my head to clear a bit. I almost feel embarrassed I bit him. Almost. Honestly, I think he deserved it. I think I might have even drawn blood, and I’m not a little bit sorry. I want to punish him for stopping. “Oh yes, because clearly this is the worst thing to happen, ever.”
In tandem, our watches beep. I glance at mine before giving a short laugh. My All-Saints app is reminding me to log my workout session.
“Always watching,” Kendall agrees darkly.
Reality comes crashing in, and I’m suddenly very aware of every way I’m vulnerable in front of this person. Again. His three piece suit versus my pajamas. His fortune versus my…not…fortune. His knowledge of everything versus my naiveté. How very close I am to screwing up my chance at staying at Oxford—and I don’t have a daddy here to bail me out of trouble like Kendall does. The power imbalance slams into the void left by my adrenaline and hormones.
“Helena,” he says as I make an effort to push out from under him.
I don’t even know if I’m embarrassed or pissed beyond belief that Kendall makes it sound like he’s ready yet again to run away from me. I level him with a glower. “Kendall.”
“This…everything got messed up. I came here to tell you about your grandfather, I came here to convince you to give up All Saints, and to move home. I didn’t intend this . And no, not the worst thing ever. Far far from it, but that’s the problem. We can’t be together. I signed a document?—“
“Stating no relationships , Jesus, Kendall it’s not like I proposed marriage. We kissed. That’s it.”
It sounds like a lie to my own ears. Because holy shit was it more than just some kiss you write off in a bar bathroom as a bad decision.
His eyebrow quirks as if he’s going to challenge me, and I redouble my efforts to extricate myself. “You weigh too much,” I grouse as I push at him.
“This isn’t what I want, Helena.”
I pause in my fruitless pushing and blow hair out of my eyes. “Could have fooled me.” I nod crassly at his still-gigantic erection, pressing into my stomach.
He doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t look embarrassed. “This isn’t all I want, Helena.”
And that shuts me up. Because that feeling of peering behind the mask? Like he’s being the real Kendall washes over me. And I think, I think he’s telling the truth. And it makes me strangely emotional. And I hate that more than anything he’s done all night. Because now I’m goddamned invested .
“What could we possibly have together? I’m not a vending machine. Kendall, you’ve been an asshole to me since we were fourteen. You don’t even know me.” I shove down the panic threatening to take over my whole body.
But he surprises me even further by looking into my eyes and saying, “I want to know you. And I’m not lying. I don’t know what it all means, I only know how I feel. Look, it’s late. And I…just need a moment to collect myself before I leave. Can we just, sit here a moment?”
I squint at him, his changes giving me whiplash again. “You want to just hang out in my room?”
He swallows and nods. “Let’s talk about normal stuff. We can talk about home if you’d like. Or music? I just…I need a minute to clear my head and I know it sounds stupid but I’m not ready to leave unless you’re kicking me out. My roommate is…not friendly.”
I get a glimpse of how lonely he is. I certainly get it. Clara and I have become nigh on besties simply because we are two American girls among a sea of hyper-intelligent people from other cultures.
“I get it.” I make to move again, but he leans down, wraps his arms around me again, and pulls me to him.
“Are we… snuggling ?” I ask against his chest.
He doesn’t answer, he just rests his chin on my head again and takes a deep breath. I swear I can feel him unwind a little every second. I widen my eyes and then give a little shrug to myself before giving in to it. I’ve never had a guy want to snuggle . It feels nice. I try to convince myself that it would feel nice with anyone, and that it has nothing to do with Kendall’s confession that he’s been into me since we were fourteen, nor our insane chemistry. I’m dangerously close to liking my tormentor.
“You’re wrong you know.”
“Proving my point you are a terrible snuggler,” I laugh. Only Kendall could ruin cuddling with needing to point out his partner’s flaws. “That’s it. Get out.” I playfully push at him.
He sighs and cradles me closer, and we’re silent a long while. My eyelids start to droop before he talks again. “You’re wrong that I don’t know you. You don’t like coffee, you like tea. As far as I can tell you’ve switched from Earl Gray to something earthier here. Always oat or almond milk, never soy.”
My eyes fly open. This is indeed true. “Okay, creeper. I know All Saints has you stalk me, but that’s not knowing someone.”
“You tried out for the musical our junior year and got callbacks but didn’t show up because you wanted your best friend to get the part.”
I gasp. “No one knows that but me, and the music teacher.”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I sat behind you in every class I could so I could watch you?—“
“Not helping your case as a creeper.” But there’s a buzz starting in my toes.
“I sent you one of those student council flowers one Valentine’s Day and you thought it was that asshole Jason.”
That one stops me a bit. There’d been the lyrics to a song I liked written on the card, and my dance date at the time took credit for sending me the flowers—his one moment of pure romance. Or so I’d thought.
“You don’t like roses though. I think you like tulips.” I try to pull back to look at him, but he keeps me firmly ensconced. “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”
“Was?” I’m still struggling to deal with this. Kendall isn’t admitting to lust, he’s…he’s hinting at real feelings. Feelings enough to send me flowers in high school. Feelings enough to snuggle .
He laughs again. “For now. And I’m going to have to be. But let’s not ruin it with talking about what next. Just stay with me a little while.”
And so I do. God help me, I settle in with my cheek against his scratchy wool vest and I fall asleep in his arms like it’s something we do every night.