I shiver when he snakes both hands beneath my shirt and slowly drags it up to my collarbone. He plants a soft kiss between my bra cups before pulling the shirt over my head. Rough fingertips skim my hips and tickle the top of my mound as he drops to his knees, drawing the cotton fabric of my yoga pants down with him.
All I can see is his dark head hovering inches from my thighs, and it’s such an erotic sight, so fucking hot, that I can hardly breathe. When his mouth grazes the sensitive nub that is already swelling with desire, a bolt of pleasure nearly knocks me off my feet, and I grip the top of his head to steady myself.
“Okay, nope,” I announce. “I’m never gonna be able to stay upright if you’re doing that to me.”
With a chuckle, Garrett stands up and scoops me into his arms as if I weigh absolutely nothing.
We land on the bed with a thud, laughing as we lie on our sides facing each other. We’re both naked and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
When he speaks, it’s so nonsensical I’m genuinely caught off-guard. “I thought your name started with an M.”
“You thought my name was Mannah?”
Garrett snickers. “No, I thought your name was Mona, or Molly, or Mackenzie. Anything with an M.”
I don’t know whether to be insulted or amused. “Okay…”
“For almost two months, Hannah. I went two months without knowing your name.”
“Well, we didn’t know each other.”
“You knew my name.”
I sigh. “Everyone knows your name.”
“How did I go so long without noticing you, damn it? Why did it take seeing a stupid A on your midterm to make me notice?”
He sounds so genuinely upset that I scoot closer and kiss him. “It doesn’t matter. You know me now.”
“I do,” he says fiercely, and then he slides lower and captures one of my nipples in his mouth. “I know that when I do this…” he sucks hard, a moan flies out of my mouth, and he releases my nipple with a wet pop. “…you moan loud enough to wake the dead. And I know that when I do this, your hips are going to start rocking, like they’re searching for my cock.” He licks my other nipple, flicking his tongue over it, and sure enough, my hips rock involuntarily and my sex clamps around aching emptiness.
Garrett props himself up on one elbow, his biceps flexing against my shoulder. “I also know that I like you,” he says gruffly.
A laugh shudders out. “I like you too.”
“I’m serious. I really fucking like you.”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I simply grab the back of his head and bring him down for a kiss. After that, everything becomes a blur. His hands and lips are everywhere, and a wave of pleasure sweeps me away to a beautiful place where only Garrett and I exist. He leaves me only to reach for the drawer next to his bed, and my pulse races because I know what he’s getting, what’s about to happen. The tear of plastic breaks the darkness and I glimpse a flash of him rolling on a condom, but rather than get on top of me and take control, he moves onto his back and hands me the reins.
“Ride me.” His voice is raspy, trembling with need.
Gulping, I climb onto his lap and grip his penis with one hand. He’s long and thick and imposing, but this position allows me to control how much of him to take. My pulse gallops like a racehorse as I sink down on him. I experience the most delicious stretching sensation as I lower myself inch by inch, until he’s all the way inside, and suddenly I’m full. So damn full. My inner muscles clutch his erection, ripple around him, and he unleashes a desperate sound that rings through my body.
“Oh fuck.” Garrett’s fingers dig into my hips before I can move. “Tell me about your grandmother again.”
“Now?”
His voice comes out strained. “Yes, now, because I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before, but you are tighter than a—okay, nope, not gonna think about how tight you are. What’s Nana’s name?”
“Sylvia.” I make a valiant effort not to laugh.
His breathing grows audibly labored. “Where does she live?”
“Florida. Retirement home.” Beads of sweat break out on my forehead, because Garrett is not the only one close to losing it here. The pressure between my legs is unbearable. My hips want to move. My body craves relief.
Garrett releases a long, ragged breath. “Okay. I’m good.” His white teeth gleam in the shadows as he grins up at me. “Permission to proceed.”
“Thank. God.”
I lift myself up and slam down so hard we both groan.
This kind of blinding need is new to me. I ride him in a fast, furious pace, but it’s still not enough. I need more and more and more, and eventually I’m just grinding against him, because I’ve discovered that when I lean forward and do that, my clit brushes his pubic bone and intensifies the pleasure.
My breasts are crushed against his rock-hard chest. He’s so masculine, so fucking addictive. I kiss his neck, and find his skin hot beneath my lips. He’s burning up, his heartbeat hammering wildly against my breasts, and when I lift my head slightly and see his face, I’m held captive by his expression, the taut stretch of his features and the intense pleasure glittering in his eyes. I’m so focused on him that when the orgasm hits me, it catches me by total surprise.
“Ohhh,” I cry out, sagging against him as a rush of sweet bliss races through my body.
Garrett rubs my back as I gasp in pleasure. My sex contracts, milking his hard shaft, and his fingers dig between my shoulder blades as he curses. “Hannah…oh fuck, baby, that’s hot.”
I’m still catching my breath when he starts thrusting upward, fast and deep, his hips snapping up as he fills me, over and over again until finally he gives one final thrust and groans. His features tighten, dark brows drawn together as if he’s in pain, but I know he’s not. I kiss his neck again, sucking on his feverish flesh as he trembles beneath me, holding me so tight he traps all the air in my lungs.
After we’ve both recovered and the condom is disposed of, Garrett crawls beside me and spoons me from behind. The heavy weight of his arm makes me feel safe and warm and treasured. So does the way he flattens his palm on my belly and absently strokes my naked flesh. His lips press into the nape of my neck, and I can honestly say I’ve never been more content in my life.
“Stay over tonight?” he murmurs.
“Can’t,” I murmur back. “I have to return Tracy’s car.”
“Tell her it was stolen,” he offers. “I’ll vouch for you.”
I laugh softly. “No way. She’d kill me.”
Garrett rests his cheek on my shoulder, rotating his hips so that his semi-hard cock rubs against my butt. He sighs happily. “You’ve got the sweetest ass on the planet.”
I have no idea how we got to this point. One day I was telling him to get lost, the next, I’m snuggling in bed with him. Life is so frickin’ weird sometimes.
“Hey,” he says a while later. “You don’t work Friday nights, right?”
“No. Why?”
“We’re playing Harvard tomorrow.” He hesitates. “Maybe you want to come to the game?”
I hesitate too. I feel like I’m getting in over my head. I told him things tonight that I’ve never told anyone, and I’m pretty sure his confession about his father isn’t something too many people know, either. I don’t want to ask him what it all means, though. I’m terrified that I’m reading too much into it.
I’m terrified of making it real.
“You can take my Jeep,” he adds, his voice gruff. “I’ll be riding on the bus with the team, so it’ll just be sitting in my driveway anyway.”
“Can I bring Allie?”
“Sure.” He kisses my shoulder, and a shiver runs through me. “Bring anyone you want. We could use the support, actually. Away games suck because nobody’s ever cheering for us.”
I swallow the odd little lump in my throat. “Okay. Yeah…I guess I can do that.”
We go quiet again, and I suddenly becom
e aware of the hard ridge poking against my butt. His very obvious erection makes me laugh. “Really, dude? Again?”
He chuckles. “What was that you were saying about my stamina the other day? Shame on you. Dude.”
Still laughing, I roll over and plaster myself to his warm, hard body. “Round two?” I murmur.
His lips find mine. “Fuck yeah.”
30
Hannah
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Dexter announces—for about the millionth time—from the backseat of Garrett’s Jeep.
Next to Dex, Stella sighs and voices her agreement—also for the millionth time. “I know, right? We’re in Garrett Graham’s car. Part of me is tempted to go Carrie Underwood on it and carve my name into his leather seats.”
“Don’t you dare!” I order from the driver’s seat.
“Relax, I won’t. But I feel like if I don’t leave my mark on this car, nobody will ever believe I was in it.”
Hell, I can’t believe she’s in it. I wasn’t surprised when Allie jumped on the chance to come to Cambridge with me, since she’s still on the quest for details about Garrett, but I was startled when Stella and Dex insisted on coming along.
So far during this car ride, both of them have asked me at least twice if Garrett and I are dating. I’ve replied with my standard response—we just hang out sometimes. But it’s getting harder to convince even myself of that.
We blast music for the rest of the drive. Dex and I sing along, and our harmonies are ridiculously awesome—why didn’t I ask him to duet with me, damn it? Allie and Stella can’t stay on key to save their lives, but they join in for the choruses, and we’re all in high spirits when I pull into the parking lot of the hockey center.
I’ve never been to Harvard before, and I wish I had more time to explore the campus, but we’re running late as it is, so I usher my friends inside because I don’t want us to lose out on finding seats. I’m floored by how big and modern the arena is and how many people are here tonight. Luckily, we find four empty seats near the Briar team’s side of the rink. We don’t bother hitting up concessions since we ate a shit ton of corn chips in the car.
“Okay, so how does this game work again?” Dexter asks me.
I grin. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I’m a black kid from Biloxi, Han-Han. What the fuck do I know about hockey?”
“Fair enough.”
As Allie and Stella chat about one of their acting classes, I give Dex a quick rundown of what he can expect. And yet when the players hit the ice, I realize my explanation hasn’t done it justice. This is the first hockey game I’ve seen in person, and I don’t expect the roar of the crowd, the deafening blare of the PA system, the lightning fast speed of the players.
Garrett’s jersey is #44, but I don’t need to look at the number to know which black-and-silver-clad player he is. He’s the center of the starting line, and the second the ref drops the puck, Garrett wins the opening faceoff and snaps the puck back to Dean, who I thought was a wing but is apparently a defenseman.
I’m too busy watching Garrett to focus on any of the other players. He’s…mesmerizing. He’s already tall without skates on, so the added height makes him appear massive. And he’s so fucking fast I have a tough time keeping my gaze on him. He flies down the ice, chasing the puck that Harvard has stolen from us and checking the opposing player like a pro. Briar takes an early lead, thanks to a goal by a player the announcer refers to as “Jacob Berderon,” and it takes me a second to realize he means Birdie, the dark-haired senior I met at Malone’s.
The clock on the scoreboard ticks down, but just when I think Briar will shut out Harvard in the first period, one of the opposing forwards gets a fast snapshot past Simms to tie the game.
As the period ends and the players disappear into their respective tunnels, Dex pokes me in the ribs and says, “You know what? This ain’t half bad. Maybe I should start playing hockey.”
“Can you skate?” I ask him.
“Naah. But it can’t be that hard, right?”
I snort. “Stick to music,” I advise. “Or if you’re really determined to get into sports, play football. Briar could use you.”
From what I’ve heard, our football team is putting up the worst record the school has seen in years, winning only three of the eight games they’ve played so far. But Sean said they still have a chance to make it to the post-season if they, and I quote, “get their motherfucking shit together and start winning some motherfucking games.” It makes me feel sorry for Beau, who I genuinely enjoyed talking to at the party.
The moment I think about Beau, Justin’s face swooshes into my head like a gust of wind.
Shit.
We have a dinner date Sunday night.
How the hell did I forget about that?
Because you were too busy having sex with Garrett?
Yep, that’s it.
I bite my lip as I debate what to do. I haven’t thought about Justin all week, but that doesn’t trump the fact that I’ve been thinking about him all semester. Something drew me to him in the first place, and I can’t just ignore that. Besides, I don’t even know what’s happening between me and Garrett. He hasn’t brought up the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I don’t know if I want to be his girlfriend.
I have a type when it comes to guys. Quiet, serious, moody. Creative, if I’m lucky. Plays music is always a plus. Smart. Sarcastic but not in a snide way. Unafraid to show his emotions. Someone who makes me feel…at peace.
Garrett has some of those qualities, but not all of them. And I’m not sure peaceful is the accurate word to describe how I feel when I’m with him. When we’re arguing or shooting wisecracks back and forth, it’s like my whole body is wired with electricity. And when we’re naked…it’s like an entire Fourth of July fireworks display going off inside me.
I think that might be a good thing?
Fuck, I don’t know. My track record with guys isn’t exactly a series of successes. What do I know about relationships? And how can I be certain that Justin isn’t the guy I should be with if I don’t go out with him at least once?
“So why do they call it the crease?” Dex asks in fascination after the second period commences. “And why does it sound so dirty?”
On my other side, Allie leans in to grin at Dexter. “Babe, everything about hockey sounds dirty. Five-hole? Poke check? Backdoor?” She sighs. “Come home with me one time and listen to my dad yell Jam it in! over and over again when he watches hockey, and then you can talk to me about dirty. Not to mention uncomfortable.”
Dex and I laugh so hard we almost fall out of our chairs.
*
Garrett
As the guys and I shuffle out of the guest locker room after the game, we’re still riding the high of crushing the home team. Even though it’s one of our sophomores who landed that last beauty of a goal that secured our win, I’ve decided that Hannah is my good luck charm and must now attend all of our games, because the last three times we played Harvard, we got our asses handed to us.
We agreed to meet outside the arena after the game, and sure enough, she’s waiting there for me when I walk outside. She’s with Allie, along with a dark-haired chick I don’t recognize and an enormous black guy who I’m amazed isn’t on the football team. Because he should be. Maxwell would come in his pants if he had a monster like that on his O-line.
The moment Hannah spots me, she wanders away from her friends and walks over to me. “Hey.” She looks surprisingly shy, and she hesitates, as if she’s not sure if she should hug or kiss me.
I solve her dilemma by doing both, and as I brush my lips over hers, I hear a victorious “I knew it!” echo from her friends’ direction. The exclamation comes from the girl who isn’t Allie.
I pull back to grin at Hannah. “Keeping us a secret from your friends, huh?”
“Us?” She raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize we were an us.”
Now is definitely not the time
to discuss the status of our relationship—if it even is one—so I just shrug and say, “How’d you like the game?”
“It was intense.” She smirks at me. “I notice you didn’t score a goal, though. Slacking much?”
My grin widens. “I sincerely apologize for that, Wellsy. I promise to do better next time.”
“You’d better.”
“I’ll score a hat trick just for you, how about that?”
My teammates shuffle past us and head for the bus waiting twenty feet away, but I’m not ready to leave Hannah yet. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” She sounds like she really means it.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” The team has another game tomorrow, but it’s an afternooner, and I’m dying to get Hannah alone again so we can…yeah. “I thought we could hang out after I get back from—” I stop talking when a shadow appears in my periphery vision, and my shoulders set in a tight line when I spot my father descending the front steps of the building.
This is the point of the evening I dread. Time for the big nod, followed by the silent walk-away.
As if on cue, I get the nod.
But not the walk-away.
My father startles the shit out of me by saying, “Garrett. A word.”
His deep voice sends a chill up my spine. I fucking hate the sound of his voice. I hate the sight of his face.
I hate every goddamn thing about him.
Hannah’s expression creases with concern when she sees my face. “Is that…?”
Instead of answering, I take a reluctant step away. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I mumble.
My father is already halfway down the parking lot. He doesn’t even turn around to check if I’m following him. Because he’s Phil fucking Graham, and he can’t imagine someone not wanting to be around him.
Somehow my stiff legs carry me in his direction. I notice several of my teammates lingering at the door of the bus, watching us curiously. A few of them are visibly envious. Jesus. If they only knew what they were jealous of.
When I reach him, I don’t bother with pleasantries. I just scowl and speak in a terse voice. “What do you want?”