“Or you’re just impa—fuck.”
I swear too. I didn’t forget how fucking her had felt, but I doubted my recollection. She couldn’t have been that tight and responsive and—she is.
It’s heaven and hell, being buried inside of her. It feels so good, and it won’t last, and I’m not sure I’ll last, yet I’m determined for this to not be a repeat of our first time.
I think about breaking my arm as a kid. Recite my freshman year stats.
And then she’s spasming, the clench of her pussy making it impossiblefor me not to fill the condom. Still embarrassingly fast, but at least she came first this time.
I catch my breath, then pull out, ripping open a new package of napkins to clean up the mess.
“So, are you coming?” Wren asks, carefully fixing her dress.
“I just did.” I toss the condom and napkins into the trash can. Nothing but net. My future might be fucked, but I’ve still got a good arm.
She rolls her eyes. “To the party.”
I zip up my pants. “I can’t. I already made plans with the guys.”
Truthfully, they’d probably be thrilled to go to a Kensington party. Wade’s house has lukewarm beer and not much else. Definitely no caviar or champagne or fireworks. But they don’t have to know about the invitation.
Wren nods. “Okay.”
She doesn’t sound disappointed. It makes me feel better—and annoyed—about lying. Sheshouldn’tcare if I go or not. No doubt there will be plenty of guys there, thrilled to keep Wren company.
“Are you free to hang out tomorrow? I’ll probably sleep in since it’s going to be a late night, but we could meet later?”
Fuck. I want to tell her yes, and that’s … what is up with that? I don’t do—I need out, to end whatever this is.
So, I force myself to hold her gaze as I reply, “Why?”
I watch that rude response detonate between us. Watch the word hit her. Watch Wren’s composure falter, then harden. She’s accustomed to people accommodating her. And I’m not trying to be the outlier. I’m just calling quits before she can. Being left behind sucks less when you retreat first. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself of.
Seconds of silence pass, but they stretch like hours. Like lengthyletters, filled with inside jokes and … I never should have written her back.
Wren lifts her chin, her eyes never wavering from mine. “Nice of you to say somethingbeforeyou got laid.”
She sounds annoyed more than anything else. I was right—this meant nothing to her. I’ve just bruised her pride.
“Don’t act like you didn’t want it,” I drawl, irritated she’s acting like I lured her here.
She showed up. She told me she was here for sex.
Wren stiffens. “I’m not—I never said that. I just forgot what anassholeyou are.”
So, she’s given up on her theory I’m secretly a decent guy. Good.
“I told you I was.”
“Yeah.” She scoffs. “You sure did. Thanks for the reminder.”
We stare at each other. I don’t know what else to say. I figured, after the pity invitation, she’d waltz out of here to get to her non-lame party.
“What do you want from me, Wren?” I ask because I truly don’t know.
She doesn’t know everything about me—I’ve never mentioned my family in any letters, for instance—but she knows enough to realize I’m a dead end. No trust fund, no college plans, no exciting future.
“Nothing.” Wren shakes her head once. “I mean, we already … so there’s … nothing.” Finally, she heads for the door. “Bye, Captain.”
