Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox

20

Reagan

Istare at the clock, my heart crashing against my ribs as the minutes slowly tick by. I toss restlessly, my ears waiting for the sound of sirens, or something…something to indicate Rocco is in trouble. I never should have let him leave. I should have kept him here with me, distracted him in this bed. But he’s not mine. He doesn’t have to listen to me, and I can’t tell him what to do. After seeing his bike like that, he obviously needed alone time. I just hope he stays alone. If Cochrane knew what was good for him, he’d hole up in Wolf House and not poke his head out until classes finish in April. What he did was so incredibly wrong, and unforgiveable.

The door downstairs creaks open and I sit up in my dark room, my heart thudding to the beat of the footsteps climbing up the stairs. They pause outside my door. I swallow and wait, and I don’t even want to think about how happy it makes me when I hear the light knock.

“You awake, Sunshine?”

His rough and raspy voice slides over my skin, and I rub the goosebumps from my arms.

I flick on my lamp. “I’m awake.”

“Can I come in?”

I actually laugh at that. After our time at the cottage, he’s asking permission? I suppose I did tell him my room was out of bounds. I shake my head, but the truth is, I love him a little more for checking with me first. Honestly, it’s insane how fast things changed between us, how I handed myself over to him—no holds barred.

“Yes.”

My door opens slowly, and become acutely aware of the man standing there, his big frame eating up the entrance and overwhelming me in the most amazing ways. Every cell in my body vibrates with want.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and look him over, relieved that he’s not bleeding or broken. He closes the door behind himself, and his scent fills the room as he steps closer. “You went looking for him, didn’t you?”

He stands over me, and goes quiet for a long time. “Would you hate me if I said yes?”

I pound the bed. “Yes.”

“I guess you’ll have to hate me then.”

“You promised.”

“No, Sunshine. I never promised. If I did, I wouldn’t have gone looking. I don’t break promises.”

“Did you find him?”

“No.” He tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Can I get in?”

I nod and my body warms as he peels off his shirt and proceeds to get completely naked. I lift the covers and he crawls in beside me. I suddenly forget that I’m angry he went searching for Cochrane. His warmth reaches out to me, and soothes the cold living inside me.

“Then you’ll promise me you won’t go after him?” He hesitates. “It’s not that I’m protecting him. I just don’t want this to escalate. I don’t want you to lose your scholarship. We can get your bike fixed. It might even be covered by house insurance.”

“Not if I don’t live here.”

“I don’t know, we’ll see. What I do know is what Cochrane did was wrong and unforgiveable, but your bike, it’s not unfixable, you know?”

“Are you going to meet with him, talk to him?” he asks, his voice tired and low as he turns to me and goes up on one elbow.

“I don’t know. I’m just as mad as you are, Rocco. He’s never been accountable for anything. Maybe he needs to know that there are consequences for his actions.”

He pushes the blankets down, exposing my T-shirt. He runs his fingers over the goosebumps forming on my arm. “Maybe he needs a good beating.”

“Roc—”

“If he says one word to you that you don’t like, if he lays one unwanted finger on you that you don’t want, he’s a dead man.”

My chest expands, loving the way Rocco wants to protect me. It’s crazy, but so damn romantic. “Rocco, please.”

“Please what?” he asks, his voice low and deep, as he slides over me. He traces my lips with his thumb. His gaze moves over my face, and his cock presses against my legs. He licks my bottom lip, a groan of pleasure filling the room. “Please kiss me right here? Is that what you’re begging for, Sunshine?”

“Oh, I get it. You can’t fight so you want to fuck.”

“Yeah, you get it, Sunshine. Nothing gets past you, does it?”

For a second, I think he’s kidding me. That this is about something else altogether. I want to believe that. I really do. But a couple times now, he’s brought up the money and mentioned he wouldn’t be here if Cochrane had just paid him. I don’t want to think about that right now. Not when he’s looking at me like he’s desperate for my kisses, my touch—that if he doesn’t get them, he might combust. My heart dances a little, hoping that’s true.

“Nothing gets by me,” I lie. Everything gets by me and I have no idea what we’re doing here, only that it feels right, and I want to keep on doing it.

I part my lips for him and he kisses me. His hard body presses down on me, and this, right here, right now, is exactly where I am meant to be.

“We have a problem, Sunshine,” he grumbles, and buries his face in my neck. His breath scorches my skin as he kisses me and I moan in sheer delight. It’s been fun discovering each other’s sensitive spots, and I love that he’s a quick learner.

“What’s the problem?” I ask quietly, not really worried he’s going to say something bad. He’s hot and aroused, and wants me as much as I want him.

“You have too many clothes on.” He winks at me, and positions himself between my legs. “Let’s fix that.”

He tugs my pajama shorts to my ankles and tosses them away. He looks almost feral as he growls and spreads my legs. Dropping down, he slides his hands under my ass, and brings my pussy to his face. My God, I love when he licks me like that. It’s hot and sexy and takes me to the edge so goddamn fast it leaves my head spinning.

“Yes, Rocco. I love that,” I tell him.

He doesn’t lift his face, and instead mumbles into my sex. “Me too.”

He eats at me, sucks my clit and slides two thick fingers into me. Just like that, I shatter around his deft touch. The nicest thing about coming beneath his tongue is the sounds of pleasure it pulls from him.

“You needed me,” he mumbles from between my legs. He’s not asking me that. I actually think he’s telling himself that, like he needs to somehow convince himself of it.

“I needed you, Rocco.”

His head lifts and there is a new kind of intensity about him when his gaze meets mine. “I need you too, Reagan.”

My heart stops beating as he climbs up my body, stalking, hunting, seeking what is rightfully his. His muscles are tight, as he slides them under me and gathers me into his arms. A wild animal, yet so gentle.

I put my mouth to his ear. “I want you inside me.”

His muscles ripple beneath my hands as I run them around his back, lightly scratching his skin. My entire body quakes, my thighs are slick with my juices as I squirm and try to force him inside, even though we don’t have a condom.

He presses a kiss to my breasts. “Yeah, babe. I want that too. Let me get a condom.”

“I don’t want that.”

He goes perfectly still, his gaze moving over my face, a check in of sorts. “You’re not protected.”

“I know.” God, what the hell am I doing? “It’s what I want.”

“Reagan.”

“Please, Rocco.”

He curses, and lightly runs his thumb over my cheek. “You know I’d give you anything you fucking wanted, but we can’t make a mistake here.”

A mistake.

Stupid tears fill my eyes. I know he’s not saying I’m a mistake…I just don’t know, I’m a hot freaking mess of emotions all of a sudden. “You’re right. I know. I’m just…emotional, I guess. Everything that’s happened over the weekend, and your bike…”

He swallows, and while he’s portraying calm, the rippling of his jaw as he clamps down tells me he’s every bit as affected by all this as I am. It’s like were on a goddamn rollercoaster that’s about to run off the rail, and while we’re having fun, we know we can only crash land.

“Why don’t you get on the pill?” he says slowly. “Then I can take you the way you want.”

“Okay.”

He lays over me a little longer, doing another check-in, and when I smile to let him know I’m okay—although I’m pretty sure I’ll never be okay again—he goes to his pants, finds a condom and puts it on.

Two seconds later, he’s inside of me, and I block my mind to everything but the pleasure he brings. I move with him, our bodies linked as one, our arms holding and hugging as our hearts beat against each other.

We don’t speak. Instead we just feel and enjoy. His mouth goes to my ear.

“Reagan…”

“Yeah?” I manage to get out as my pleasure peaks.

“I love…this.”

I gulp, my heart stilling in my chest. For the briefest of seconds, in the small pause, I thought he was going to tell me he loved me. “I love this too.”

He moves inside me, hitting all the right spots, and I let go, soaking his pistoning cock. “Fuck yeah,” he growls and throws his head back and lets go. I ride out each glorious pulse, and he holds me tighter, squeezing the air from my lungs, but I don’t care. I can’t seem to get close enough to him, either. “I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

“Me either,” I say. His head lifts and eyes that hold so many questions lock on mine. I don’t want him to ask. I don’t know any of the answers. I don’t know anything at all, other than what I feel for him.

He presses his lips to mine and doesn’t vocalize what’s all over his face. He slides out of me, disposes of the condom and grabs a few tissues. As soon as he finishes wiping us down, there’s a noise outside my window and we both freeze for a second.

“Stay there,” he says and walks to my window to glance out. He stands there for a long time, staring out into the dark night. His body is stiff, ready for battle, and my heart jumps into my throat.

“What is it?” I tug the blanket up to my neck.

“Nothing.”

He comes back to my bed, crawls in and pulls me to him. I rest my head on his shoulder and put my hand on his pounding heart. “Sleep,” he orders, and pulls the blanket over our heads, forming a tent. Something’s different. Something is wrong. What did he see out that window? I’m not sure, and while he’s with me here physically, he’s withdrawing. This tent—his treehouse—his way of keeping himself safe. Is he afraid of me hurting him? Is he afraid of hurting me?

I lift my head to see him. “I’m going to call my Dad.”

“Right now?”

I chuckle. “No, tomorrow. I’m going to tell him your bike was damaged when we were away checking on the cottage. I feel responsible.”

“Not your fault.”

“Dad will want to pay for the damages.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sunshine. Don’t you know I’m going to be in the NFL? Money won’t be a problem.”

“I bet. But you can pay me back when that happens, if it’s important to you. Although you don’t have to. None of this is your fault.” He laughs, and I frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Money. Betting.”

“What’s so funny about those things?”

“Cochrane owing me money because of a bet is what got us in this mess.” I freeze and he stops. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.” He shakes his head.

“Do you wish he would have just paid you?”

“Yeah…no…I mean…”

He doesn’t finish and I don’t press. I lay back down on his chest, and squeeze my eyes to keep the tears back. For some unknown reason, Cochrane’s words come back to haunt me.

“He’s not who you think he is, Reagan.”

Maybe I should talk to Cochrane and find out exactly what he meant by that.