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Agitation gathers. “I didn’t realize my girlfriend needed to send you personal memos every time she breathes.”
He shoves my chest, hard and quick.
I stumble out, tripping over my feet, and he slams the door in my face.
Me and my fucking mouth. My pulse is in my throat now that he touched me. I’m not a fighter.
I flee, but he doesn’t know that.
Swallowing my heart rate, I try to call Willow.
The line rings out, and I send a text: I’m here. Salvatore locked me out.
Yeah, I’m throwing the douchebag under the proverbial bus. He can eat shit.
My phone vibrates.
Lo: You there yet? There’s a party at Willow’s flat. Make sure this prick named Mattie isn’t in her room or around her.
What the fuck is happening?
Worry mounts, and I pound a fist on the door. “WILLOW! WILLOW!”
The door swings open.
And this time, it’s her. Glasses slip down her nose, beer spilt on her plain blue tee and jeans. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear your call over this…?” She winces at the party behind her and looks uncomfortable, shoulders bowed in and head ducked.
I come inside and shut the front door behind. “You didn’t know they were throwing a party?”
She shakes her head.
Fuck.
She rubs her arm. “How was the flight?” She says something else, but I can’t hear her soft voice over the noise.
“What?” I lean into Willow, a hand on her waist.
She takes a breath and whispers in my ear, “Do you need to a shower, after all the traveling?”
“Yeah, that’d be good.” I eye the glares from Salvatore and his guy friends.
She follows my gaze and shoots them a look like, stop. The force dies as the front door whooshes open behind us and more students file in with cases of beer.
Willow tries to step out of the way, but she bumps into another girl. “Sorry,” she whispers, and I clasp her hand. Drawing her into my chest.
She clutches onto my waist and calms more.
My mouth brushes her ear. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down that hall.” She points to the left.
I wrap an arm around her frame, and Willow leans into me while I guide her through the party. Once we’re in the small bathroom, I lock the door.
We’ll probably get shit for occupying the only bathroom here, but I don’t care. This is Willow’s apartment too.
“This isn’t how I wanted you to see my new place,” Willow says softly. “With people that I don’t even know.”
I drop my duffel on the bathmat. “Like this Mattie guy?”
Her eyes bug, then realization washes over. “Lo told you?”
“Not much.” I push hair out of my eyes. “Can you fill me in here?”
She does. The whole story. It takes probably ten minutes, and we’re both leaning against the sink cabinets, my arm around her hips.
It’s a lot to digest. “If you see Mattie, point him out to me?”
With two arms, Willow hugs me around the waist while we stand side by side, her touch still feather-light. “You don’t…you wouldn’t want to confront him…right?”
“I’d just like to keep an eye on him. Know your enemies and all that.”
She relaxes. “If I see him, I’ll let you know.”
I skim her more now.
Willow wets her lips and looks nervously at the tiled floor but also, she’s smiling. “You’re thinking about the other part of the story, aren’t you?”
I smile back. She’s so cute. “The blow job part.”
She talks to me, not the floor. “I thought about omitting that, but I figured it might be better to just tell you, so we can…practice.”
Have I imagined Willow sucking me off? Yeah.
But I’d be okay with never getting head if that’s what she preferred. It’s not necessary inside our living, breathing soul-deep connection.
“Let’s practice.” I pull my shirt off my head.
“Um…do I…?” She’s about to drop to her knees, but I catch her waist and pull her against my body.
Cupping her cheek, I tenderly, slowly draw her lips to mine. We kiss, consuming this trembling affection that pumps blood. Heady and electric.
Her fingers curl around the waistband of my jeans. I taste her eagerness and desire, and I track kisses down her neck. Her body bows into me. Closer, her breath shallowing.
Christ.
My dick stirs, and I trail my hand between her shoulder blades. I feel wetness from beer, and I pull back to ask, “Did you drink a beer?”
Willow glances at her stained clothes. “No, when you texted, I rushed to the door so fast that I knocked into someone’s Guinness.”
I hold her face. My heart is beating double-time for this girl. “You want to take a shower with me?”
Her lips part, then eyes widen on the tub-shower. “I, uh…”
“You can say no.” I press my lips to her forehead. “No pressure, Willow.”
She thinks quietly, her hand now in mine. She doesn’t let go, and I feel her fingers tighten around mine. “Okay.”
