Cal pulled me into him, almost completely onto his lap. I gripped his quads for balance, which turned into me squeezing his muscles before moving higher on his leg. We attacked each other, biting and kissing as we both tried to gain control.
This. This was us.
“God, you get me so hard,” Cal mumbled, mint fanning my face, then scraped my bottom lip with his teeth. “You don’t even have to do anything. Shit you not, I’ve jerked off to thoughts of you twenty times since Saturday.”
“Thinking what? Tell me what’s in your dirty little mind, Princess.”
“Fuck you, Princess. You’re not bossing me around here.”
He palmed the back of my head with a firm hand, and we delved into each other’s mouths again. He tasted sweet, like candy. The contrast of his cool lips and warm tongue tightened my abs.
“Fuck. Your truck’s not big enough for this. I want to get off with you so badly.” I bit his chin, hoping it would get him as fired up as I was. This aggressive need between us was not abating.
“Not big enough?” he asked between kissing my jaw and nipping it. “More comfortable in the bathroom, the locker room?”
“Fuck you,” I breathed.
“Trent would be so proud we’re getting along.”
“God, don’t talk about that shithead right now.”
He chuckled but backed away, the complete opposite of what I wanted in this moment. “I don’t want to keep my distance from you at school. We can be friendly or something, right?”
I squinted my eyes. “Not sure I’ve got a halfway setting when it comes to you. I’ve got to get my hands on you, and that’s either to stroke you or punch you.”
He grinned but dipped his chin as his blush deepened. “Y-you wanna date me?”
I pursed my lips and hummed. “Thought that was a given.”
“Yeah, but I guess I want to hear it.” He straightened. “Can you blame me? You’ve been so hot and cold, I’m a fuckin’ tornado over here.”
I snickered. “Maybe I like you being twisted up over me.”
“Sadist.”
“Fine. I want to date you, Princess …”
“But …”
“I’m not into PDA.” His blank stare was a push to explain. “I’m not closeted. I mean, I’m not shouting about it. It’s no one’s business, but I’m not feeding the gossip either. I can’t—Iwon’tput myself out there and be entertainment for others.”
He cocked his head as questions swirled in his eyes, but he saw too much. Cal stiffened, took a deep breath, and let it out. “Why? Something happened?”
I stared at our hands as I opened up, trusted him as much as he’d trusted me with his shit. “Two years ago, I got jumped.”
He tightened his hand around mine. “What?”
“The West Coast is pretty open-minded, but that doesn’t mean everyone is. There was this guy at school, football player, and I misjudged him epically. Instead of turning me down when I asked him out, telling me he wasn’t into guys, he accepted, then had his buddies meet us so they could beat the shit out of me.”
“Jesus.” Cal dropped my hand but only to cup my jaw in both of his. “Was it bad?” He scanned my face as if he hadn’t seen me almost every day for months now to know I was fine.
I took one of his hands and pressed his fingertips along the scar on the back of my head.
“Jack,” he whispered.
“It could’ve been worse. Physically, anyway. Sometimes I get these anxiety attacks.”
I let go of his hand, but he kept it there, sifting his fingers through my hair. “And the guys that did it? They got arrested?”
