Boyfriend Bargain(39)

“No.” I love how greedy he is for me.

His kisses are soft and achingly tender as he rubs my shoulders, his hands caressing as he touches my chest from behind, not quite in the places I want him, but just enough to keep me squirming. He removes my bra and cups my breasts, making me gasp. I’m pushing at my leggings and underwear and kicking them across the room.

He chuckles at my rush and leads me over to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”

I do, keeping my head turned so I can see him undress. He watches me watch him, his movements languid and slow as he takes his shirt off. I bite my lip at the sculpted muscles there, the rock-hard abs that lead down to the deep V at his hips. He unzips his pants and pushes them down.

Stalking toward me, he passes by his nightstand and clicks the light off, and for a second, I see a flash of something desolate on his features as he looks at the piece of furniture. Then he blinks and shuts it down.

“Z? You okay?” I prop myself up on my arms.

He gets in next to me on the bed, and my hands take his face, soothing the lines there. He sighs. “Yeah. Just…sometimes…I don’t know.” His grey eyes search mine as if he wants to say more, wants to tell me something.

Instead he kisses me and moves behind me until I’m forgetting that lost look on his face. I’m a limp mess by the time he’s massaged his way to my arms and fingers, giving the most finite attention to each body part.

“Do you have any idea how lovely you are?” he says, and something in his voice gets to me. I toss my head back and look at him, and I don’t think he meant for me to do so because there’s a scared expression on his face.

“What is it?” I turn around more.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. A long breath is released from his chest. “Nothing.”

I turn and crawl to him and kiss him. His arms come around me and hold me tight, so tight, and we kiss until I can’t think, until that expression I saw on his face is gone. Soon, his hands are pushing me down to my stomach and he’s tying me up and I’m breathing hard, waiting for him to make me his…

And that’s all we know for a long time.





* * *



It’s hours later when something wakes me up.

My eyes open and blink around the room, getting my bearings as I try to figure out what happened. It’s still dark outside, but my body feels as if it must be close to dawn.

There’s a groan next to me where Z is flailing around on the bed, his legs jerking. Loud bellows come from him, and I give him a gentle shake.

“Z, you’re having a bad dream.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to startle him, but he doesn’t hear me. My hand touches his shoulder. “Z…wake up.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting open wide as he jumps straight out of bed and blinks rapidly.

“It’s me,” I say, getting up and putting my feet on the floor. Feeling around in the dim light, I grab my glasses that I set on a chair next to the bed last night. I see one of his HU T-shirts and my underwear so I snatch those up and slide them on too.

He just stands there, looking dazed, his chest heaving.

“You’re shaking,” I say as I walk over and click the lamp that’s on his nightstand.

He blinks at the light.

Fear pricks at me when I see the pain on his face.

“Bad dream?” I ask. Willow? is the question on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t bring her up. We’ve spoken about his nightmares, but he’s never had one with me. I have a morbid curiosity about them, but mostly, I haven’t asked. He keeps things to himself, and I trust he’ll tell me everything eventually.

He seems to come to, his eyes focusing as he looks at his phone. “It’s four.”

“That’s super early. Let’s go back to bed.”

An agonized expression crosses his face. “I can’t. Once I’m awake…it won’t get out of my head…” He stops and rubs his jaw.

I sigh, nodding. I pad into the kitchen and head to the sink, fill a glass with water, and take it back to him. He’s sitting on the bed when I return, his head bowed in his hands.

I put the cup in his hands and he blinks at it, as if he forgot I was here, and then he takes a sip and puts it down on the nightstand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” With a heavy breath, he stands and snatches up last night’s clothes. He puts them in a hamper then goes to his dresser, picking out new clothes. “I’m getting out of here for a while.”

“Where?”

“For a run.” He pulls on a long-sleeved black running shirt and athletic pants.

“The sun isn’t even up.” I know he runs early, but I’m here today and that hasn’t happened before.

“I’ll wear a reflective vest.” He pulls on socks and then shoes, tying the laces harshly. “It clears my head.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I mean, I can’t skate worth shit, but I can run, and for some reason, I don’t want him to be alone. “I have some clothes and shoes in my car that might work, and if you give me a jacket—”

“No,” is his swift reply. He pauses and brushes his eyes over me. “Look, I’m sorry to leave you, but I want to be alone. You can stay as long as you like. At least your truck is here.”

My fingers pluck at the edge of his shirt, which falls to mid-thigh. “When are you coming back?”

He grabs a knit hat from a dresser drawer. “Later. I’ll probably head straight to the gym and get in a workout and shower. Then I have class, and then…” He stops and stares at me, a frown on his face. “It’s getting to be crunch time with our games, Sugar. I’ve got to keep up the work and keep everything cool. No stress. Feel me?”

I frown. He likes to do things a certain way because it helps him feel more focused. Still, I’m left winded by his easiness at leaving me, especially since I didn’t see him all weekend.

I feel a prick of fear.

Something awful and terrible feels right around the corner, but I just don’t know what it is.

“Sure.”

Then he’s brushing his lips against mine and he’s out the door, closing it behind him. I hear him going out the front of the house, and I plop down back on the bed. “He didn’t even say bye,” I tell Long John Silver when she jumps up beside me. She hisses, stalks off, and claws at the door until I reopen it and let her out.

I mumble under my breath as I dig around on the floor for my pants. There’s no way I can go back to sleep, and maybe I need my own space.

After going to his bathroom to fix my hair, I shove my arms in my coat and walk out of his door. I turn the corner to the kitchen and see Reece sitting at the table in a pair of leopard print underwear. His face is…weird…and I don’t think he sees me, so I clear my throat.

“Don’t mind me. On my way out,” I say politely.

He jerks his face toward me in the hallway and flinches when our eyes meet. “He woke me up.”

“He went for a run,” I say, stopping in front of him.

I see an expression on his face, perhaps pity. He shakes his head as if clearing it and narrows his gaze at me. “Do you know where he runs after a nightmare?”

I do, sort of, but I keep my mouth shut. Z likes his privacy.

His gaze is unwavering. “He goes to see where she’s buried.”

My nose flares.

“You should ask him more questions, you know.”

“Like what?” I stand there, waiting, feeling that trickle of foreboding inch up my spine.

“Have you ever seen a photo of Willow?”

“No.”

“She was beautiful.”

He plays with the HU Lions salt and pepper shaker set on the table, his eyes staring out the bay window next to the table. “I was in love with her, you know. Sometimes I thought it was reciprocated, but you could never tell with her. She’d string me along when she and Z would fight, and I always held out hope…” He stops and grimaces. “She kissed me the night she died, but it was a pissed-off, getting back at Z thing. My lips were the last ones to touch hers.” He stares down at the table, the salt shaker in his grip. “She was going to have his baby, but I would have done anything to have her as mine.”

I blink, struggling to keep up. Does Z know all this? Is this why they aren’t close?

“You’re nothing like her,” he grinds out. “I mean, sure you—”

He stops, his lids closing.

My heart drops. I keep my mouth shut and wait. Just wait.

“I hear him thrashing around in there, reliving that night. He…I…we saw her on the rocks. She was thrown from her car.”

Dread gathers within me and questions teeter on my lips, but I know this isn’t an appropriate time. “I’m sorry.” No other words are adequate. None. “Maybe you should talk to Z.”

He flinches, his eyes coming back to me. Anger colors his face as he takes me in and opens his mouth to say something but then presses his lips together.

“What?”

He glares at me. “I wish you would go away. You remind me of…everything.”

His words are like bullets and my chest clenches, trying to make sense of them. I tug my coat around me, feeling cold even in this warm house. I shake my head, not knowing how to respond. He’s grieving, obviously still working through something, and I can’t argue with that right now.