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“Don’t,” I snap. “You don’t get to call me that right now, not while you’re in the middle of rejecting me.”
“Dammit. I’m not rejecting you. I want you—obviously.” He gestures toward his still-hard dick, which I’ve been trying very hard not to ogle. My memories from the couch last summer don’t really do it justice, probably because I was so nervous. Or maybe it’s grown since then? Guys go through puberty later than girls, right? And that’s why they’re so immature? I feel like this is not the right moment to ask Elliot if his penis is full size now, though.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.” I start to sit up, but Elliot snags my arm and keeps me from moving far. We’re closer now. My thigh is brushing against his, and he’s not the only one who’s painfully aroused. At least mine isn’t as obvious.
“I was hurting you.”
“Yeah, because I’m avirgin, Elliot. You already knew that.”
He looks away and bites his bottom lip. “It just made me… This is a moment that should mean something to you.”
Fuck it.I’m physically naked. Might as well bare it all emotionally as well. He can’t be worried it will mean somethingandworried it won’t. “You’re an idiot. You’re theonlyperson itwouldmean anything with.”
That truth affects him, even though he tries to hide it. His jaw tightens as he studies me. “Nothing’s changed. Everything I told you that first night we met…it’s still true. I’msofucking close. I’ve got the draft coming up in a year. Everything I’ve—”
I raise my hand and trace his lips, silencing him. “I know,” I say simply. “I know you, Elliot.” I know things he won’t even admit, like that his dedication to hockey isn’t the only thing holding him back from us. He’s been burned by love before, and he knows it doesn’t come with any guarantees.
His face is still torn with indecision, but I made this decision a long time ago. I knew, from the moment I heard his voice in that coffee shop, that he was special, that he would have an impact on the world—on my world.
No warning—from him or anyone else—ever had the power to change that.
He’s a good person, more loyal and thoughtful and caring than anyone else I know, but he’s also a highly competitive athlete and a teenage boy filled with raging hormones. I prey on that, pulling my hand out of his grip and sliding it down his stomach. My fingers trace the ridges like a truck traversing a bumpy road, riding up and down the muscles I was admiring all afternoon.
“If I don’t do it with you, I’ll do it with someone else,” I threaten, fisting his cock. He hisses as I move my hand up and down the smooth skin, either from annoyance or arousal. Or both.
“Auden.” He packs a lot into the five letters of my name. Lust. Irritation. Amusement. Confusion.
God, why can’t he act like any normal hormonal teenage guy and just take the sex I’m offering up on a silver platter? But that would break my heart in its own way; him acting like this means nothing, even if we’ll both pretend that’s the case.
“Maybe Josh? He gets with lots of girls, right? Joe said I’m hot. Or what’s the goalie’s name? Marcus? He’s cute, with all that shaggy hair. What do you guys call it? A flow?”
Elliot huffs. “Dammit, Auden.”
I’m still rubbing his cock, and I watch the tendons of his neck and shoulders tense as he tries to fight off the pleasure and think clearly. My motions are basically begging him, but it makes me feel powerful, not desperate. He is reacting to my touch. The slabs of muscle on his chest keep clenching, the distance between his abs constricting. The lines of his thighs tense as he resists the urge to thrust into my hand.
Some people are motivated. Others are disciplined.
Elliot Reid is themostdisciplined person I’ve ever met. Motivation can come and go, can apply to certain tasks and not others. Discipline governs every action with firm principles and unyielding determination.
Once Elliot decides to do—or not do—something, that’s the end of it. He decided years ago that we would be “just friends,” and we may have danced on the line—a certain couch encounter and a bout of telling everyone we were dating come to mind—but we’ve never fully crossed it. Not the way this would.
He reaches down and grabs my wrist, stalling my hand’s movements. Then he rolls on his side so he’s leaning over me again. I don’t move, barely daring to breathe. The air rushes out in a gust when he drops my wrist to trace a line down my stomach. Goose bumps blossom everywhere he touches me, and I know it doesn’t escape his attention. One reaction I can’t hide.
“You’re sure?”
Excitement and surprise flood me. I was seventy-five percent certain I’d be leaving this boathouse with my hymen still intact. I nod, twice. Then, in case that wasn’t confirmation enough, I add a “Yes. I’m sure.”
He nods and pulls in a breath I’m surprised to hear sounds a little unsteady. I’ve never seen Elliot act anything but assured. His hand moves upward, cupping my left breast and then playing with the nipple. My breathing turns erratic. I’m struggling to pull in enough oxygen, and I couldn’t care less. My thighs fall open in a silent invitation. Elliot takes it, rolling over me. He rests most of his weight on his forearms, but we’re pressed skin to skin from the ribs down. I can feel the firmness of the muscles I was just admiring pressed against my lower stomach and legs. The heat of his body seeps into mine. The head of his cock rubs against my wetness, sending sparks of pleasure racing along my nerve endings.
“Auden?”
“Yeah?” I tense slightly. I swear, if he says he can’t do this after all, I’m done. Despite what the past few minutes have indicated, I havesomepride.
“There haven’t been any other girls. That’s why you don’t need to worry about me…giving you anything.”
“What?” That’s not what I was expecting to hear,at all.
“I’ve never had sex. Notsexsex, at least. I’ve done, uh, other stuff.” A red flush appears on his neck. “Sorry. Really shitty time to mention that.”
