He doesn't respond to my question, just grins, and I know I'm in trouble because one glance at that smirk makes me dizzy.
I cut my eyes to his hands; he's pinching off a piece of green bud between his fingers and leans forward to fill the bong.
"Don't you need to wash your hands?"
He raises a brow and pauses to ask, "Why?"
"Because..." I can't say it. I shouldn't have mentioned it, but I could feel the slickness between my legs still, where his fingers had been.
"Why, Brook?" His dizzying smile becomes teasing and heart stopping as he runs those fingers over his lips, innocently enough, like he's considering something, but his green eyes deepen as he watches me.
My hands fly to my face, covering my embarrassment. "Forget I said anything."
His warm touch wraps around my wrists, and he pulls my arms down. His laughter is louder than the blood rushing through me.
"What's wrong?"
All my focus is on his grip until I look up into those eyes and that strong jaw softens when he laughs and his dimples show.
"You know why. You can't just go around with... on you." I cringe with a groan. "And now it's on the weed and you're going to smoke it. Oh my-"
He's full on laughing now.
"I don't know why you think it's so funny. You need to wash your hands before you touch anything else."
He drops my wrists, but his hands slide to my thighs, tugging me towards him. "When we're done, I will. I've barely touched you, but I like you on me. I don't want it off, I want more."
"You said we'd talk." My stomach clenches and heat surfaces, prickling my skin. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens on my thighs.
"We're talking. We'll keep talking. But I don't think I can keep my hands off of you." The tips of his fingers skim under the edge of my skirt. He lifts his gaze to me, and I don't know what he sees because I'm equal parts on fire and frozen. Scared and excited. About to flee, but about to tackle him too.
His hand leaves my thighs to lift my chin, making me meet his eyes. "Is that okay? That I keep touching you?"
It's beyond me to say no, but I'm not sure I can't say yes either.
"Have you been touched before Brook?" It's a lusty whisper.
He needs to stop talking. He needs to stop saying my name. He makes it sound intimate and dirty and it's driving me crazy. And his intense gaze lights me on fire, heating me to combustion.
So I try to change the subject "Weren't you going to smoke? I didn't think football players could. Do you do that often?"
He drops back on the couch and his hands leave me, the absence of his touch is felt everywhere.
"We can't. I don't do it often. There's only a few days a year where I can." His eyes narrow. "Why, you going to tell on me?"
"No." I squeak with the accusation. "I was just talking. I wouldn't-"
He waves me away and picks up the bong. "I was just fucking with you. It'd be your word against mine, nothing you could prove anyways."
I watch, silent, as he puts the opening of the bong to his lips, the tube filling with thick grey smoke. His breath seems endless as he sucks it down, then he leans back and releases it in slow swirls. An earthy scent fills the air.
He's still watching me with a critical gaze. He said he was joking, but everything felt different now.
"Maybe we should go back out there with the others." I look towards the door, not wanting to end it like this, but not knowing how to save it.
"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want to be around me. You keep trying to run away."
"I'm just not sure how this goes." My fingers grip around the cushions, holding me in place.
"Don't overthink it." He brushes the hair off my shoulder, but stays relaxed back in his seat. "I don't want to be around them tonight. This is my one night off, I'm taking it. You can stay with me, or go out there. Your call. But I want you to stay."
"You do?" I close my lips on my over eager words, cringing at how needy I sound. "I mean, it's your night off and if you'd prefer to be alone, you won't hurt my feelings."
"Stop. Relax." He pats my knee as he sits up and picks up the bong again. "I don't want to be out there, because I'm always with a group, always on. Tonight, I'm relaxing, and yeah, I want you here. You're nice to look at." He winks at me and hesitates before putting his lips back on the bong. "Fun to play with too."
And like a fool, I only focus on the compliment. He thinks I'm pretty. A bubble of delight forms in my chest. I sit back and he turns to me, blowing smoke into the air.
"Did you want to try?" He sets the tall glass on the coffee table. "Your call."
When I hesitate he demands, "Say no."
"No." And his returning smile puts me at ease, but my desire for his approval leaves me unsteady.
"Where are you from Brook?" A smile pulls on his lip as his gaze lingers over me.
"Here." I let out my breath, but stay tense, nervous about the new direction. "Well actually, Kingstree, two towns over."
"Did you go to a private school?"
I shake my head. "Did you?"
"No, but you seem... different." He stares like I'm different, something to be studied.
"Why? Because I haven't smoked?" All my confidence from his earlier comment vanishes and I drop my eyes to my hands tangled on my lap.
"There it is again. That innocence. You don't even try and hide it."
"Oh, I'm trying to hide it. I'm just not very good at it. You are making me nervous."
His white teeth shows as he laughs and his hand lands back on my thigh. "I can tell."
"I can't be the only one. I imagine you make lots of girls nervous."
"Not really." There's a playful spark in his eyes that's dangerous, that could talk me into anything. "Not when we're alone anyways. But those aren't virgins. You are a virgin, aren't you?"
Since I'm clearly see through, I nod, determined not to be embarrassed about this.
His reaction is painful. The way his eyes shut and he swipes his hand over his face is louder then anything he could say. All that's missing is a groan.
I'm about to stand when he sits up and grabs my hand.
"How the hell does that happen?" His eyes run down my body and back up. "You're sexy, guys had to have noticed you."
"I want to be more than noticed." But the truth was, I wasn't noticed, not in that way. All people noticed about me was my sister. Which is probably why I was still sitting here now, clinging to the attention he was giving, it had nothing to do with her.
His smile is slow forming. "So how far have you gone?"
"That's not-" I shake my head, his clouded gaze dries up my ability to talk. "You can't ask that."
He dips his head, looking up at me through thick lashes. "I need to know. Before we take this farther, I need to know."
"We're only talking. And I think I shared enough for now. What about you?"
"I think you know I'm not a virgin."
"That's not what I meant." I laugh too loud and slap his arm, overly excited to release the built up tension. This feels like a train wreck that I can't walk away from. "How long have you been at Eastern? Did you live in Florida all your life? Any after college plans?"
"Are you serious? That's what you want to talk about?" His smiles have vanished, but this new hard look is as sexy as it is intimidating.
I shrug. "We can talk about something else."
"Always lived in Florida, until I came here. I'm a junior and it's the NFL after this." He stares at me like he's sizing me up. "But you already knew that."
"Not really. I mean, maybe I should have. I could have guessed most of it." I shake away my confused response. "When did you fall in love with football?"
The lines in his jaw eases and the corner of his lip tugs up some. "Fall in love? That's one way to put it."
"What would you call it?"
He moves in slow motion, dropping his eyes to his fingers as they slide to my leg again. "It's what I was made for. It's what I live and breathe for. I didn't fall in love with it, it possessed me. It's who I am."
"I'm sure there's more to you than that." I cover his hand on my knee; I don't even think he realizes he put it there.
"Not anything that matters." He states it like it's a simple fact.
"What about your family? Do they-"
"So many damn questions? What the hell is this? An interview?"
"I just-"
"You're just nosey as hell." He pulls his hand away and his knee is bouncing. "and this twenty questions is getting fucking annoying."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." It takes a moment to calm myself. "I was curious about you, but it wasn't my intent to offend you or upset you." I'm frozen in place as I apologize, and only take a breath when he turns to look at me.
"Fuck. Now you're going to make me look like the asshole here." His hands scratch through his hair, setting the short, loose curls wild. "Do you have to be so polite?"
"Would it be better if I traded insults with you instead?" I lift my hand with the question, honestly confused. "There was no need to snap at me in the first place. If I'm getting too close, just tell me, I'll back off."
That dangerous glint is back in his eyes, but I can't look away, it sucks me in. His anger is covered with something else now, something just as heated and intense, and he inches towards me, voice just as slow.
"I don't want you to back off." His hands grip either side of my waist and the fabric of my shirt bunches under the flex of his fingers. "I've been trying to get close all night." He tugs me forward and I fall into him, unprepared.
I brace my hands and forearms on his chest as he wraps his arms around me, one hand sliding up my back to my neck with a wave of heat and electricity that has my heart dancing. His other hand drops lower, gripping my butt as he pulls me onto his lap. It all happens in one breath, and just that quick he has me straddling his lap, and his lips are sucking on my neck.
My gasps are a mix of pleasure and shock as his hands continue to move me, melting me. I never realized someone could mold me so effortlessly.
His hair is thick and silky between my fingers as I run them over his scalp, something I'd been wanting to do since I saw those wet curls earlier. But as his teeth scrape my collarbone, his chin pushing down my top, I curl my fingers in his hair and pull his head back, off of me.
"Whoa." I'm still trying to catch my breath, but the look in his eyes makes it hard, his hands on my hips, holding me against him, make it damn near impossible. "This isn't what I meant."
A sly smile glides across those lips that had felt great on my skin and his fingers bite into my hips as he rubs me against him, the friction there makes me squirm and I have to close my eyes or lose control.
"Then tell me to stop." But he doesn't stop, he uses my weakened grip on his hair and dips his head, licking up my neck.
All the sensations, hot and cool, pressure and tingles, force out the moan that I had been trapping in the back of my throat. And I feel his lips glide up into a larger smile as his breath bounces in my ear with his laugh.
But his laugh cuts off when I find my voice.
"Stop."
He freezes, lips still on my ear. "What?"
"Stop." I remove his hands from me and stand. "This was..." I take a breath and step away. "But it's too fast. I told you that."
He nods, watching me as he slides his hands over his legs, but he doesn't move to get up. Doesn't say anything as I continue to back away, not until I'm at the door.
"Have a good night, Brook."
"Yeah, you too." Everything in me is chaos, every inch of me is on fire, but I step out of the room, closing the door behind me and gulp in the cool air-conditioned air. I walk slow down the hall, to the living room, gaining a little more control with every step.
But the living room is empty and the house is silent. I don't know where Rose went to.
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Welp, have you guys noticed this story is written in present tense, instead of past? Yeah, before I started writing I never paid attention to that stuff, but it is. That's just how the story started, I was half way through the first chapter before I realized what I had done, but I went with it. I may go back and change it to past tense. Just a warning. But who knows maybe I wont. We'll see.
Brings me to my next point. As a writer, my goal was always to get better, do better, write a better story. But you know what? I'm letting that go. This story (and my others) are each different, I cant compare them and I've been slowing my writing by wanting/needing it to be better. So from now on, I'm just going to write- no expectations.
With all that being said, you all are great, cause the above pressure was all placed on myself. None of you complained, in fact you all that comment are freaking champions at giving motivation. Rock on!
So now, I think I will focus on TRASH this week- that just sounds wrong.
Go now and make monday your bitch! (But you know, comment and vote first! ;) )