Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Len
The drive home passes, and I can’t stop staring at Zaiah. No one has ever spoken up for me to my dad. No one.
I place my hand on his leg, and he slides his fingers through mine, squeezing while he steers with his other hand. I didn’t think anyone held hands like this anymore. So connected that they have to take up every available space, even the in-between.
Zaiah is like that, though. He likes the parts of me that others don’t. The parts that don’t glow all the time. The parts that aren’t perfect. The parts that I hid away because I wasn’t sure I was good enough.
“So, Zaiah?”
“Hmm?”
His brow furrows like he’s engrossed in some twisted riddle, but as the silence stretches, he peers over at me.
“Since you’re my puckable dating coach…”
A smile peels his lips apart. “Yeah?”
“What should I do if I really like a guy?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “You should tell him. Sometimes guys can be thick in the skull.”
“And how do I do that? Seduce him when I’m drunk?”
The laugh that escapes him makes my body vibrate with a giggle. He peeks over. “You could do that.”
More like did do that. “Do I tell him my deepest, darkest secrets?”
He squeezes my hand. “Yes.”
“Do I invite him to a hockey game I don’t even want to go to?”
A small grin ghosts his lips. “You could, especially if he’s loved hockey since he was a little kid.”
I tap my chin like I’m really thinking about something. “What if he adds me to his family group chat and kisses me in front of a whole arena of people?”
“Then he’s a goner for you, sweetie.”
My heart does funny things, stopping and starting in a strange cadence. My brain, however, keeps telling me that this is too good to be true. That Zaiah would never talk to me this way, and that I must be in some sort of daydream. “That’s good to know,” I say softly.
“Oh, that’s good to know?” he teases. “Okay.”
I rub my thumb over the side of his finger. “Well, I can’t take your advice right away. That’ll make me look silly.”
“Maybe I should take my own, then.” He glances in the rearview mirror and pulls over to the side of the road. The car vibrates over the ridges in the pavement lining the white lines until we come to a stop.
A car speeds past us, but it’s the time of night where the stars and the moon and the outline of the trees are all I can see as Zaiah twists in his seat. He squeezes the hand interlaced with his own on his thigh. “Lenore Robertson, I like you. Your awkwardness, your unbelievable brain, the way you can be a dictionary one second and then yell, ‘Looks like you need to borrow my glasses!’ at a ref the next.”
My face flames. Pretty sure I yelled that at his game. “You heard that?”
He runs his thumb across my skin. “I always hear you.”
His words settle around me like an embrace, wrapping me up tight. “Well, to be fair, he missed a lot of calls.”
Zaiah shrugs. “He’s a college ref.”
He stares into my eyes, and nerves skate over my skin. “Well, back to what you were saying,” I say, dragging in a long breath. “I think you were telling me something important.”
He reaches out to swipe a loose hair around my ear, then threads his fingers through my hair to cup my neck. “You’re special, Lenore, and I’m going to make sure you know it for as long as you allow me to. What else is a boyfriend for?”
I inhale a deep breath. “Boyfriend?”
He nods, leaning in for a kiss. My lack of hesitation surprises me when I move in, bridging the gap between us. He digs his nails into my scalp, and I let out a moan as he traces my bottom lip before kissing me with an intensity that has my mind spinning.
I’m kissing Zaiah James. It’s really happening.
I smile against his lips, and he returns the favor before we start again, my mouth seeking his first, relishing the way we meld together.
When we break apart, my breath comes out in short pants, and I’m clutching the collar of his shirt in my fist. I smooth it down. “I like you, too.”
The corner of his lips teases upward. “I know.”
I can’t keep a smile off my face. “So it’s official?”
“It’s been official. You’re a little slow on the uptake.”
“Oh, really?”
He squeezes my hand on his thigh again before sitting back, checking his side mirror, and pulling back out onto the road.
“So, how long have I had a boyfriend without knowing?”
“I’m torn between two instances. The moment you touched yourself in front of me…”
My face burns hot.
“Or when I walked in on you and Clark kissing that day after practice and realized I wanted to tear him away from you.”
“That…then?” I mutter incoherently.
I retrace his every word and sigh. My brain doesn’t kick in nearly as much, and when it tries, I bat the ugly thoughts away with a spikey mace.
Not in this world. In this world, the geek gets the guy.
I’m on a high until he parks outside Knightley, then up the stairs as he holds my hand, and finally when the suite door closes behind us.
“I don’t think you’ve stopped smiling,” Zaiah remarks.
“Sorry, that’s probably dorky.”
He pulls me toward him, his hand trailing down my spine until it cruises past my hips and over my ass where he takes a handful. “The opposite.”
I move into him, the hard outline of his cock on my hip urging me closer. “How do we do this? We live together. I don’t want to go too fast.”
“We take it day by day, sweetie. Tonight, though, I’m sleeping in your bed. I’m going to hold you and tell you that you can do whatever you want after you graduate. Then tomorrow, we can make a plan.”
“I like plans.”
“I know.”
“You’re okay with that?”
He kisses my forehead. “I want you to be comfortable. I’m just not giving you a choice for tonight because I’m selfish.” He pats my ass. “Now, go pull your cute pajamas on, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
He wasn’t kidding when he said he liked my ass. He squeezes it again, and a rush of heat flares between my thighs.
There’s not a chance we’re not having sex tonight, right?
I need to brush my teeth. I need to see what panties I’m wearing. I need to—
When I get out of my head, Zaiah’s already in his room, so I sprint toward mine. I brush my teeth first because if all else fails, that’s the most important. While I change into my pj’s, I check my panties and decide to go with a different pair, but instead of changing right into them, I turn on the shower and wait for it to heat up.
Jumping inside, I execute the quickest wash of my life, then a record-breaking towel-off session before I pull on the new panties. I realize my pajamas are in my room, so I walk straight to the dresser in my underwear to rifle through my drawers.
“Did you take a shower, sweetie?”
I jump, letting out a scream. I turn to find Zaiah spread out on my bed, smirking.
Oh my God, I totally walked in nearly naked. I flashed him.
I do everything in my power not to cover up.
He presses his lips together to keep from laughing.
“My pajamas are in here,” I mutter.
This time, he lets the laugh out. “Do you think I mind the full frontal? I’m tempted to ask you to come to bed like that…” His gaze drops to my breasts, taking his fill until he finally looks up again. He must see something in my face because he says, “Get dressed and come here.”
With my back turned, I tug on my pajamas, opting for a tank top and shorts with monkeys all over them. My body flushes with heat, and I take a deep breath before spinning toward him again.
“Those are cute. I especially like the way I can see your nipples poking through.”
My hands fly to my chest and I peer down, worried there’s a hole in my tank, but that’s not it at all. I’m nipping, and the tank is so thin you can see it.
“Get over here,” Zaiah demands.
I walk his way, kneeling on the other side of the bed. He pulls me the rest of the way to him, settling me on my side with his arm around my shoulders. When he talks, his breath fans over my lips. “I put in a movie. Hope that’s okay. It’s one of my favorites.”
“You’re not the type of guy that hogs the remote, are you?”
“I doubt I’ll even pay attention to it.”
He hits play, and I peek over to see he’s started The Mighty Ducks. My mouth drops. “I love this movie. Pretty sure I wore my copy out as a kid.”
“I had a feeling.”
“Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, Mr. Ducksworth!” I say, imitating a line in the movie.
He grins, eyes shining.
“I had a crush on Charlie.”
“Of course you did.”
“Especially in part two.”
“It’s knucklepuck time.”
I drop my head to his chest, body shaking as I hide a laugh. All the fears I had melt away in the blink of an eye. I cuddle next to him, and he places my arm across his stomach.
Maybe I should write an ode to abs. “ Ladies, don’t settle for less. They aren’t the thing of fiction .”
Dear God.
The movie plays in the background, but I’m more invested in real life. Zaiah’s thumb on my hip, tracing my curves. My fingers flexing over his abs.
Before I know it, the movie is nearly finished, and I peer up to find Zaiah’s eyes closed, his chest rising and lowering rhythmically.
I raise my arm, staring down at him. The hem of his shirt has lifted, and I spot a peek of his toned stomach. Behind me, the ducks are going into a Flying V, and if I could tug his shorts down a little more, I could see Zaiah’s V too.
“You checking me out?” He stretches his hands over his head to yawn, his shirt sliding up.
He goes to pull it back down, but I stop him with a hand on his. “I want to see you.”
I tug on his shirt, and he sits up, tugging it over his head before reclining against the wall again. I walk my fingers up his chest, tracing the muscles of his pecs.
“This hardly seems fair.”
“You already got a peek of me,” I tease.
“But you were so far away.”
My stomach clenches as I try to pull bravery from somewhere. “A piece of clothing for a piece of clothing?”
“Like strip poker without the game?”
I nod.
“Good. Because I don’t want to play games with you.”
Does he always know the right things to say? He takes my hand from his stomach, kisses it, and rests it next to the hem of my tank. I finger the stitching. “You want me to do it?”
He gives me a short nod, staring at me. My fingers shake. I’ve never undressed for a guy.
I find confidence in his gaze, in the way he swallows while he waits with his eyes glued to me. My clumsy fingers grab the hem and lift, dragging it past my stomach and over my breasts until I drop it off the side of the bed.
“God,” he breathes.
I shut my eyes for a moment, clinging to my fading bravado. He’s not running away screaming, so that’s a good sign. I open them again, and his eyes are still on me, tracing me. I can almost feel his concentration like a physical touch.
I let him get his fill until I get antsy. “Pants?”
“Just pants?”
I nod slowly, watching as he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his joggers and yanks down, bringing his feet up to free his legs. I don’t watch them fall to the floor, my gaze honed on his bulge. He cups it, and I decide I’m a big fan of boxer briefs. They leave nothing to the imagination.
“Now you. Though it’s hardly fair. You’ve been teasing me with those skimpy shorts since you put them on.”
“A deal is a deal.” I lie back, shucking my monkey shorts off and returning to the same position I was in. Zaiah reaches out and tugs me close, my breasts pressing against his bare skin.
“Give it to me straight. How drunk were you the last time we did something?”
I swallow the dryness in my mouth. “I wanted it, Zaiah. I wanted you.”
“And now?”
I take a deep breath, letting my thoughts ruminate. It’s hard expressing them. They could bring rejection, but this newfound certainty I find in him shoves me forward. He’ll be careful with me. He has been since day one. “I want you in a different way.”
“Be completely clear, Lenore. What do you want?”
“I want to feel you inside me.”
“My fingers?”
I shake my head, tracing my hand down his chest and brushing against his length. “Your dick. What do you want, though?”
“To bury myself inside you.” He lifts my chin so I can see his eyes. “I want to feel it when you come this time.”
I suck in a breath. “You do?”
“More than anything.” His hand leaves my chin and lands on my breast, his thumb tracing my nipple.
A surge of pleasure jolts through me. “Zaiah…”
He circles my nipple until it’s hard, his strokes making me breathless.
“We need to get rid of these,” he instructs, dropping his other hand to my panties.
We lean back, both pushing our last pieces of clothing off while we look at each other. Immediately after his boxer briefs are on the floor, his hand fists his cock.
I watch in awe as he strokes himself. “Condoms?” I squeak out.
He leans over, pulling a box from my bedside table. I lift my brows at him, and he smiles. “You’re not the only one who likes to be prepared.”
He beckons me over, grabbing my face. The kiss is so fierce, so passionate, that I lose myself in it. In the captivating way his mouth and tongue work in synchronization. I’m so engrossed that I nearly crawl out of my skin when his fingers find my hips.
He smiles into my mouth. “I need to get you ready for me, sweetie.”
He parts my legs, sliding his fingers up my inner thigh until he finds my folds. He teases me there, and I buck into his hand. Pleasure warms my core. “Zaiah.”
“I know,” he says, lifting up to take possession of my mouth. Miraculously, his fingers don’t stop. They tease my entrance before he pushes a finger inside, and I shift against his palm.
My stomach twists. “Zaiah, I’m worried I won’t last…” I ride his finger, the pressure building until it explodes in a frenzy. A cry flies from my lips, followed by, “Sorry!” as I break into a million pieces.
He moans into my mouth. “You’re killing me.” He strokes his finger inside me, teasing out my aftershocks. “Tight and wet. Lenore.”
I moan, the sound coming from somewhere deep within. “I’m sorry. I wanted to wait.”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. That was fucking beautiful.”
He pulls out, then switches to two fingers. I grip his bicep like an anchor when he restarts his rhythm.
“I don’t know if I…” I swallow. “If I can.”
His jaw sets like I’ve laid down a challenge. Leaning forward, he captures my lips again. His whole body works in tandem to fire me up once more. I move with him, moans pouring from my mouth.
He brings me to the brink again, my mouth dropping slowly… Then he pulls away.
A sound of protest hums from my lips.
“Fuck,” he breathes, ripping his lips from mine. “You’re so responsive.”
My nails sink into his skin. Heart thundering, I peer over, pressing my thighs together to somehow recapture the feeling. When nothing works, I pout. “What happened? Why did you stop?”
“It’s called teasing, sweetheart. Don’t you worry. You’re going to have more.”
He rolls my back to the bed, following after. Spreading my legs, he teases my clit while he kisses a trail down my chest, stopping at my rib cage and making his way over to the curve of my breast.
He flicks his tongue across my nipple, and my hips jerk up when he closes his mouth over me, his tongue circling.
“Zaiah. I want to feel you. Please.”
“Feel what?”
“Your dick, baby. Your dick.”
“Not this?” He drives two fingers inside me, pumping as I grip his shoulders and hang on. He doesn’t stop until I’m breathing heavily, the familiar sensations swirling through me.
“Oh,” I cry. “ Please .”
He strokes inside me a couple more times, then retreats again, leaving me empty.
“Zaiah,” I groan.
“I want to feel this perfect pussy come around me.” He reaches into the condom box and brings one out. After ripping it open, he slides it down his length. I watch him between my legs, a thrilling sensual picture. He fists his cock, moving his grip up and down. “Did you think about this?”
I nod. My skin buzzes in anticipation, my hips searching for something that isn’t there yet.
“You touched yourself, naughty girl?”
I moan, something about his words firing up my nerve endings. “So many times.”
He grabs my hips, tugging me closer. The head of his dick rubs against my clit, and I jump. The sensation doesn’t stop, and I stare down to find him fisting his tip in circles over my clit.
Warmth spreads through me. My knees fall to the mattress, and I grip the sheets in my hands. “Zaiah, are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“One hundred percent.”
“It’s working.” I moan. “I want to feel you.”
“You wouldn’t believe the view I have of you right now, Len. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Tell me you believe it.”
I swallow, trying to imagine what he sees. I’m desperate for him. Flushed. Squirming.
His voice grows darker. “Tell me.”
I shift on the bed, and he follows, still keeping the same maddening swirls.
“You’re gorgeous. I want to fuck you so badly. Sink my dick into your pretty pussy. You feel the connection, don’t you?”
I nod, breathless.
“So beautiful. You were made for me.”
I moan as the heat starts to envelop me. It’s everywhere and growing stronger. Building. Building.
“Say it.”
“I was made for you.”
“Good girl.”
A jolt surges through me at his words, like a precursor to pleasure.
“Now say you’re beautiful.”
“Zaiah…” My hips move with him. I’m almost…there.
“These breasts. These hips. These curves. Fuck, Len. Say you see it.” He angles his cock down, and the head slips inside.
“Ahh!” I try to rock with him, but he expertly moves it back up to my clit, not missing a beat. “Zaiah.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
I press my lips together. Again, I try to imagine what he sees. My hair fanned out over the bed. My body ready, waiting, dying to be fucked by him. “I’m…beautiful.”
“Again.”
His harsh command whips through me, triggering my orgasm. “I’m—”
“Len!”
“Beautiful!”
He thrusts inside me as my body starts to contract. My walls close around him, and that sensation sparks a surge of pleasure as he rocks into me at a gentle pace. I ride out the long aftershocks like waves crashing onto the shoreline again and again. Unrelenting.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he pants.
He thrusts, sinking so far into my sensitive flesh that I cry out.
He moans into my neck, kissing me softly. “Better than I imagined, sweetie.”
“You felt me?”
His forearms move to the bed, propping himself up so he can continue his strokes. “Every perfect part of you.” He ravages me with kisses across my sensitive skin, my mouth, my neck, my collarbone. He doesn’t stop. “I see you.”
Those are the sexiest words I’ve ever heard. Who doesn’t want to be seen? Who doesn’t want all the little parts of them to be bare to the world and accepted? And that’s what this is. A complete and utter acceptance in the most perfect way.
“I see you, too,” I whisper.
He drives inside me harder, faster. Sensory overload has my body shaking until I’m trembling beneath him.
It’s a different sensation—more powerful in some ways—the reaction he has to me. The furrow deepening in his brow. The way his muscles tense. The moan that escapes his body like it was dragged out of him from the depths of his soul.
Knowing I’m doing that… No feeling can compare. “Zaiah.”
He drops his forehead to mine. Our breaths mix in heady pleasure.
I run my palms down his muscular arms, then back up, threading my hands around the sweat-dampened nape of his neck.
We move against each other in earnest, my brain switching off and letting my body takeover while we eke out every pleasure we can. We’re joined for a long time. A steady state of connectedness, of acceptance, of chasing after the next sigh and the next, our moans a chorus of contentment.
My third orgasm builds and builds until, at the exact perfect moment, it throws me over while he buries himself inside. I gasp, clinging to his back. It takes control of my whole body. I have no say in the noises that fly from my mouth or the movements of my limbs.
He makes one more short pump until he, too, follows, his cock pulsing inside me. His whispered words into my skin fill me, bolstering me like a therapy session I didn’t know I needed.
Once we both come back down, I rest my head against the pillow, closing my eyes, savoring the last remnants in utter bliss.
Zaiah stays seated there for the longest time, comfortable in silence. When he finally pulls out, a groan sounds straight from his chest. He cups my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Perfect.”