“So this bonfire is basically a mating ritual,” Whit observes, and I squeeze his hand.
“It working?” I arch an eyebrow at him, and he huffs in annoyance. “This is making you want to mate with me, huh? Admit it.”
Whit shifts on his feet and then says in all seriousness, “I’m afraid it is, Caleb.”
My eyebrows rise this time, and I decide it’s time to go home. I think Whit has a point. Better to stay in sometimes.
“Should head home then.”
Whit nods with a small smile, and I quickly grab the towel we brought and speed walk to the car.
* * *
“Why did you decide on pre-law?” I ask Whit. I’m sprawled across his naked body, my entire body satiated frommultipleorgasms. He really outdid himself this time.
He shrugs underneath me. “I’m good at it.”
“That’s all?” I ask, tracing my finger around his nipple. It puckers underneath my touch, and I pinch it slightly.
“If you must know, my parents decided on it.”
“Your parents are shitheads. Shouldn’t you be the one to decide your future?”
“Yes, but there are…extenuating circumstances that dictate what I can and can’t do.”
“Like what?”
The fingers of my good hand are tracing over the scars littering his arms, my thumb tracing the long jagged one that stems from wrist to elbow again. I’m a little obsessed with it, wondering what the story is with this one. He’s yet to divulge any of it, though, which is fine. He can open up and talk to me about it later. There’s no rush.
I lean over and press my lips to it, and he shudders beneath me, threading his fingers through my hair.
“Many things hinge on whether or not I get my trust fund at 23.”
“Like what?”
I wait for his answer, but he doesn’t respond. A long silence stretches out between us, and I push myself up on my elbows to look down at him. And damn, he looks delicious. Hair rumpled and his eyes heavy-lidded.
I gave him such good head earlier. Still patting myself on the back for how his eyes literally rolled back in his head when I did that thing with my tongue.
“This another one of your secrets?” I tease.
He meets my gaze and sighs, “Pre-law or pre-med were the two majors I could pick from.”
“Yeah, figured, but what else determines your trust fund is released to you? You made it seem like more than one thing was holding you back.”
He clears his throat and runs his hands up and down my back, “Nothing else significant. Just some minor stipulations.”
I don’t believe him, but he seems to be getting agitated with this topic of conversation, so I let it go and rest my head back on his chest and listen to him breathe.
Whit’s silent for a moment and then asks, “Is working with your uncle and cousins really what you want?”
“Yeah, I’m a simple guy. It's job security, and I can make a steady income.”
“You don’t ever have any higher aspirations?”
“What? Being engaged to a dude who works with scrap isn’t lofty enough for you?”
Whit squeezes my neck, “That’s not what I meant.”