Just then, Everett’s lips and stubble work their way down my cheek, to my jaw, nipping and kissing a path to this spot behind my earlobe that—
“Oh my God!” I all but shriek.
The sensation he just elicited is one I’ve never felt before, and it hits me square between the thighs.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he growls, doing something sinful to my body that reduces it to a puddle.
But I can’t fully give in.
“You didn’t call.” I breathe, my head spinning with his lips on my neck.
Everett pulls back, his green eyes blazing as he drinks me in. “I can’t think straight when it comes to you.”
Before I can say another word, his lips are back on mine, and those large hands are flirting with the hem of my sweater. Arching into him, until I can’t get any closer, I give him silent permission to take it off. Before he pulls back to remove it, I’m pressed against the large, rigid form of his arousal, so clear and present between us.
It’s big, and I know I have no experience, but I wonder idly just how that would fit inside me.
Slowly, so slowly that I want to scream at him to tear it off, Everett lifts my sweater from my torso, then over my head. We press together, our bare upper-halves, in the freezing cold.
But I’m so, so hot. Burning up against him, as he curses under his breath and fills his palms with my bra cups.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he bites it out like it pains him.
All I can do is blink, he’s reduced me to a mindless, needy thing. I press up, kissing him as our arms twine around each other. With each lap of a tongue, nibble of a lip, I’m brought closer to the brink of something I can’t quite describe.
As if he knows the cure, Everett stops us, grabbing his sweatshirt and laying it on the wooden plank floor. Then he maneuvers me until I’m lying down, the muscles of his bicep bulging as he lies on his side hovering above me.
“Do you trust me?” A lock of golden hair flops onto his forehead, making him look even more devastatingly gorgeous.
I should say no. I should say that he’s been sending me up and down like a roller coaster for weeks. But I don’t. Because I do trust him.
Gulping, I nod. I can’t possibly speak right now.
His hand crosses the boundary of the waistline of my black leggings, moving down as my heart thunders in my chest. I squirm, so turned-on that I can feel the wetness coating my thighs and between my legs. I should be embarrassed, or self-conscious, but all I feel right now is an arousal so sharp, I need relief.
Everett looks like he’s in agony, his head dropping to my chest, brushing kisses up and down my cleavage.
When he finally reaches my center, one finger sliding up and down my crease, I almost explode. My hips buck as electric shocks vibrate through my body. Everett brings his mouth back to mine, kissing me until I see stars. As I squirm against his hand, I don’t realize he pushes a finger into me until a sharp pain makes me cry out into his mouth.
“It’s okay, give it a minute.” He stills every part of his body.
The pain consumes me for a minute, until it starts to fade, the edges fizzling into pleasure. I seek his lips, trying to tell him it’s okay to keep going. He takes the hint, stroking inside me. My God, is this why everyone chases these encounters? I feel so good, so free.
Everett moves his finger faster, plunging into me as he kisses me senseless. When he adds another finger, something happens. It’s as if a trigger is pulled, something inside me snaps and fires.
I can’t catch my breath, my limbs won’t stop shaking, I might be crying or cursing but I can’t hear a sound my mind is so gone. Everett is chanting my name, telling me to let it all go. I follow the feeling, ride the high of it, until my vision begins to come back.
Holy crap. So, that’s an orgasm.
As I come down, I realize the milestone I’ve just crossed. I’m no longer a girl, one who wonders about sex and experiences and men. I’ve joined the club, the one where things become all that more dangerous but all that more fun.
Reaching for Everett’s pants, which are now tented to the point that I can see down them and the obvious bulge peeking out of his waistband, my mouth goes dry. I want to do this; I want it to be good for him, but I have no idea what I’m doing.
He puts his hand over mine. “Kennedy. This was about you. I’ve dreamed about seeing you like that for … Christ, for a long time. Tonight was about you.”
His words are more gentle and compassionate than I’ve heard from him in the entirety of his return to Brentwick. Here I am, thinking a monster is slowly pulling my heart into the darkness, along with his own, when he decides to surprise me.
Twisted, lonely Everett is one I can almost hate, one I can guard myself against.
But I have absolutely no chance against the boy who just gave me an unselfish gift. I have no shot if he starts speaking to me, treating me in the tender way he is now.
And I don’t want one.
24
Everett
Another muscle pops somewhere in my jaw, and I know that if I continue to grind my teeth during this game, I’ll lose a molar.
But goddammit, he’s looking at her like she’s a piece of meat and his next meal is a juicy, center cut steak.
“MYERS!” I explode. “Get your fucking helmet on, you’re going in.”
No mind that he’s not a very good player and we’re down by two touchdowns, but if he doesn’t get his eyes off of Kennedy, I’m going to fucking uppercut him.
It’s been a week since I made her come in the tree house, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. The way she looked as she unraveled, the endless amount of time we spent kissing, how I freely got to touch her after so many years of trying not to.
Fuck, it was heaven. And not something I’m sure I can repeat. Because what happens if I let her in, and she truly sees my soul. What happens when I hurt her, which is inevitable, what then? Kennedy has always been the girl I wanted to end up with. And if it ends, what will I have left?
It’s why I haven’t seen her. Why I haven’t texted. I’m sure it looks like I’m an asshole, hell I am an asshole. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here while Logan Myers makes fuck-me eyes at her and she smiles back.
One of our coach’s calls a timeout, and I stalk over to where she stands on the sidelines, in formation with the other cheerleaders.
I want to grab her arm, drag her to my car and kiss the hell out of her, but that would look pretty bad to this crowd. Plus, my knifed-up hero banner was discovered in the town square, and people have been asking questions. I don’t need more attention thrown my way.
“Can we talk?” I bite out, standing close to her.
She keeps up her peppy smile, but I see the panic in her big brown eyes. “Not right now, I’m cheering.”
“I don’t care.” My voice is all restraint.
“Everett—”
“This is not a request. Come with me now, or I’ll put you over my shoulder again.”
An audible sigh leaves her lips, and she turns to talk to Rachel for a brief moment before shrugging at me and motioning to lead the way.
Without an explanation to my other coaches, my position is purely for show anyway so who cares if I disappear in the middle of a game, I make my way around the bleachers. You’d think there would be people making out down here, or doing drugs. Typical high school shit. But all that’s there to witness our conversation is some old football practice pads and a couple empty Gatorade coolers.