Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Will looks amused. “You’re welcome. But it’s really not a chore to make you feel good.”
“It was a chore to my ex,” I say with a shrug.
“Who? Macho Mitch?” Beckett drawls. “Of course he couldn’t handle someone like you. You’re a majestic thoroughbred, and he’s one of those sad, tired horses they make the tourists ride on beach resorts.”
I snort. “I think this might be the second time you’ve compared me to a horse.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Yeah, but, like, a really hot horse.”
Will laughs, switching to my other foot and digging his fingers into the arch.
“I used to text him the way I texted you guys tonight, saying I was on my way over and practically begging him for sex. He hated it. Said he couldn’t perform on command, and I was selfish for always making it about me.” Guilt pricks my stomach.
“I guess he’s right about the performing on command part,” Will concedes. “But you also don’t strike me as the kind of person who would force the issue if you showed up and he told you he really wasn’t in the mood.”
“Of course I wouldn’t force it. I’d just go home and get the job done myself.”
“And I don’t think it’s selfish to make your needs known,” he adds. “Sounds like you just weren’t with the right person. You said it yourself—it was a mismatch. Someone with a high libido wouldn’t even blink.”
“Like you guys,” I say.
“Hockey players are horny,” Beckett agrees.
I sag into his chest, enjoying how warm and solid he feels.
“God, I’m so tired of this,” I blurt out.
Will’s hand freezes on the sole of my foot.
“No, not that.” I smile at him. “That feels divine. Don’t stop.”
Beckett plants a kiss on my neck. “Tired of what then?”
“Everything. My sorority, the stupid rules, keeping up appearances… all of it.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
“Because I have to,” I mumble into his shoulder. “Because everyone’s watching. Judging. And I hate it. I hate that I never get to feel free or fully alive. It’s like I’m always stuck in this box, doing what’s expected of me, playing the part everyone else wants me to play. And I never get to just…be.”
Will gives me a pensive look. “What would you do if you could? Just be, I mean? If there was nobody watching or judging, what’s one thing you’d love to do right now?”
The question catches me off guard. In a sense, I already know what I’d do. Because I already do it. I indulge in secret hookups with guys I have no business hooking up with. I race fast cars on a deserted track in the middle of the night. I don’t mind taking risks—hell, I crave them—as long I can do it away from prying eyes.
But what else?
I purse my lips. Pondering. What is something I’m dying to do that’s always been out of reach? Something that’s a little too risky, even for me?
“I’d go to a rave and get high,” I confess.
Beckett laughs against my hair. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. But…I’m listening.”
“There’s nothing deep about it. I’ve always wanted to go to a rave and take…I don’t know, molly or something. Something that makes me feel good. I want to dance all night and lose myself in the music. Just once.”
“So why don’t you?” Will asks. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.
“Because it’s irresponsible. Potentially dangerous. And I’m too scared. I’ve never done a single drug before. I’m worried I might have a freak-out and there’ll be nobody to take care of me.”
Will squeezes my foot. “We’ll take care of you. If that’s something you seriously want to do, Beck and I will go with you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. We wouldn’t leave your side. You could do whatever you want and know that someone’s watching out for your safety.”
“We should try to go over the holidays,” Beckett suggests. “Maybe the weekend before the new semester starts. We don’t have any games that weekend.”
I’m touched by the offer. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” he says, and Will nods his agreement. “You deserve to feel alive. To not hide who you are. You’re incredible, Charlie, and you shouldn’t have to keep that hidden.”
Temptation tickles my belly, but it’s still tethered by the fear of what could happen. “Maybe,” I say, not committing but not rejecting the idea either.
Beckett runs his fingertips down my bare arm. “Well, the offer’s there if you want to take us up on it.”
“Thank you.” I plant a tiny kiss on his chin, then meet Will’s eyes and smile at him.
For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHARLOTTE
Smitten
THE WEEKEND ARRIVES FASTER THAN I ANTICIPATE, WHICH IS BOTH A blessing and a curse. The former because it means I don’t need to toil away in the lab until midnight; I have no experiments to monitor, only final write-ups to complete. The latter because that means we’re one day closer to the end of the semester, and I’m not fully prepared for my midyear capstone review. I can’t wait for the holiday break. I need to clear my brain of all the information I’ve crammed into it this semester. All the stress. All the conflicting thoughts about the two hockey players I’m banging on the nightly.