“I love you too,” she murmurs, her fingers pulling on the hair at my nape, forcing me to open my eyes. She’s watching me with those beautiful green eyes, her swollen mouth tilting up, waiting for my kiss.
I deliver it, lingering there, tasting her. Drinking from her. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
She laughs, the sound vaguely evil. As if she gets off on making me insane. “You like it.”
Ava’s right.
I do.
Twenty-Four
Ava
I wake up confused at first, momentarily forgetting where I’m at. I’m all alone in the bed, completely naked. Throwing my arms above my head, I stretch, a soft groan leaving me when I feel the ache in my muscles. As if I’ve been pleasantly abused.
That’s when it hits me.
Last night with Eli at the party. Making up with him. His mom’s car wreck. Going to the hospital. Coming home with him.
Getting thoroughly fucked by him in the middle of the night.
A smile crosses my lips and I close my eyes, pressing my face into the pillow.
It smells like him and I breathe deep, feeling like an addict with a serious issue.
I hear a voice. Deep and male. He’s talking. Eli. But I only hear one side of the conversation, so I assume he’s on the phone.
“…I don’t know if I can come get you. Don’t you have some friends you could call? I have a game—” He goes silent.
Rolling over, I crack my eyes open and push up into a sitting position, shoving my hair out of my face. I don’t know where he’s at, but his bedroom door is partially open, so I can only assume he’s out in the hall.
“Fine,” he says, sounding desolate. “Yeah no, it’s cool. I’ll come pick you up. Give me some time. I need to call my coaches first—”
He goes silent again and my heart pangs for him. He doesn’t want to miss his game, and he shouldn’t have to. Despite how terrible her accident was, his mother brought this all on herself.
It isn’t fair, what she’s asking him to do.
“Okay, see you in a bit. Bye.” A ragged breath leaves him and I can only a
ssume how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking.
And then he’s there, standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.
Hmm. Women go nuts over men in gray sweatpants on the internet and I can suddenly see why. There are entire hashtags devoted to the cause. I think there might even be #graypantsTikTok and I always blew it off because, come on.
It seems kind of silly, right?
My mouth goes dry the longer I stare at him. The sweatpants hang extremely low on his hips and I swear I see a hint of pubic hair, which is…
Yes, it’s hot. So hot.
Plus, it’s obvious he’s not wearing boxers under those sweatpants, so his junk is free.
My cheeks heat at the mere thought.
“You’re awake.” He hesitates and I can feel his gaze roving over me.
I drop my head, hoping he doesn’t notice my blushing.