I nod, considering. "What's left?"
"The apartment—that was pre-paid until the end of the school year—my personal stuff like my computer, my team swag . . . but that's it. Sorry, babe. I don't think we're taking any more motorcycle rides up to Mission Park for a while."
I lean over and kiss him, smiling at his worries. "I'm not with you because of your money. You could be dirt poor, with no job prospects, and I'd still love you because of who you are."
Duncan smiles and gives me an awkward, one-armed hug. "Well, lucky for you, I'm not quite dirt poor yet. I still have a thousand or so in a personal account. And with your help, I've got great employment prospects. So hang on for just a while, and we'll be on easy street."
"Easy street? Hmm, maybe. But first, we've gotta get that arm rehabbed. You know, I'm surprised that Coach Bainridge didn't stop by."
Duncan shakes his head. "Coach sent me a text right before the surgery. He's got a meeting with the University President and the AD, then he'll come by after that. He wants to talk about when Western is going to schedule its Pro Day for the scouts. I think he wants to give me as much time as I can to rehab the arm."
"Sounds like he cares about you."
"I know. Funny, huh? In June, I would have sworn he didn't give a damn about me. Then again, I didn't give a damn about him either. I guess things have changed."
I give Duncan a kiss, our lips playing with each other. When his hand comes up, cupping my breast through my t-shirt, I moan and chuckle at the same time, breaking the kiss to look him in the eyes. "Well, you haven't changed all that much."
Two days later, I get a phone call just as I'm helping Duncan change the wrapping on his sutures. We're in the bedroom, since I've put all the stuff for Duncan's care on the dresser that I've moved from my dorm room to the apartment. I pick up my phone, surprised when I see who it is. "Whoa. It's the Honor Board."
"Well, are you going to answer it?" Duncan asks, taking the rest of the bandage from me and wrapping it himself. He's wearing a team polo shirt and some shorts, since before changing out his bandage, we did his first rehab session, just passive movement that had me moving his arm for him. "Not pretty, but it'll do."
"Hello?" I say, answering the call. Duncan tucks the end of his bandage into the rest and attaches the clips. "This is Carrie Mittel."
"Miss Mittel, this is Dean Friar. How are you this evening?"
"Just fine, Dean. Happy New Year."
He hums in appreciation, and I can imagine him nodding on the other end of the line. "Why, thank you. And Happy New Year to you, too. In fact, I have some good news to start your new year. I just got done reading the report, and I'm ordering that all concerns involving you and the Honor Board are dismissed. We just got the rest of the computer forensic report on your phone finished. I must apologize to you."
"What happened anyway?" I ask. While I talk, Duncan's moved behind me, massaging my shoulders. His hands are strong, and I groan slightly when he finds a tight little knot next to my neck and rubs it until it releases. It feels so good.
"Miss Mittel? Are you okay?"
"Yes," I reply, and I hear Duncan chuckle behind me. He knows what he’s doing, and right now, I don't mind too much either. We haven't been able to be intimate since right before I left on Christmas break, which means that for over a week, the most we've been able to do is hug and frequently kiss. But his hands . . . oh God, his hands . . . "Just happy to have it over."
"Well, the forensics have shown that it was, in fact, Chelsea Brown who was behind it all. If you don't mind, when did she have access to your personal materials?" I have to think twice about what he just said, because Duncan's hands have moved from my neck and shoulders down my back, urging me to lie down. I roll over, onto my belly, and he straddles my hips, his cock already hard in his shorts and his fingers working in slow, wonderful circles up and down my spine.
"Probably the trainer's office, or maybe my dorm room. She knew where I lived. She stopped by every once in a while. We were . . . friends, or at least I thought so." Duncan's hands sweep outward, working my back muscles, and I lift my hips just a little, feeling his cock pushing against my shorts. So hard . . . so perfect. My breathing quickens, and I know the Dean can hear me near-panting.
At least, he sounds concerned as he continues. "Well, in any case, I've notified the Athletic Department, and you are now eligible to resume your internship. Best of luck."
"Thank you, Dean. Good evening."
I hang up my phone and toss it to the side, growling and working around, rolling underneath Duncan until I'm on my back, his hips still straddling mine. "You are incorrigible!" I laugh reproachfully. "You hear me on the phone with the Dean of the Honor Board, and you pick that time to try to seduce me?"