34
Bananas for You
Nash
Kylie knocks once and comes in without waiting. “You summoned me.”
“Yeah.”
She smiles. “Very demanding.”
I lift the blanket, and she gets in without saying anything else about it, climbing over my legs because the bed’s against the wall and there’s no other way. Her knee goes straight into my thigh on the way past. Rafe’s at Barnes’s. I’ve got a hockey game playing on the laptop at the end of the bed.
She puts her head on my shoulder and starts telling me about Kenzie and Tessa and people in her classes. None of it has anything to do with me, and I lie there and listen to every word.
At some point, she’s moved down and over until her cheek is on my chest and one leg is across mine.
My hand ends up under the back of the hoodie where it’s ridden up, and I run my fingers over the warm skin low on her back while she keeps going.
The game’s still playing at the end of the bed.
I haven’t looked at it since she got here. I couldn’t tell you the score.
She picks her head up. “Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“What did I just say?”
“Something about Tessa.”
“Oh my God. So you weren’t listening.”
“Kenzie’s pissed at the thumbs-up guy, Tessa’s got bad taste in music, and somebody in your class sucks.”
Kylie stares at me.
“Sucks dick,” I correct myself. “That’s what you said.”
She smiles, big and dumb and about four inches from my face, with her chin on my chest and her eyebrows up like she’s waiting for me to be a dick about it. I get my hand in her wet hair and kiss her instead.
I didn’t tell her to come over here for this, and she knows it. She kisses me back slowly, and it doesn’t go anywhere. She settles in closer and starts talking again with her mouth about an inch from mine, something about goggles, and I peck her lips at the end of every sentence.
Around midnight, she starts nuzzling her face into my side, so I reach down, shut the laptop, and put it on the floor. Then I sit up, pull my shirt off over my head, and drop it off the side of the bed. She watches me do it and snuggles in.
“I could seriously get used to this,” she says, smiling.
I turn off the lamp. She gets herself arranged against my side with her knee over my thigh and her hand on my chest, and I keep tracing her back under the hoodie with my mouth resting on the top of her hair, and that’s how I go under.
I wake up at three-something hanging half off my own mattress with my left arm dead underneath her, and I have to piss so fucking bad it hurts.
Getting out from under her takes a while.
She’s got a knee between my legs and an arm across my stomach, and when I try to slide the arm out, she tightens on me like she doesn’t want me to leave.
“Kylie,” I whisper.
She’s very clearly asleep, even when she grabs me and pulls me closer.
“Kylie, I need to piss.”
I peel her off me a limb at a time and put a pillow where I was so she doesn’t wake up on cold sheets.
When I come back, she’s taken the whole bed.
She has my pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek, the hoodie sleeve pulled down over her fingers.
She stole that hoodie Friday. She’s worn it four days running and told me twice that it’s hers now, and I stand there in the dark thinking I should get it back before Thursday, because it’s the one I like.
There’s about eight inches of mattress left.
I could move her against the wall, and she probably wouldn’t wake up.
I stand there a few more seconds anyway, looking at her in my hoodie in my bed with her mouth open, and it goes through me that I’m going to be doing this again next week, and probably the week after that, and if I’m not, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with myself.
I pick the blanket up off the floor and get into what’s left of the bed and put it over both of us. She comes across the mattress and finds me without ever surfacing. She kisses my shoulder and falls back asleep.
I come up out of it again because she’s moving.
For a while, I think she’s getting comfortable, and then her hand goes down my stomach and keeps going.
It’s gray in the room. My alarm hasn’t gone yet, which puts it before five-fifty, and Kylie’s propped up on one elbow looking down at me, wide awake.
“Hey, you,” she says.
“What are you doing?” I murmur. “It’s early.”
“Early bird gets the worm.”
She kisses my chest and watches my eyes.
She nips me with her teeth, and I jump. She smiles and takes her time going down, her hair dragging over my skin after her mouth.
She doesn’t touch the scar. She goes straight to the line of my hip and kisses it, licks it, sucks it.
I’m already hard, and she knows it. I get my hands in her hair, and she bites the top of my waistband and kisses me through my sweats.
“Kylie.” I touch her face. “Baby.”
She pulls her bottom lip in and reaches inside my sweatpants. Her fingers are cold when they wrap around me.
Fuck this. I go to sit up, and she pushes me back down.
“You’re following my pace this morning.”
I fall back, close my eyes, and breathe. I can try. I focus on the pull of her hand, and then she takes the tip into her mouth, and I’m about to lose it. She takes me deep, and my toes curl.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
She takes her time. She pulls all the way back and licks the length of me, and with her other hand, she reaches up and runs her fingers over my stomach. She smiles while she does it. Then she takes me deeper, and I breathe through it.
“Fuck, baby.”
“Mm,” she says, and moves faster.
I gather her hair in one hand and hold it out of her face.
She looks up at me, and I know that look now.
She’s checking. She does it when she says something she thinks is funny, too, that little pause where she watches my face to see if I got it.
I always get it. I don’t always give her the satisfaction.
She gets it now, though. Whatever she sees on my face makes the corner of her mouth turn up before she takes me deeper.
“Fuck, Kylie.”
It hits hard enough that my head goes back into the pillow.
She doesn’t stop, and I have to put my hand flat on the mattress, because if I put it back in her hair, I’m going to forget how careful I’m supposed to be with her.
I come down her throat, and she swallows it.
She pulls back, sucking the tip, which is sensitive as hell, and then she sits back on her heels with the blanket around her.
I stare at her. Her hair’s everywhere. Her cheeks are pink, her lips are red, and her eyes are so fucking blue.
“What are you doing to me?” I breathe.
She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth and doesn’t say anything. Her eyes stay on mine. I put myself away and put both hands behind my head.
“Kylie Vandercook,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’ve never—”
She crawls over me with the blanket behind her and sits on my hips, blushing. “Don’t leave me hanging, Nash.”
I take her thighs and run my hands up until I’m sitting, face to face with her. I kiss her and let her suck on my lips, and then I pull back and look at her.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” I whisper.
She takes my face in both hands, and her fingers move up and down my cheek, and she smiles at me so sweetly that my heart’s trying to get out through the ceiling.
Then she says, “Nobody’s ever sucked your dick before?”
My heart drops to the floor.
“That’s it,” I mutter.
I grab her, blanket and all, and spin her onto her back. Her legs open and let me all the way against her. I rest my forearms on either side of her face. She’s laughing the whole time with her hands on my shoulders.
“I’m kidding.”
I kiss her. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“I’m right there with you, Nash.”
I shake my head.
She touches my face. “I’m serious. It wasn’t like this with my ex.”
That stops me.
She pulls my face down close to hers and whispers, “This is so much better.”
I slide my hand into her pajama pants and under her underwear, and she’s soaking. “So what does that mean?”
She inhales when I find her and press a finger in. She grips my shoulders and lets the breath out. I add a second finger and watch her face go soft. I work them in and out, curling, with my thumb circling at the top.
Her brows pull together. “What does what mean?”
“You and me,” I say, watching her, and pick up speed.
Her head falls back. Then her eyes come open properly, and she’s looking at me, and her hand closes around my wrist. She isn’t moving it. She’s holding on. I don’t stop. I slow down.
“You said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” I remind her.
She breathes out through her mouth, and it takes her a second to get anything else out. “I said I didn’t want one after Evan.”
“Yeah.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Her hips move once against my hand, and then she goes still on purpose. “You.”
Everything in me locks up, my hand included.
“Nash—”
“Hold on.”
“Don’t hold on.”
“Look at me.”
She does. Her chest is going, her hair’s stuck to her forehead, and she’s got my wrist in a grip like somebody’s about to take me away from her.
“You want me to be your boyfriend.”
It doesn’t come out as a question. I don’t know how to make it one.
Her eyes go wet fast, the way they do when she’s furious, except she isn’t furious. She blinks it back, still holding my wrist. “Yes.”
I start moving again, slow, and watch what it does to her mouth. “Say it.”
“You’re such a—” Her whole body lifts off the mattress. “Yes. I want you to be my boyfriend. I’ve wanted that for—”
She stops herself.
I pause. “For what?”
“For a while.”
I put my other hand under her jaw and turn her face up and kiss her. She kisses me back so hard it hurts. Her nails go into my forearm, and I don’t slow down for one second of it. She says something into my mouth that isn’t words. Her knee comes up.
“Then you’re mine,” I tell her. “That’s it. That’s what it means.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not sharing you with anybody.”
“Okay—”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” I say, rubbing deeper circles, and her hips buck.