He closes his eyes in remembered pain. “You feel like a burden because the last time we were together, I made the mistake of using your situation to hurt you. My family loves you, and you are no burden to us. You never have been, and I had no right to say that you leech off of us. You didn’t deserve that, and I was being cruel out of anger. I don’t think that. I like having you here. I like being with you.” His voice is serious, but his smile is gentle. And I smile, too.

He pauses, wanting to speak but considering his words. “Do you like Benjamin?”

“No! No! No!” I’m a damn broken record, but I’m desperate for him to understand.

He smirks at my response. “Did it feel good when he was sucking on your nipples?”

I gasp at the use of his blatant language. “No.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Still smirking, and now with a raised eyebrow.

I consider my words. “It wasn’t what I wanted.”

“You’re being coy. You either enjoyed it or didn’t. Which is it?” Add a cocked head.

“It just wasn’t what I expected. I mean… It was different than I thought it would be.”

“It was different than it has been with other guys?” Curiosity lights up his eyes.

I look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“…than the other guys you’ve been with?”

Now I’m blushing. “There really aren’t other guys.”

He considers this. “So then, would it stand to reason that you’re still a virgin?”

I quietly answer, the heat of my cheeks scorching my skin. “Yes.” I look down, not wanting him to see my face.

But he gently pulls my chin back up to look at him. “I like that you’re a virgin. I think you should stay that way for a while.” He looks relieved. I feel like an idiot. He seems content I’m so clueless, and I wish for the gazillionth time I wasn’t such a loser. What else is new? He finally reaches over and turns the lamp off, and as I start to drift off, he kisses me gently on my forehead. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I hate that I was so cruel.” I never thought I would sleep in his bed again, and I am thrilled.

* * *

As I lie there in the dark, I can’t help but wonder how I’ve gotten myself to this place again. What was I thinking? I have to stop this, yet as the thought enters my mind, I acknowledge instantly that I can’t. What was I thinking touching her the way I had this morning? I was furious at her for the night before and had every intention of laying into her first thing this morning, but I couldn’t help but touch her. As though touching her somehow reclaimed her body from the hot Benjamin Aaronson, whom I now irrationally hate. I might as well have humped her leg like some dominant male dog. Her bottom felt so round and perfect. I didn’t want to stop. I must have had my hands on her for nearly a half an hour this morning. And then I kissed her neck to make it worse. Every time I get angry with her, I end up wanting her and touching her. Why does she do this to me? And what was I thinking taking my clothes off in front of her? I was so aroused by watching her change and wanted her to see me, see what she was doing to me. I had no business letting her know that she had affected me that way.

I want to fuck her so bad it hurts sometimes. When I don’t see her, I miss her, and when I do see her, I’m tormented by her. She is all I think about anymore. I could be sitting at the drive thru, waiting for my lunch, and I start to imagine what it would be like to spread her legs open and feast on her. Finding out she’s an inexperienced virgin should have been a turn off. But it’s not. I want her more now than ever before. I love that she’s never been tasted, and I love that she’s never tasted a man. I want to show her everything and push her to give me everything I want from her. I want her looking into my eyes as I thrust into her for the first time. She can make this decision on her own, so why shouldn’t it be me? I want her to whisper my name as she’s coming for the first time. I want to roll her over and taste her in places I’ve never wanted to taste before, claiming every last inch of her flesh. I don’t ever want another man to touch her skin again. I want her to belong to me and no one else. And I’m driving myself insane with her. I have got to get away from her, but I can’t bear the idea of being apart from her. I have never wanted so uncontrollably before, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. When I finally drift off to sleep, it is to her soft breathing and my most erotic fantasies of her.

Chapter 9

The second half of the academic year is now in full force. I’ve finally bought my car, an old, slightly rusted out Jeep Wagoneer. It has wood paneling and an old, worn, leather interior. I love it, but rather doubt anyone else does. It is just nice to be off that damn bike finally. Even this liberating time is dampened as I start to realize the end is near. Logan will be leaving for Denver and his new place at Brighton and Brinks within just a few weeks of graduating, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m terrified of losing him. It is spring, and spring break is a mere two weeks away, and the passing time is starting to weigh on my mind.

Over the past couple of months, I have continued my regular cohabitation with Logan, and it continues to confuse and excite me. There are many times when it seems as though he is holding me at arm’s length, and at other times, he seems so open to me—desperate for closeness. He is an enigma to me, and he belies nothing of what he is thinking. Lying to Sara has also become exhausting, and I know our deceit must be difficult for him, too. Logan will be going away for spring break with his friends to Colorado again for their annual ski trip, and I’m dreading that time. He has made me promise I’ll continue to use the apartment or stay with Sara when he is away, but it isn’t my father that has me so bothered. I simply don’t want to go without him for so long.

* * *

I would give anything to just cancel this stupid trip. I don’t even want to go, but, of course, that is ridiculous. What guy doesn’t want to go away with his oldest friends on his final spring break? Oh yeah, the kind who is infatuated with his little sister’s best friend. I don’t even see Amy any more, but have never officially broken up with her. After New Year’s Eve, I wasn’t able to even pretend civility with her. I started blowing her off every time she called, and eventually, she simply stopped calling. I’m glad to be rid of her but strangely never cared enough about the end of our relationship to even mention it to people.

I’ve managed to keep Rowan out of my bed, but hardly out of my mind or my fantasies for that matter. When I masturbate, it is her I see, her voice I hear, and her soul I possess. It is never satisfying, and I’ve become the most sexually frustrated man in history. And it is on one such frustrating evening I find myself in the most horrific of all compromising situations.

It is always on Thursday nights that Rowan has her private dance lessons, and depending on the state her father is in, she arrives late or not at all. Not knowing whether to expect her or not and certainly not for some time, I find myself lying on my bed, daydreaming about all the things I’d like to be doing with her. My mind is imagining her naked on my bed. She is looking at me, her eyes begging for me, and I’m compelled to oblige. I have to taste her before I can make love to her, and I ease her legs open from the knees as she looks on in anticipation. As I open her lips to me, I take one long delicious lick without breaking her gaze, and she gasps in excitement and need. I imagine myself studying her wet pussy before eating her. Her folds are slick and pink and swelling with desire. Her scent is intoxicating, and as I begin to feast on her bud, her hips start to move of their own accord.

Before my fantasy can take me any further, I sit up in my aroused stupor and fumble at the button of my pants, letting my hard cock loose. It is begging to be touched and stroked, and I imagine I’m stroking my cock in preparation to enter her body. I continue stroking myself, indulging in my fantasy. In my mind, I stop eating her and return to studying her every inch. I brush her clit with my finger as a shiver runs through her body, and I then run the finger down to her opening. I stroke the opening before pressing into her. Only a fraction of an inch at first and then back out. Her body is quivering in anticipation, and I don’t make her wait long. I continue fingering her in and out, pushing further each time, relishing the sight of my finger gliding in and out of her beautiful tight body until finally I push all the way. She looks down at herself, wanting to watch me fuck her with my finger as much as I’m enjoying the same view. She is quietly moaning as I continue to finger her deeply, and she continues watching my slick wet finger enter her over and over.

In the real world, my front door opens. But I hear nothing but the moans inside my head. I continue to stroke myself, needing my release desperately. And then I’m jerked back to reality as my only partially closed bedroom door is pushed all the way open.

* * *

When I arrive at the studio, I find it locked and dark. It is unusual for Anthony to cancel lessons and even more unusual that he wouldn’t at least call. I contemplate, only for a brief moment, driving back home. But as I was leaving no more than twenty minutes ago, my father, too, was preparing to leave, and besides, I much prefer Logan’s company to my father’s any day. Furthermore, Logan would be furious with me if I went home knowing he was out getting drunk. I am looking forward to spending the evening with Logan, something I typically don’t get to do on a Thursday, and I make it to his place in record time. As I enter the apartment, it is quiet, and Logan is not in the living room or kitchen. As I move down the hall, I see his bedroom door is ajar and hear quiet movement from within. I enter his room and gasp.