“Taste.”
My lips part on instinct, and he slides his fingers inside. Our eyes lock as I suck, swirling my tongue over every drop of myself coating his skin. His jaw ticks, his pupils are blown wide, and when I moan around his fingers, he groans low in his chest.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You're gonna ruin me.”
Before I can recover, he flips me onto my stomach in one fluid motion. His hands grip my hips and drag me up until I’m on my knees with my face pressed into the pillow. I’m wide-open, trembling and already undone by him.
That's when I feel the tip of his cock nudging against me. Teasing. Tormenting.
It’s not enough.
“Please…” I whimper.
He leans over me, his chest hot against my back and his mouth against my ear. “Say it, Honey. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me,” I choke out, my voice cracking with desperation. “Now.”
That’s all it takes. With one hard thrust, he fills me completely, and I forget how to speak. How to think. All I know is him—the way he feels when he’s inside me, the way he moves. His rhythm is relentless, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body that I can feel all the way to my fingertips.
My second orgasm hits without warning, crashing over me in waves that leave me gasping his name into the pillow. He follows moments later, his groan of pleasure filling the room.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We can’t. It’s too intense.
Zach presses a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades before gently pulling out of me, rolling off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom.
When he returns, he presses a warm washcloth to my center before massaging me clean. With my eyes closed, I sigh into the pillows, content with the world when I’m here.
I don’t care about anything else. It’s just me and him.
He takes the towel away and I hear him toss it into the laundry basket before sliding back into bed and pulling me close.
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is the crumpled note on the floor where Zach tossed it. Just a little white ball sitting there against the dark wood
My stomach twists, but I force myself to take a breath.
I need to trust him.
That's what I asked him to do with Jenni, isn't it? Trust my judgment. Trust that I know what I'm doing. And now he's asking the same of me. If I don't give him that—if I pick apart every note, every text, every moment he's not right beside me—then what kind of relationship do we even have?
Zach wouldn't cheat on me. I know that. I know him.
The note is nothing, and I need to let it be just that.
“Your dad's flying out soon, right?” Zach asks quietly, his fingers dragging lazy shapes across my spine.
I blink, pulling my eyes away from the crumpled paper. “Yeah. Next week,” I say, settling deeper into his warmth. “He wants me to head to the Indianapolis office twice a month until the summer internship starts.” My stomach sinks at the prospect. “The good news is, St. Michael's has agreed it counts toward my credits, which means they're flexible with me moving around a couple of my non-compulsory classes.”
“That's great, Honeycomb. What are the non-compulsory classes?”
He asks it so calmly and subtly, it makes me smile even though I know the implication behind those words.
“My major is still undeclared,” I say, feeling small again—that same feeling from earlier creeping back in. “My father wants meto commit to law. I have to decide by the end of the year, but I still don't know what I want to do,” I admit quietly.
He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “That's okay,” he says gently. “You don't have to have it all figured out.”
“But you do. You've known what you wanted since you were, what, twelve? You're going to the NFL. You have a plan. A path. And I'm just...” I trail off.
“What if I never figure it out?” I whisper. It's quiet, fragile, and pathetic, but Zach's the only person I'd ever feel comfortable saying it in front of.