I’ve completely humiliated myself. Why did I have to go upstairs with Benjamin? I don’t even like him. The entire time he was touching me and kissing me, I was imagining it was Logan’s hands on me, his mouth tasting me. What had I said to Logan? My mind was so fuzzy, but I distinctly remember coming on to him. He had rejected me of course. Why would he want some drunken girl doing her best to be a slut? The comment he made in the bedroom comes flooding back to me in a painful rush. “Little girls don’t get to play big girl games.” That’s all I was to him—just some stupid little girl. And I puked in front of him. That was not cool. He was so gentle with me this morning, though. I just don’t understand him sometimes. If he was so furious with me, why did he touch me the way he did? He was so gentle and intimate. I want that from him so much. I’m sure he just felt sorry for me.
My head is pounding, and it’s nearly lunchtime by the time I feel any semblance of normalcy. I feel better once I get some food in my stomach, and by mid-afternoon I think I’ll live. I spend a few hours getting ahead on reading for school. I do a couple loads of laundry to get me through the week, and then I sit in my room depressed. I want to see him so much. I need to talk to him about last night. I need to explain. I need him to forgive me for being so stupid.
I know I shouldn’t, but I hop on my bike and head to his place. It is cold and the ride over miserable. By the time I reach his place, my knuckles are white, and I’m afraid they’ll break if I move them. I run upstairs to escape the cold and knock on the door. He answers. He doesn’t look happy to see me, and I look away, suddenly nervous.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you about last night. Or … I mean … I wanted to apologize about last night.” I can’t look at him.
I’m suddenly terrified that he’s going to kick me out, but he doesn’t. He holds the door open but doesn’t make me feel at all welcome. I enter and nervously stand by the door as he looks at me, waiting for me to speak.
“Please don’t be mad at me. I was so stupid last night. I can’t stand that you’re upset with me.”
He stares at me for a long moment without saying a word before he sighs. “Come with me.”
He is obviously not happy to see me, but at least he’s not kicking me out. He leads me to his bedroom and leaves me there, returning with my pajamas. He makes no move to give me privacy and silently stands back with his arms crossed across his chest, waiting for me to change. My nipples are taut just at the thought of his eyes on me. I slide my shirt over my head and throw my tank top on before wriggling out of my bra. I try to pull my tank top down over my hips as I slide my pants to the floor. Logan is still standing like a statue, watching me intensely. And though my heart is pounding, he looks completely at ease, maybe even bored. I pull my pajama pants on quickly before sitting down on the side of his bed.
He then grabs an old pair of navy sweatpants from a drawer and starts stripping off his shirt in front of me. My heart stops working when I see him fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. I stare at him as he stares back at me. As he pulls down his pants, I can see that he is wearing black boxer briefs. His stomach looks perfect against the designer waistband, and I keep staring. I’m likely not the best judge, but he is aroused and very large, and it shows deliciously beneath the distended fabric. I can’t help but remember the last time I was in this room and how good his arousal felt against my own swollen wetness. I could stare at him all night but don’t get the chance before he pulls on the sweats and saunters back over to the bed. He lies down, pulling me with him.
We lie facing one another for a few minutes before he finally speaks. “Did something happen with your father today?”
Regardless of the way his body appears to be responding to me, he still doesn’t sound happy I’m there. “No.”
“You should have called. It’s too cold for you to be riding that stupid bike around town. I would have come to get you.”
I’m practically whispering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Damn it, Rowan. You don’t bother me. Why do you always think you’re in my way or bothering me or annoying me?”
I shake my head, near tears. “I don’t know.”
The fragile emotion in my voice causes him to suddenly soften and reach out to stroke my cheek. I choke back the tears and find my voice. “It’s hard letting you help me all the time. I don’t want to feel like a burden, but I do. Your family has always done so much for me, and it’s hard when you have nothing to give back. I have nothing to offer you, but I take from you all the time. It makes me feel guilty. It always has.” My voice is husky and strained with my choked back tears.
He closes his eyes in remembered pain. “You feel like a burden because the last time we were together, I made the mistake of using your situation to hurt you. My family loves you, and you are no burden to us. You never have been, and I had no right to say that you leech off of us. You didn’t deserve that, and I was being cruel out of anger. I don’t think that. I like having you here. I like being with you.” His voice is serious, but his smile is gentle. And I smile, too.
He pauses, wanting to speak but considering his words. “Do you like Benjamin?”
“No! No! No!” I’m a damn broken record, but I’m desperate for him to understand.
He smirks at my response. “Did it feel good when he was sucking on your nipples?”
I gasp at the use of his blatant language. “No.”
“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Still smirking, and now with a raised eyebrow.
I consider my words. “It wasn’t what I wanted.”
“You’re being coy. You either enjoyed it or didn’t. Which is it?” Add a cocked head.
“It just wasn’t what I expected. I mean… It was different than I thought it would be.”
“It was different than it has been with other guys?” Curiosity lights up his eyes.
I look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“…than the other guys you’ve been with?”
Now I’m blushing. “There really aren’t other guys.”
He considers this. “So then, would it stand to reason that you’re still a virgin?”
I quietly answer, the heat of my cheeks scorching my skin. “Yes.” I look down, not wanting him to see my face.
But he gently pulls my chin back up to look at him. “I like that you’re a virgin. I think you should stay that way for a while.” He looks relieved. I feel like an idiot. He seems content I’m so clueless, and I wish for the gazillionth time I wasn’t such a loser. What else is new? He finally reaches over and turns the lamp off, and as I start to drift off, he kisses me gently on my forehead. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I hate that I was so cruel.” I never thought I would sleep in his bed again, and I am thrilled.
As I lie there in the dark, I can’t help but wonder how I’ve gotten myself to this place again. What was I thinking? I have to stop this, yet as the thought enters my mind, I acknowledge instantly that I can’t. What was I thinking touching her the way I had this morning? I was furious at her for the night before and had every intention of laying into her first thing this morning, but I couldn’t help but touch her. As though touching her somehow reclaimed her body from the hot Benjamin Aaronson, whom I now irrationally hate. I might as well have humped her leg like some dominant male dog. Her bottom felt so round and perfect. I didn’t want to stop. I must have had my hands on her for nearly a half an hour this morning. And then I kissed her neck to make it worse. Every time I get angry with her, I end up wanting her and touching her. Why does she do this to me? And what was I thinking taking my clothes off in front of her? I was so aroused by watching her change and wanted her to see me, see what she was doing to me. I had no business letting her know that she had affected me that way.