Chapter Thirty-Four
When August returned to the bathroom with a T-shirt and sweatpants folded neatly together, my dress already sat in a puddle on the floor at my feet. His eyes snapped to my bare chest, pupils darkening, as his throat worked hard.
“Fuck,” he rasped, placing the clothes on the counter without tearing his eyes from my figure. He stepped toward me, dropping to his knees. He held my gaze as he hooked his fingers into the thin strings at my hips and began to guide the small triangle of fabric covering my center down my legs.
I stepped out of the thong, my hands pressed to his shoulders. August’s gaze dropped to the open invitation of my parted thighs, and I could feel the electric heat pooling there as he licked his lips. I ran my fingers through his hair, stiff with product.
“Tell me what you want,” I whispered, heart pounding.
He breathed in, as if sucking desire deep into his lungs. His voice came out husky, “Can I watch you?”
“Watch me what?”
“Do everything,” he said, a wicked curve at his lips. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”
I stepped into the shower, the water hot like wildfire across my sensitive skin, as I pushed the curtain all the way back to the wall.
I took my time, letting the water run over me as I washed my hair and body.
When I squeezed August’s body wash onto the washcloth he gave me I held the bottle up to my nose and inhaled the smell of cedar.
August leaned against the counter, the tiny tea lights casting a halo around him as his hand gripped the marble edge.
“You look hot,” I said, the steam in the room clinging to his skin. He gave a slight lift of his shoulders as his eyes tracked the slow movement of my hand guiding across my body. “Take the shirt off for me?”
His hands moved slowly, undoing each button at an aching pace.
I knew he was dragging it on purpose, the same way I was.
I wanted to climb out of the shower and press my soaking wet body to his.
Or to pull him underneath the stream with me.
But I willed myself to stay exactly where I was, my eyes fixated on the taught line of his shoulders as he pulled the shirt off, and folded it before placing it neatly on the counter next to the T-shirt and sweats he’d left out for me.
When I finished rinsing the soap off, I pressed my shoulders against the cool shower wall and looked up at the removable shower head.
I sighed, and reached up to grab it. I moved the hard stream between my legs and bit down on my bottom lip to keep myself from moaning too loudly as the jet of water hit my clit.
August let out a groan, his hand adjusting himself through his jeans and his eyelids grew heavy. His mouth hung open in a desperate little pout as he panted, “You are my favorite fucking thing.”
I smiled widely. “Prove it.”
August didn’t hesitate, his fingers trembling as they undid the button of his slacks. He pushed them off, not bothering to fold them like he had with the shirt. His hand slipped under the band of his briefs, and gripped his hard length tightly, already stroking.
His eyes flickered to mine briefly, “Can I take these off too?”
“Yes,” I said quickly, eager for the thing I hadn’t realized I was allowed to ask for.
August kept his hand on his cock as he used the other to take off that last article of clothing, kicking them into the pile with his pants and my dress.
My mouth went dry instantly, my tongue swelling with a deep need to be on him. I kept myself glued to the wall, my gaze focused on the bead of precum dripping from the head of his cock onto his slender fingers, rubbing the underside of his head that was throbbing with my favorite color.
I didn’t realize how still I’d gone until August cleared his throat before saying, “Is this okay?”
I nodded, my voice a reverent plea, “Fuck, yes.”
I shifted the stream higher, as I used my other hand to slowly tease my entrance. My head fell back against the wall as I found the perfect spot. August’s strokes grew more urgent, his hips lifting and falling in time with the tension between us.
“Lola, I’m not going to last long,” he warned, his whole body beginning to curl inward.
“I’m almost there.” I promised. My nipples stood so tightly against the steam filled air that it was almost painful to leave them untouched.
I pulled my hand from my center, slick with my own arousal, and pinched the sensitive mounds hard.
The sensation sent a violent wave of pleasure through me.
My inner walls contracted, forcing my thighs to tremble and press together around the water’s hot pulse.
August’s hips bucked forward at the sight, his green eyes flickering between the hand at my chest and the shower head at my center, unsure which was more deserving of his attention. The veins on his forearms stood out as he twisted his hand in rough circles around the head of his straining cock.
“I can’t wait to feel you around me,” he groaned.
That was all it took to send me over the edge. I forced myself to keep my eyes open as my orgasm crashed through me quicker than it ever had before. My knees went weak, my back arching. As soon as the high pitched moan left my throat, August was coming too.
White ropes shooting from him, and coating his fingers as he groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the tiny room. I barely had time to process it before he was coming toward me, his mouth on mine, pressing me against the wall with that same hand against my chest.
He grasped my breast, kneading it as his tongue slipped against mine.
“God damn it.” he growled into my mouth.
His other hand came up, slipping into my freshly washed hair at the nape, pulling me closer to him as he still stood on the tiled floor.
Water was spraying everywhere as I dropped the shower head, and it clanked loudly against the faucet.
“One day,” he spoke between desperate kisses, “I’m going to fuck you so good.
Just the way you deserve Lola Sinley. I promise. ”
His fingers trailed down my body, then dug into my thighs as he lifted me out of the shower. His mouth hovered over mine for a moment before he pulled back, and stepped into the shower himself.
I stood there stunned for a moment and watched as he adjusted the shower head, hanging it back its place in the hook on the wall.
I dried off, and pulled August’s shirt—a soft grey cotton with the Rumors album cover printed on the front—over my head, leaving the sweats on the counter.
I used my towel to mop up the water that was covering the tile floor with my foot as I kept my eyes on August’s hands scrubbing soap furiously over his whole body.
He noticed me watching and said “You can put a movie on if you want. I might be a little bit,” his cheeks glowed a deep crimson.
I nodded, understanding that he didn’t want me to witness this part.
“There’s leftover spaghetti in the mini fridge.” he said just as I was closing the door. “I didn’t know if you’d eat at the dance, so I brought some up after dinner.”
I pressed my face into August’s pillow for a moment, breathing him in shamelessly.
Cedar soap. Ink. Rainwater. The scent wrapped around me so completely that some embarrassingly animal part of my brain immediately thought about rubbing myself all over the sheets until they smelled more like me than him.
The thought made me grin against the pillow.
Outside, wind pushed softly against the window above the bed, carrying the distant hum of the music where all my friends were pretending to like each other more than they really did across the street.
The whole place felt suspended outside of time—like if I stayed here long enough the rest of my life might simply dissolve beyond the walls.
The bathroom door opened with a soft creak.
August stepped out barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his damp hair pushed back messily from his face now instead of carefully styled.
His skin was flushed pink from the shower, especially across his chest and shoulders where he’d clearly scrubbed too hard.
Fresh soap clung to him thick enough that I could smell it from the bed.
My chest tightened painfully at the sight. He looked softer like this. Human in a way I thought maybe very few people got to see.
I slid backward across the navy sheets without speaking, making room for him beside me. August’s expression warmed instantly at the gesture. He climbed carefully into bed beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. The second he settled, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
Then he paused. A quiet hum of satisfaction vibrated against my mouth. “You ate the spaghetti.”
Heat climbed into my face immediately. “Yeah,” I said softly. Then, after a beat: “About that…”
August’s brows furrowed slightly. I twisted the blanket nervously between my fingers. “I don’t have an eating disorder, August.”
The confession came out slow and cautious, like I was afraid the truth itself might hurt him. His expression shifted instantly—not angry exactly. Just confused.
“Then why did you let me—”
“I thought it might be easier to let you think that,” I interrupted quickly, “than to explain that my parents just don’t think to feed me.”
August’s face crumpled in realization. His taught shoulders went slack with the weight of it.
“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, one hand immediately rising to cradle my cheek. “Lola, I’m so sorry.” His thumb brushed shakily beneath my eye. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
I shook my head quickly. “No, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” My throat tightened unexpectedly. “If I’d known about Morgan sooner, I would have. I just…don’t really know how to explain to people that my dad cares more about looking like a good father than actually being one.”
His mouth tightened hard before softening again into something unbearably tender.
“I’ll feed you,” he said quietly. A kiss pressed against my cheekbone.
“I’ll take care of you.” Another kiss. Softer this time.
“I’ll be good to you.” The final kiss landed at the corner of my mouth before lingering there long enough to make my heart ache.
I closed my eyes briefly. “It won’t be like this forever,” I whispered.
August stayed quiet, listening.
“I’m going to move in with Mr. Hayward and his wife after graduation.
” Saying it aloud made the future feel suddenly fragile and real all at once.
“Then I’ll go to college.” I looked up at him carefully.
“And one day you and I will have our own house somewhere far away from here.” My voice softened.
“And we’ll never have to think about this place again. ”
For a moment August just stared at me. Not skeptical, but sad.
“I didn’t know you and Mr. Hayward were that close.”
I shrugged lightly. “I think he just likes my writing.” A small laugh escaped me. “He thinks I’m gonna end up on the New York Times bestseller list someday and wants a spot in my acknowledgements.”
August’s entire face lit up. “I didn’t know you wrote.” The sudden excitement in his voice made me unexpectedly shy.
I ducked my head slightly. “He’s the only person who’s ever read my stuff.” I traced my fingertip over the ring on my hand. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”
August smiled so wide it made me mirror it instantly.
“I’d like that.” He hesitated, almost bashful now. “I like writing too.”
“I know,” I teased softly. “You’ve had that ‘Draft One’ folder sitting on your desktop all year.” I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “You ever gonna tell me what’s in it?”
August immediately shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“Will you show me when it’s finished?”
After a beat, he nodded. “Yeah.” Something about the answer felt heavier than it should have.
August leaned in then and kissed me again, slow enough to make my stomach twist. He was so careful— like he was trying to memorize the shape of my mouth.
When he pulled back slightly, I whispered, “I love when you kiss me like that.”
His thumb brushed softly across my jaw. “Like what?”
I looked up at him through the dim gold light. “Like I’m yours.”
The expression that crossed his face nearly undid me. August’s thumb drifted to my lower lip, tracing it gently before he spoke.
“I meant it when I said it doesn’t bother me that you have a boyfriend.” His voice stayed quiet, controlled. “But it’s always bothered me watching him kiss you.” His gaze lowered briefly to my mouth. “Even before you asked me to tutor you.”
I frowned slightly. “Why?”
August let out a slow breath through his nose, like he’d thought about this far too much already. “Because he doesn’t care if they’re perfect.”
August’s cheeks flushed deeper as he continued quietly, “He just pushes his mouth against yours. Uneven. Quick. Possessive.” His jaw tightened slightly. “He never takes his time with you.”
The words landed somewhere frighteningly intimate.
“It drives me mad,” he admitted softly.
“Then how should he kiss me?” I whispered.
August stared at me for one long aching second before leaning forward again. His lips barely brushed mine when he answered. “He shouldn’t.”
Then he kissed me deeply, his body going flush with mine beneath the comforter. We stayed like that for a long time, tangled in each other. In love. Safe. Belonging only to each other.