A few minutes later, I’m tucked in bed with my go-to book—the one that’s always guaranteed to pull me out of a reading slump or cure a book hangover.
The hero inAfter Foreverby SE Grimis tall and lean. And he has long blond hair. But it’s set in regency England, so that’s not atypical. Edward Fleetwood is no gentleman. He’s a charming rake who turns Susanna Winthrop’s world upside down. He makes her believe in happy endings, but then he breaks her heart.
Of course, that’s partly due to his vile brother and the dungeon poor Ward has been chained in for the last seven years, but even that plotline can’t hold my attention tonight.
I keep seeing Van’s face and hearing his voice when I’m reading Ward’s lines.
So I shut my e-reader, set it on my nightstand, and close my eyes.
But sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I’m assaulted with memories of Van—the night we met, our first date, the time he brought me flowers and I couldn’t stop sneezing.
And the last night we spent together.
We’d been dating a few weeks by then, and I’d gone to Van’s game that night. It was loud and confusing, and I loved every minute of it. I’d been hoping we could go back to my dorm afterwards, but the team wanted to celebrate their win, so everyone decided to go to the party at the hockey house to unwind.
College parties have never really been my thing. I was already peopled out by that point, but I had so little free time to spend with Van that it seemed silly to waste it.
I remember dancing with him. I remember wanting more. I remember him kissing me and leading me down a hallway to a bedroom. He knocked, and when no one answered, we went inside.
“Jesus, Jos, I can’t get enough of you. Did you wear this for me? Did you know it would drive me out of my mind, seeing you in this tight little t-shirt?” he asks, sliding his hands up my ribcage. “Did you—holy hell, are you even wearing a bra?”
“I hate them,” I tell him, pulling my top off.
He lifts me up and pins me against the wall, holding me tight while he kisses my breasts. He lavishes attention on them, and it makes me feel beautiful. When I’m with Van, I feel confident. Pretty and desirable. When we’re together, my mind never strays to my endless to-do list or my course load. I’m not worried about laundry or potty training or screen time. I’m not thinking about my assignments or upcoming tests. I’m not anxious about adjusting to dorm life or managing the mood swings of my awful roommate.
I’m no one’s sister.
I’m not a caretaker.
I’m not the smart girl who needs to keep her scholarship.
I’m just Josie.
And it’s wonderful.
“I hate bras, too,” Van says, smiling at me. “Nothing this perfect should ever be covered up,” he says, cupping my breast in his hand and bending to kiss it again. He’s not tentative with his kisses; he’s never unsure. There’s an ease about Beckett Vandaele that I envy. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, and he knows it.
“So you’d be okay with me walking around naked?” I tease. “Or at least topless?”
“Fuck, yes,” he answers, pulling us away from the wall. He’s got my ass cradled in his arms and my legs wrapped around his waist. “We’d never leave my dorm. We could take classes online and spend all our free time just like this. Sound like a plan?”
“It has potential,” I tell him. He looks around the room until his gaze settles on the bed. We walk over to it and just when I think he’s going to lay me down, he loosens his grip and lets my body slide down his until I’m standing beside him. Reaching back, he grabs the collar of his BU hockey hoodie and tugs it off in one fluid motion. His t-shirt follows suit. He tosses the tee on the floor, but spreads his jersey out on the bed.
Suddenly, I’m in his arms again and he’s lowering me onto the little nest he’s made. “This ok, Jos?”
I nod, because if I open my mouth, there’s no doubt I’ll blurt out a proclamation of love.
“We should probably relocate, right?” he asks, his hands skimming over my body.
“Should we? I mean you’re half-naked,” I point out.
He leans back, and there’s that dimple again. “So are you.”
“Well, that’s a problem easily solved,” I say, lifting my hips and reaching for the button on my jeans.
“Josie, wait,” he says, his eyes wide as his hand reaches for mine. “Our first time together isn’t gonna be on my teammate’s bed. We can go back to my dorm, or?—”
“It’s too cold out,” I tell him. I’m never this bold, never this daring. But I want to be with Van and it’s making me impatient. “Besides, I’m not on the bed. I’m on your jersey. Or is that weird?—”
