Love Me (25 page)

Instead, he says, “Whatever.”

Does he make you hot?

1am

We have fun celebrating Riley’s birthday. We start with dinner at a sports bar he loves, where he gets his photo taken with the scantily clad waitresses. Then we have a very competitive bowling tournament, which the birthday boy wins. Then back to their house for cake and ice cream. It’s really fun and not at all what I expected. Apparently, he’s been having the same party since he was twelve. 

I’m lying in Dawson’s bed, having just finished my second mistake of the day. 

“I was talking to my dad about love last night. He says that love isn’t always an instant thing. That sometimes it grows. He says that trust is the most important thing. I trust you probably more than anyone else. And seriously, Keatie, I can't imagine it being better than this. Can you?”

“I don't know. I think it probably feels pretty good with everyone. Just different.” 

He runs a finger across my stomach. “Pretty good, yes. Amazing, no. But we have all night. I’m going to have to prove it to you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Dawson runs his tongue slowly across my collarbone. "Maybe I should torture you with my tongue."

I laugh. "Riley threatened to do that the first time we hung out."

“Well, ya know, us Johnson boys, we got it going on.” 

He runs his tongue down my side. It tickles. I pull away slightly, but he does it again, slower. It tickles even more and makes me really horny. 

He looks up lazily at me. Rolls on top of me. I can feel that bigness against my skin. Usually as soon as he's hard again, he'd be in me, so I’m surprised when he continues with his tongue. 

Up the middle of my stomach, up my neck, under my chin, and to my lips. I have my hips raised up to him. I even reach for it. 

He goes, “Un uh, not yet. I want you crazy for me.” 

And I do about go crazy while he tortures me with his tongue. And now I know why it’s torture. He's using his tongue everywhere but where I want it to be. Mostly, he’s been running it down my stomach, up the insides of my thighs, and just when I'm thinking, finally, he stops and kisses up my sides again. 

I let out a sad little sigh. 

He grins at me. Continues. 

“Dawes, oh my god, please.” 

He barely gets his fingers inside me, and I'm moaning, apparently a little too loudly because he tosses a pillow on top of my head. I grab it and moan into it. I've never been loud like this before. Honestly, it’s never felt like this before. 

“Oh, that felt so good,” I say breathlessly as he pulls the pillow off my face, kisses me deeply, and pulls my legs around his waist. 

And then I need the pillow again. 

The bed is creaking. He's tightly holding my hips and slamming into me. Like, way harder than he ever has before, and oh my god. 

And when I say oh my god, it is literally a prayer of thanks. 

But then just when I think he's going to finish, he slows way down, and then pretty much stops. 

"What's wrong? I ask.

He leans down and whispers, “I don't want to be done yet."

"Can you do that?"

"I just did. Roll over,” he tells me.

I hesitate. I've never rolled over before.  

But I do, a little nervously. He pulls me up unto my hands and knees, and then he's back at it. I have a brief flash of self-consciousness, wondering if there could be some cellulite on my ass that I never noticed. But when he grabs my hips and continues the fast frenzy, I could care less about cellulite. 

It feels so good that I have to put my face into the pillow again.

Finally he does that thing where he stops, holds his breath, and I know I'm not supposed to move. Then he starts to collapse on top of me, grabs my waist, and pulls us both over on our sides. He moves my messed up hair off my neck and places little kisses down the side of it. 

I laugh. "That was . . . I want to say amazing, but . . . it was better than that."

"Was it orgasmic?” he says with a laugh. 

I breathe in, then breathe out a deep contented sigh. “Actually, I think it was. I’ve always enjoyed it a lot. But, um, never like that."

“Really? I’ve never made you before?”

“Have I ever sounded like that before?”

“Actually, no. That was hot. I thought you needed a little extra wooing."

"I thought we decided sex wasn't part of the wooing process."

“Yeah, you're right. Open the drawer on my nightstand."

I lean over, open it, and see a little present.

I get a grin on my face. "What's this?"

He grins back. "Open it and see."

I take the lid off the box. Inside is a pale pink seashell. “Is this the shell we found that day at the Hamptons?”

"Yeah, I kept it, but it kinda smelled, so there's this lady that cleans them, polishes them, and then paints the gold around the edges."

"It’s beautiful."

"I heard Braxton invite you to the beach this summer. I hope you decide to come.” 

I don't know what is wrong with me, but tears start leaking out of my eyes.

"What's wrong? If you tell me you feel guilty, I might start crying."

I laugh as I wipe away the tears. “It’s an emotional roller coaster."

“I’m sure you being here all weekend is killing him."

“Maybe.”

“I think he's going to ask you out when we get back. I think you should say yes.”

"Why!? You don't want me anymore!?"

"Uh, no." He gives me a long sweet kiss. "I needed to see with Whitney, and you probably need to see if he really touches your soul. I’m confident that it isn’t going to go well. So go out with him. Get over it. Then come back to me.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and wonder how I could ever leave in the first place.

Sunday, October 30th

My little snuggle bunny.

9am

There’s a loud bang on the door. “Breakfast in ten." 

I open my eyes. I'm exactly where I was when I fell asleep. Snuggled up in Dawson's arms, my head on his chest. I savor the feel of it. The way he smells. 

"How's my little snuggle bunny?"

"She doesn't want to move."

"It'll all work itself out, Keatie. I promise."

I run my hand across his stomach, down his abs, and then down a bit further. "You're hard.” 

"As much as I’d like to again, I'm saying no."

"You never say no."

"Keatie, last night was perfection. That's what I want you to remember. Also, ten minutes means ten minutes."

"Are we eating here? Do I have to be dressed?"

"Well, I know I’d enjoy you being naked at the breakfast table, but my mom might not appreciate it." 

“I meant do you wear your pjs or do I need to put on a dress or something? What will your mom be wearing?"

"Oh, she'll be fully dressed and ready. She gets up early."

"Shit." I start to jump up. He pulls me back down into his chest. "I love you.” Then he smacks my butt and says, "You better hurry. Right now you’re kinda a mess."

I pout.

"A hot mess. I love it. Your mascara is smeared and your hair is a wreck and I made it that way." 

I jump up, throw on his robe, sneak out the door, and tiptoe down the hall to the guest room I was supposed to sleep in. I open my door and safely get inside. 

But sitting on my bed is Braxton. "You're a mess."

"Shut up." I run into the attached bathroom and see he's right. 

Shit. 

I brush the tangles out of my hair, rub in some balm, and brush it again. It looks surprisingly good. I grab some eye makeup remover pads and get the smudges out from underneath my eyes, wash my face quick, and sweep on some powder foundation. 

I grab my Nars blush. It’s a pale pinky peach called
orgasm
, which makes me smile. I run my big fluffy brush across the top of the blush, add a little sweep, use the blush as eye shadow, curl my eyelashes, coat on some mascara, and brush my teeth. 

Braxton is sitting on the bed watching me. 

"Why are you in my room?" 

"Well, I was going to tell you it’s time for breakfast."

He gives me Riley’s naughty grin. 

“I know it’s time for breakfast, so you can go now."

"I lost track how many times you and Dawson hooked up last night. Really, I was pretty impressed. You were kinda loud. You always that loud?"

"I'm not discussing that with you."

I grab clean clothes, run in the bathroom, lock the door, and throw them on. 

I open the door, dressed and ready in record time. 

Braxton licks his lips. For a little kid, he's pretty sexy. He’s going to break a few hearts next year, for sure. "So you'd rather talk about it at breakfast in front of the family? That's cool with me. Mom will probably freak, but whatever."

I stop and glare at him. "You say one thing, make even one little innuendo, and next year, I will tell every girl at school that you suck in bed."

"I love to suck on things when I'm in bed."

“No girl will come near you."

He squints his eyes at me, sizing up my seriousness. 

"Fine. But after breakfast, you're telling me what he was doing to you in detail. I wanna make a girl moan like that."

“You know, you haven't said a bad word once this morning."

He grins, pops off the bed, and says, “Come on, I'm starved."

As we're going down the stairs, he says, "You really gonna go out with that Aiden guy?"

"Were you listening?"

"Hell, yeah. Tried the glass up against the wall and everything, but it was best through the air vent. I had you on speakerphone too so my friends could hear. I had to stand on a chair for hours, but I didn't mind." 

"Oh my gosh."

"Riley, Cam, and Dallas were in my room too. They were trying to figure out what he was doing to you based on the noises you made. I learned a lot. They made a drinking game out of it. Every time you moaned, they did a shot. They were all fucked up."

I follow Braxton into a huge sunny formal dining room. So glad I didn't come down in my pajamas. Everyone is sitting patiently waiting for us, steaming plates of breakfast foods in front of them. 

Braxton pulls out a chair for me, I give him a surprised thanks and sit down.

"Did you sleep well, dear?" their mother asks me. 

Riley and Cam both chuckle. 

"Yes, thank you. This looks wonderful."  

"This is the birthday boy's favorite breakfast,” his mom tells me, pointing at, well, everything. It’s a huge breakfast much like we ate in the Hamptons.

"He has good taste,” I say politely.  

His mom puts candles in Riley's waffles and we sing “Happy Birthday.” Then the formal dining room becomes a feeding frenzy. 

Braxton has four waffles. "I'm still growing,” he tells me. 

The boys eat. And eat. 

Then it's time for presents. 

Riley opens a bunch of presents. Clothes, a new phone, a couple video games, and a tiny extreme sports video recorder from me.

When I think we’re all done, his dad slaps him on the back and hands him a small box. Riley gets the hugest smile ever on his face, opens the box, pulls out a set of keys, and goes rushing out of the dining room. 

“Dawson, did he get a car? He already has one.”

“That car isn’t really his. Our parents just let him use it. If we get good grades and stay out of trouble, we get a cool car for our 17
^th
birthday. Let’s go see what they got him.”

He leads me through the kitchen, a laundry room, and then out a side door. 

Sitting in the little driveway is very flashy car. So different from Dawson’s badass, but subtle, BMW. Riley's present is a neon green Viper with big black stripes down the middle. It’s perfect for him. 

There are a chorus of
That's so sick
,
Tight, Hot-ass car
. Riley hugs his parents, hops in the driver’s seat, and revs the motor. 

Dallas slides up next to me and whispers, "I am so freaking hung over, and it’s all your fault. Hell, I might still be drunk.”

"Dallas, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"We heard him tell you to go out with Aiden."

“Aiden’s mad at me. He’s not going to ask me out.”

"I can see now why you're having a hard time deciding.”

"I'm mortified."

"No, you're not. That's why we love you. But seriously, I need to know what he was doing cuz I wanna make, well, every girl sound like that."

"You're gonna have to ask him what he did. I can’t even remember. And he’s never made me sound like that before.”

"Oh, we are. You're gonna go to talk to his mom while we have a conference. Even Cam was like,
Damn
."

Now, I’m sitting with his mom in the living room, knowing the boys are upstairs discussing my sex life. 

She says to me, “I’ve been trying to figure out who you remind me of since we met. It just hit me while we were eating breakfast. You had your fork out and were gesturing with it when you talked. There’s a scene in one of Abby Johnston’s movies where she does the same thing.” 

“Really? No one’s ever told me that,” I lie.

“Did you know that they’re doing a nationwide search to cast an Abby look-alike in the remake of her first film? They’re auditioning in New York soon. You should try out. Riley told us that you’re in the school play.”

“Oh, no. I, um, just do that for fun. For my college applications, you know. I don’t want to be an actor.”

“Oh, what do you want to be?”

“A doctor,” I lie.

“I’m a doctor,” she says, excitedly.

“How cool is that?”

She proceeds to tell me a whole bunch of stories about med school, her former medical practice, and Riley’s birth.

When she has exhausted that topic, she looks at her watch and says, “What are the boys doing up there? They looked sneaky."

"Braxton wants to tell them how he got grounded. Apparently there's a video?" 

She rolls her eyes. “We found him at two in the morning filming two girls in their underwear—well, no, they had on teeny jean shorts, high heels, and bras. They were dancing and drinking champagne.”