Changing Forever (19 page)

“Stop,” he growls, gripping my wrists.

I lower my eyes, not wanting to see any disappointment in his.

“Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hands. “I stopped you because I didn’t want to end the night like that. Don’t think for one second that I didn’t like it, because, Em, I fucking loved it.”

Smiling, I lean in to kiss him. He meets me halfway, much hungrier with this kiss. Hands, his and mine, are everywhere. Adrenaline is high, so high that I have no idea how I ended up on my bed with Drake straddling my thighs. His hot mouth trails down my skin, sucking and lapping each nipple before burning a path down my stomach.

Not a single thought goes through my head with
exception of the amazing things Drake Chambers can do to me.

When his fingers slip under my waistband, his eyes search mine. Life’s filled with a bunch of forks in the road, and we both know this is a major one. It’s a threshold that once we cross we can’t get back over. For me, it’s a moment that will probably
make or break the rest of my college life. I’m not the girl who considers this another college experience. This will become part of my history, good or bad.

Resting my shaky hands on his shoulders, I push lightly. He acknowledges it, pulling my pants down my legs. He stands quickly, letting his own pants fall to the floor before climbing back up the length of my body.

I feel him at my entrance, but he hesitates, studying me carefully. “I’m not a virgin,” I whisper, watching as one side of his mouth turns up.

“I never thought you were.”

“Everyone assumes,” I say, turning my head to the side.

His warm, calloused fingers press against my cheek, forcing me to look up at him again. “I’ve learned not to make any assumptions about you. You surprise me every day. Every fucking day, Em.”

Feeling him enter me, I pinch my eyes shut. Sex is an emotional thing that I’ve never let myself fully experience. I saw it as an expectation. Another mile on the road to adulthood. But this, with Drake, I want it to be different. I just don’t know what that is right now.

He buries his head in my neck, whispering to me as he continues to enter me.

“Relax.”

Another slow motion.

“I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”

A little deeper. God, it feels so good. My heart swells as he presses all the way in, filling me completely.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

He moves out, and slowly pushes back in, giving me time to adjust. He repeats this a couple more times before we find our rhythm. I never knew it could be like this, his hands and mouth paying just as much attention to my body as the rest of him. It’s never been this way for me.

My fingers tangle in his hair as my legs wrap around his trim torso, bringing us even closer. “Jesus,” he says, his lips still pressed to my neck.

“Not quite,” I tease, lifting his head to kiss his swollen lips.

He smiles against my skin. “Oh yeah,” he says as he speeds up his motions. That familiar pressure I felt in the bathroom with him that night starts again, but this time it’s even more intense. With each movement, he’s right where I need him, pushing me higher.

I love that feeling. The one that happens right before falling, and this time, I fall hard and fast, my body clenching his tightly.

“Fuck.” He pumps
into me with one final thrust, curling his fingers in my hair, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

Sweat drenches his hair and our skin. That was the best freaking physical experience I’ve ever had in my life. It’s the first time I’ve let myself let go. It’s the first time I’ve left the lights turned on, and really let someone see me, let myself see anyone.

“Are you okay?” he asks, kissing my chin. I still feel him inside me, and I want more. This part of me has been locked up for too long.

“More than okay.”

“You don’t regret it?”

“Not yet. Give me a day or two,” I tease, combing my fingers up and down his back.

Grinding his hips against mine, he says, “Then we’ll just have to do this again tomorrow, and the next day, so you don’t forget how fucking good it was.”

“That I won’t easily forget.”

“Me either.” His voice is lower this time.

A
FTER
E
MERY
STORMED
OUT
of my room earlier, I sat in the same spot for over two hours, staring at the wall. My shoulder wasn’t bothering me anymore or maybe it was, but I didn’t feel it because my chest hurt more.

I had to check on her to make sure she was okay. I had to see her to make sure I was okay.

I wasn’t after she left.

I wasn’t until I was in her room, my lips on hers. She forgave me. Now, I have to forgive myself and part of that requires giving her a piece of me. This thing we have is about more than sex, and I need to show that to her. I should have done it after she told me about her mom, but I wasn’t ready then. Maybe I’m not ready to let the past out in the open now, but I want Emery to know that she’s more than just a game to me. She means something …

Her fingertips blaze a trail on my back, relaxing me as my breathing evens out again. She trusted me. Now, I have to show her that I deserve it.

“My dad died when I was eleven,” I say quietly, my lips moving against her neck.

Her fingers stop, and she nudges me, trying to force me to look at her. “Drake.”

I need to keep talking, or I may never be able to get it out. I’ve detached myself … too much.

“He grabbed his coffee one morning, kissed each of us on the top of the head, and climbed into his car. It was the same routine he had every morning, but that morning he was upset with me …” I stop, trying to swallow down that part of the memory. Now that I look back, he had every right to be angry. I always acted like a punk where my sisters were concerned.

“Drake,” Emery whispers, pulling me back.

Her fingers lightly comb through my hair as I take a deep breath and continue. “A few minutes after he left, we heard sirens but didn’t think much of it because we lived close to a busy highway. My mom grabbed our lunches from the fridge, and we all climbed in the car to go to school.”

The next part is difficult. Emery must sense it because she slides out from under me, laying her cheek against the pillow beside mine. Face to face, nowhere to run but to the truth. To something I’ve never told anyone. “We drove through our neighborhood like we always did, but when we got to the stoplight along the highway, red and blue lights were flashing everywhere. I guess that’s what I was looking at when I heard my mom scream. I’ll never forget that scream,” I say, lowering my voice. Even now when I close my eyes, I can still hear the gut-wrenching sound that I heard that day. A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down again.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, pressing her palm to my chest. There’s just enough light shining through the window that I can see her eyes watering. I never let any tears fall, not since the first day, but right now, they’re threatening.

“His light had turned green so he started across the road, and a drunk driver crashed right into his side of the car. They said he died almost immediately.”

She stares into my eyes, cupping my cheek in her hand. “I’m sorry. So so sorry.”

Holding my stomach, I attempt to chase away the queasy feeling I have whenever I picture the bent metal that used to be his car. He didn’t stand a chance. “I didn’t just lose my dad that day. I lost my mom, too. She’s never been the same, or even a shadow of who she used to be.”

“What was your dad’s name?”

“Michael,” I answer. I can hear my mom saying it in my mind. I used to know what was going on between them by the way she said his name, whether she was happy, angry, or sad … that’s how I knew.

“How old are your sisters?”

“They’re fifteen and eleven,” I answer, quietly. “I pretty much raised them after he died.”

She briefly removes her hand from my cheek, wiping the tears from under her eyes. I don’t want her sympathy … I just want her to understand me, why I’m not all warm and fuzzy. Why I have a metal shell around my heart. “What do you mean you raised them? You were only eleven.”

I lightly kiss the tip of her nose. “My mom left us, too. Not literally, but she spent days in her room, barely eating. I didn’t realize it then, but she’d fallen into a deep depression. A family friend started taking us to and from school, I made our dinner, made sure they took baths, and went to bed on time.”

“How long did it take her to come out of it?” She snuggles into my chest, laying her head under my chin.

“She hasn’t.” I wipe under my eyes, stopping the tears from rolling down my cheeks. This whole day has been too much, especially ending like this.

Her lips press to my chest. “How did you keep up with football? I mean, the practices and stuff.”

The vision of my dad in the backyard in his dress pants, button-up shirt, and loosened tie flashes through my mind. Every day, spring through fall, we were out in that backyard perfecting my skills. At first I loved it because of all the attention he was giving me, but there were days it became too much. It still is sometimes.

“Football was his dream. I’m doing everything I can to make it happen,” I whisper, wrapping her hair around my fingers.

She straightens, staring into my eyes. “Is it your dream?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Drake,” she starts, using her fingertip to straighten the lines that have formed on my forehead. “Have you ever talked about this with anyone? I mean, really talked through
it all.”

“I can’t, not yet anyway. It brings up too many memories that I’d rather forget. Well, until you.” I stop, brushing my fingers between her breasts. “Help me forget again, Em. I need to forget.”

This whole night has had a pattern: sadness, sex, sadness. I kept my promise and gave her the biggest piece of me, and it actually took some weight off my chest. Now, I want to complete the pattern so I can forget again.

Rolling her onto her back, I seat myself between her legs and get completely lost again.

I didn’t spend the whole night with Emery. She mentioned that she didn’t know when her roommate would be back, and I took that as my cue.

I don’t know what I was expecting to feel when I woke up, but this wasn’t it. I crave more of her, even though I’ve seen it all. There’s no regret or guilt. There’s this big part of me that just wants to be with her.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand, startling me. I pick it up, immediately seeing the familiar number I usually avoid. Maybe it’s my relaxed mood, but I decide to answer. “Hello.”

“Drake.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Her usual soft sigh comes over the line. I think knowing I’m here relaxes her. “How’s school?”

Covering my forehead with my hand, I rub my temples in a precautionary measure. “It’s good. Busy.”

“And football?”

“Coach is working us hard, but it’s been worth it so far. We’re undefeated.”
Most parents come to at least our home games, but not my mom. I don’t even know if she checks the scores.

“I know,” she whispers, surprising me a little.

“You should come to a game this year. We have a shot at the Big Ten Championship,” I say, holding my breath as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Silence follows, and I bite my lip to keep myself from saying anything else. “I’ll see if I can make it. Money’s been short, but maybe toward the end of the season.” I know what’s coming next, and I fucking hate it. It’s the real reason she called. “Can I borrow some money? Tessa needs shoes for basketball, and I don’t have it.”

She doesn’t know this, but my sole purpose for having a job is to help cover the things she can’t. I work at the field a few nights a week, and every dollar I make goes into an account for moments like this. It doesn’t mean I like it, because I don’t. I fucking hate this life. “I’ll transfer some into your account later today.”

“Thank you. I really hate asking you.”

“It’s no problem,” I lie as I scrub my hand over my face.

“I applied for a new job at the insurance office.”