He pulls out and rolls to his back, panting, sweaty. There’s a void left behind I’m not sure anyone but him could ever fill. I’m not ready to acknowledge that yet.
I tilt my head toward him, grinning. “You’re on my turf now. You should know, I also like to starfish in the middle of the mattress, and we’ll be fighting to see who ends up with the blankets wrapped around them like a burrito by morning.”
“For as much as we have in opposition, we also have in common.” He kisses my nose then hauls himself upright to dispose of the very full condom. “Don’t fall asleep without me. I want a fair start on this next competition.”
By the time he climbs back onto the mattress, I’m losing the fight to stay awake. It doesn’t matter he didn’t achieve his three-to-one ratio. I’m all about quality over quantity.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks as he situates me against his side. Probably so I won’t shove him off the mattress.
“I should be the one offering you hydration.”
His laugh rumbles through me. “Worth the dehydration. I’ve been saving that up for a while now.”
His admission brings up a slew of questions that pelt my exhausted body. “I thought I wanted to know what was running through your mind before, but it pales in comparison to how much I wish I knew exactly what you were thinking now.”
“Hmm,” he hums as he pulls me closer. “Not a thing. I’m as satisfied as a man can be and flirting with nothing but sleep.”
The ringtone that filters from somewhere on the floor makes me laugh. It’s the State Band cadence for pregame. He fishes around near where I stripped his pants until he comes up with his phone. He doesn’t hit the Decline button after he checks the caller ID. He doesn’t add it to his reminders since he’s busy right now.
“Hello, Sarah Sunshine.”
I chuckle and snuggle in closer to his heartbeat.
I might not be ready to say the words, but my heart and mind already know what I won’t admit aloud.
I am irrevocably in love with James Fossoway.
Even though I know he’s exhausted, I fall asleep to the sound of him keeping a promise to my sister.
Chapter Thirty-Five
After you’ve slept with someone, everything you once noticed about them appears different. Those big guns? Yes, they’re droolworthy, but they’ve also proven to be comforting when they’ve cradled your body in both passion and sleep. Those muscular thighs? Someone takes leg day very seriously, and it has benefits beyond looking good. Those thighs are just as powerful when thrusting into another body as they are on the weight machines. And that mouth? The one that has lips so full, so firm, so delicious yet so masculine? That mouth is the stuff dreams are made of. Even when it’s currently yelling at the trombone section to get their shit together and make their spots on time.
“What’s up with Jimbo’s new look?” Kim wrinkles her nose while he claps and counts as he runs them through the drill for the umpteenth time. “I thought facial hair wasn’t allowed during the season. Just because he’s a drum major doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to follow the same rules as everyone else.”
“He’ll shave for game day.” I’m not about to admit he hasn’t had time to shave in the morning for the past week because we roll out of bed at the last minute to get to classes on time after pulling all-nighters that have nothing to do with studying. And frankly, I don’t like her tone. “We’re not traveling to the away game this weekend, so he has plenty of time to experiment with a new style before cleaning up next week.”
“Experiment,” she scoffs.
I always used to enjoy Kim being on my side when it came to my showdowns with Jimbo, but her dislike gives me pause. Is she another woman scorned by his devotion to me? Does her hatred spring from a similar place as mine used to? He’s one hundred percent committed to the band and a hell of a leader. Even I’ve never denied that.
“Yes, experiment.” I’d like to think I would defend him even if we weren’t sleeping together. Disrespecting student leaders isn’t good for the band in general. Never in all our years of competing did we ever do anything to publicly humiliate each other in a way that would have undermined our roles. “Men can experiment with different styles the same way women do. It’s no different than us trying out a new hair color or different makeup.”
And Jim really does love experimenting. Doggy style, scissoring, sixty-nine, slow and easy spooning first thing in the morning, on the couch, in the kitchen, under the shower. He’s ravenous, and the more he wants, the more I want to give him. We have an unspoken contest to see who can discover the wildest position. I checked a copy of the Kama Sutra out of the library this morning, and I have plans to blow more than his mind tonight.
She shakes her head. “Well, I think he needs to call this experiment a failure. Facial hair is not a good look on him.”
I stare at her in disbelief. It’s a proven fact that a beard increases a man’s sexual appeal by two hundred percent, and Jim is definitely no exception. I’m actually sorry he’ll have to shave it off for game day. That scruff scraping against my skin is the perfect counterpoint to the torturous pleasure he gives me.
Maybe I was wrong about her being spurned by Jim. Maybe she’s a lesbian. It’s the only explanation for the beard effect not working on her.
“He is a good drum major though,” she concedes as he praises the trombones for finally getting it right.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to come across as a leader not tolerating disrespect instead of a girlfriend who doesn’t suffer anyone bad-mouthing her man.
“I still voted for him even though he basically bribed my whole section to vote for you.”
Wait. What? “Bribed … how?”
She shrugs. “He told them he’d guarantee any of them who pledged ITK automatic membership. They wouldn’t even have to jump through the usual hoops. No pledge period, no hazing, nothing. They’d just be in.”
My mounting anxiety disappears in a magical puff. There’s no way that’s true. ITK has more rules and tradition than I ever imagined. And even though Jim is president, he’s a servant to ITK as much as a leader. That wouldn’t be his decision alone to make. Besides, he’s already blacklisted a rookie who showed interest that he didn’t think would be a good addition to the frat. There’s no way he’d give an entire section carte blanche to join.
Kim is just trying to stir the pot.
“He is a great drum major. I’ve never known anyone who loves band so much.”
I leave her with those words to chew on. The other drum majors are working with specific sections, but as head drum major, I can’t stay in any one place too long. My job is to oversee the entire practice.
Dr. Kimball nods on the sideline as the band runs the whole drill again. “I think the rookies are adjusting well. I was a little worried they wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around a new show so soon.”
“I’m actually more worried about how that might change with this week’s challenges,” I confess. “I still think it’s bad for morale—to be nervous about losing your spot every week.”