The next day and a half are blissfully…intense.
After our study session at the cove, Gage drove us home. We ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant down the street from the apartment and we studied some more. This time, there was no kissing agreement, as much as I would have loved one, because I meant what I said. He's going to pass the test and play in the championship. The more that becomes a reality, the more I can see he yearns to be out on the field. He was born for it.
Several times throughout that night together, we woke up straining against each other, his fingers in my panties, his hips restless against my thigh. In his half-asleep delirium, he proposed to me no less than a dozen times, his tongue moving feverishly in my mouth, on my breasts. It's a miracle I made it through the night with my virginity intact, but I did. And the next night, too, though my boyfriend has started prowling around me like a wolf stalking a lamb.
He backs me into corners and fists my clothing. He sweats and curses.
He gets down on his knees and licks at my backside through my clothes.
He holds me down and asks me questions about my life before him. What I like to eat and drink. My favorite movies and music and holidays. He interrogates me about my dreams, my hopes, my secrets. Where and how my body reacts when he kisses me certain ways.
He peels off his shirt at the oddest times to tempt me.
I stand firm, though, repeatedly pointing at the textbook and our new, joint notes.
Gage also makes good on his vow to douse me in his cologne and make me walk around campus wearing his jacket. Truth be told, I hated it at first. Everyone stared and whispered as I passed, speculating about me, our relationship. But after a while, I started to feel untouchable. As if I was walking around in a bubble of his protection. I loved having the smell of him available to me all day, when he couldn't be right next to me.
I'm in love.
I'm deeply, wildly in love with this man.
He's still in pain over the loss of his father and he lets me soothe him when I see he's down. He lets me take his head into my chest and stroke his hair, his huge, athlete's body curling around mine, pulling me tight and choking the air out of me, my name a whisper on his lips. And in turn, he asks me a million questions about my time in the monastery, growing visibly troubled when I recount the lonely years I spent within those walls. I can see that he would go back in time and rescue me, if possible, and somehow that helps. Makes me feel so much less alone now that it makes up for lost time. Or it will, as our years pass together.
On the morning of the test, I wake up alone in bed. I walk out of the bedroom to find Gage going over the study outline, his mouth moving as he reads. When he glances up and sees me in the doorway wearing one of his old game jerseys, his eyes darken to black and he wets his lips. "You and me go straight to bed after the test, Stella. Don't even think about disappearing somewhere." He quickly swipes perspiration from his brow. "I'm going to have my reward. I'm going to have it all day and night."
Heat trickles down to my womanhood, muscles seizing. "I know."
His gaze drops to the juncture of my thighs. "You want it, too. Climbing all over me in your sleep. I came this close, honey, to railing you up and down the bed last night."
He's right. In my sleep, I slung a leg across his hips and rode him through his briefs, my sex aching, swollen, in need of the relief we've been denying ourselves since the cove. "But you wanted to do the right thing, so you stopped."
"Yeah. It turns out…I fucking live to make you proud of me. So…" He blows out a shaky breath, then puts his attention back on the textbook. "So I'm not just going to pass, I'm going to get an A. And then I'm going to win the championship, just so I can lay it all at your feet."
"It's not just for me. He'd be proud, too. And you can be proud of yourself."
He drops the pencil in his hand and stands, coming toward me, intense as ever. "I know. And I am. But I never would have considered any of that if you didn't come into my life, so I'm doing it all for you, Stella." He cradles my face in his hands, the gentle touch at odds with his determination. "Your man is going to give you the world."
Our mouths gravitate toward each other, and we both grow winded on the spot, our bodies pressing, grinding briefly, before we both pull away. Aching.
"Goddammit," he growls through his teeth, slamming a fist into the wall. "I…angel, it's going to be hard for me to be gentle today. I know I said I would, but fuck. Fuck. These last two days have me at the end of my rope."
"However, it is between us, it'll be right," I say, brushing our fingers together. "You'll make it right."
Gage nods, swallowing, seemingly fascinated by the way our fingers touch. "Get ready to go, huh? I want to be there early. I want you to wait outside the test room, where I can see you." He reaches down and grips his manhood through his jeans. "And honey, I want you thinking about this fat dick, so you're nice and wet when they're done grading the test. No more foreplay. We've been doing that for days." Hot eyes tick up to mine. "Outside the classroom, wet and waiting. Understood?"
"Yes, Gage," I whisper, because whether it's right or wrong, I love the way he commands me. It's not done in the name of keeping me under his thumb. No. He commands me in ways that keep me close, keep me safe, because I think if he didn't have those two assurances, he might lose his mind. And I'm getting to his level, too. I've become his identical counterpart, yearning for him when he's at practice or even just in the shower. We reunite like long-lost lovers afterward, hands stroking and getting reacquainted, syncing our breaths once again. I miss him when he's standing right in front of me.
He advances on me slowly now, turning me toward the bedroom, lifting up the borrowed jersey and slapping my bottom. "Wear something I can take off easily."