He threads his fingers through mine. "You want to know why I walked away? Hell, why I ran out of there like I was being chased?"
I nod, and he keeps talking.
"I remember that day, too—every part of it. Your hair was up in a clip. You had on these high-waisted jeans that showed off your hips and ass. Your top was sleeveless with black and white stripes. I can almost fucking guarantee it was a no-bra day, and there was this glorious sliver of skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your tank top."
I’m a little stunned. "Your memory is unreal. Even I don’t remember what kind of jeans I had on. But it was hot, so I shoved my cardigan in my bag to get a little sun on my shoulders."
"I noticed you the minute you walked in. That was nothing new. I’d seen you around a couple other times that semester, but there were always crowds or I was headed somewhere. Not that day, though. I literally had hours to kill. I was gonna sub in when Ollie left for his final, but then you got there and?—"
"And you couldn’t leave fast enough?—"
He reaches for me, but I stay put, shaking my head. "It’s silly, I know. I’ve done the same to you, but?—"
“Your shirt was tight. I could see the outline of your tits from fifteen fucking feet away because I had memorized every curve on your perfect body, Jos. That little strip of skin? I knew exactly how soft it felt. I could picture my hands on your waist. Iknew the sounds you’d make if I walked over to where you were, picked you up, and sat you on my lap. And I was tempted to. Figured you’d slap me and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But god, I wanted to. Fuck me, Josie, I could still remember the way you tasted. It had been more than a year, and we weren’t together long, but that didn’t matter. I remembered everything.”
I nod, understanding every word. “I wish one of us would have been brave enough to say hi or something.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to say hi, Jos. I didn’t want to know about your classes or who you were dating. What I wanted was to take you into my arms. To kiss you like you belonged to me. If I’d have put you in my lap, you want to know what would have happened? You’d have felt my dick between these perfect cheeks. I’d have pretended to watch the game, but I’d have been teasing you the whole time. I’d have run my thumbs over your nipples," he tells me, doing just that. "I’d have told you how good you looked. And I’d have walked out of there fast, just like I did. But I’d have taken you with me back to the hockey house. That’s where I went.
“You thought I looked right through you, but the truth is I couldn’t take my eyes off you, Jos. There were easily a hundred other people nearby. And I was hard as a fucking rock at the sight of you. That’s why I walked away. So I could go back to my room like a fucking creep. Close my eyes and picture you. Stroke my dick and remember the sound of your voice, the look on your face when you came apart for me.”
His gaze trails to the floor. “It’s fucking pathetic. I know. Feel free to smack me. I deserve it. I?—”
His revelation makes me bold. Unbuttoning my sweater, I let it slide off my shoulders. “It’s a bra day,” I say, crawling toward Van on the bed. "But this is a new one. And it’s not awful. It’s not as good as naked, but?—”
Van’s hands find my lace-covered breasts. "Nothing’s as good as naked, Jos. But this is a damn fine second place."
It’s barely a scrap of anything, but it’s softer than it looks, and it has no wires or hooks. It’s just a very short, very fitted, very lacy tank top. And I can live with that.
My eyes find his. "You really walked away because…you wanted me?"
"I walked away so I didn’t come in my pants like a fucking weirdo, Jos. I walked away because I couldn’t think straight. Because I wanted you so damn bad. And I knew I wasn’t good?—"
I cover his mouth with mine. "Don’t say it. Please don’t even think it."
"You’re not freaked out, Jos? It doesn’t bother you even a little that I jacked off to thoughts of you? I was too much of a coward to approach you, but I had no problem grabbing my dick and rubbing one out after seeing you in a goddamn crop top. That makes me an asshole, Josie."
I lie on my back and make quick work of sliding my leggings and panties down before tossing them on the floor. Van’s still wearing his sweats, but I don’t let that stop me from straddling him.
"Jos—"
I press a finger to his lips. Van’s told me his story, so it’s only fair that I tell him mine. "Second semester freshman year, I went on a date with Jake Thomassy. He was a catcher on the baseball team."
Van’s jaw is rigid as he nods. "I know."
"He took me to the book shop downtown and then to the diner."
My boyfriend’s scowling. "Is this my punishment for being a creep? You’re bare-ass naked, Jos and you’re gonna sit on my dick and tell me about the perfect date another guy took you on?"
Instead of answering his question, I grind my very wet center over his aforementioned (and very hard) dick.
He closes his eyes and he mutters a curse, but I keep talking.
"The book shop was great. It’s one of my favorite places."
Van’s hands grip my waist, pressing us together once more. "I’m so fucking glad you had a nice time, Jos. But where’s Jake Thomassy now? He’s not here. He’s not the one with his hands on you." He thrusts up into me and I moan, knowing full well that there’s now a very wet spot on the front of his sweats. “Jesus.He’s not the one you’re fucking dripping on.”
I shake my head. "He’s not. I saw you there that night. The hockey team was leaving the diner just as we walked in."
