All the Different Ways Page 10

  He reaches down to my center and begins to tug and push on my clit. I never knew that could be so erotic, but mixed with grinding on his cock, I’m ready to come again after just a short while. He has me so amped up with just who he is. I want him with me, though, so I lean back and stroke between his legs until I feel him draw up. I ride him harder, faster until I gasp and cry out. Cullen arches his back and bites his luscious lower lip, groaning deep and low, thickening and pulsing as he falls over the edge. He pulls me forward and I fall to his chest. Our bodies are spent, and I can’t feel anything but his heart pound beneath my cheek.

  Eventually, Cullen slides out from under me with a kiss to my shoulder. When he returns, he voices aloud while getting under the covers, “If you keep making me have to get up and run to the bathroom, we’re just gonna have to take all this in there and stay.”

  I giggle and snuggle into his side again. I’m sated and content, even pretty damn happy. I let the safe envelope of his arms wrap around me and tuck me in close. There’s nothing like the feeling of his hold on me. I wouldn’t be able to describe it to anyone who’d ask, but I know there’s nowhere safer, nowhere I’d rather be, and nowhere more astounding.

  ***

  In a haze, I feel the covers being pulled away from my chin, down off my back, and my eyes flip open. It’s so dark in here; I can’t see but I know the covers are gone. Immediately adrenaline races through my body and the terrifying sensation of fight or flight causes me to scramble up to the headboard among the pillows. I’m naked.

  “NO!” I shout. My heart is thudding in my ears and chest. Nothing sounds right as I grab for pillows as a measly shield.

  The light comes on. I squint in blindness. My hands are out defensively and my ears feel like I’m in an airplane on a quick descent. There’s a voice, and it’s deep and rough.

  “No! Stop!” I scream again.

  “Violet! It’s me! It’s Cullen!”

  I swipe at my eyes and clutch a pillow. Cullen is standing by the bed, looking about as distressed as I feel.

  “Oh my god, Cullen, I’m so sorry.”

  “What the hell, Violet?” He comes to me and wraps me in his arms. He kisses my hair. I cling to him, ashamed.

  I don’t respond which causes him to pull back and study my face. “Seriously, Violet, what just happened?”

  “You’re dressed. Are you leaving?”

  “Well, I was but I don’t think I should now. I mean, I was coming to kiss you goodbye but the covers were pulled up so far, I couldn’t hardly get to you. I went to tug them down a little and, well, here we are.”

  I sigh and look down at my hands.

  “Was it a nightmare like before?”

  I shake my head.

  “Ok, then I don’t understand.”

  I sit still and pick at the pillow’s seam. I don’t know what to say.

  “Talk to me, Violet. Please.”

  I venture a peek up at his face and just crumble inside. He’s pleading with me to tell him what’s wrong with me but how can I? I can’t tell anyone the extent to what Anden did or how defective it makes me.

  “Cullen, I…” His chocolatey eyes have me drowning in the illusion that I might be able to fight through this and put all my pieces back together without having to explain the whole story. I cling to that thread as I do what I usually do and swallow down the shame of the tale I’m about to tell. The truth of what happened and the lies I use to cover it up are starting to blend. Pretty soon, neither one will matter anymore.

  I give him a weak smile and swallow thickly. I start again, “I’m fine. I was just disoriented when I woke up so fast, and I freaked out. It’s really nothing; I’m good.”

  He sits beside me, face to face, where he has full access to studying all of the features that can betray me and tell him what a liar I am. Cullen squints and leans in so close that our noses are almost touching. My heart is racing.

  “You know I know that’s bullshit, right? You weren’t disoriented, you were scared shitless. I won’t push you, but we need to talk about whatever is haunting you. Maybe it’ll help.”

  “You don’t want my story, Cullen,” I whisper in protest.

  “I do want it, Violet, and I think you’ll tell it to me. You’ll trust me and you’ll tell me.”

  Without another word, Cullen puts his lips over mine for a searing kiss that makes me see moonbeams. His honeyed tongue sweeps under my lip and rips my heart in two because I can’t. I can’t tell him. He puts all he has left for tonight into this kiss—I can feel it. He wants me to talk to him, trust him with the truth that I can barely handle myself.

  Cullen offers me his hand when he gets up to go. I take it and draw the blanket up around myself as we walk out the bedroom door. We make the journey downstairs in silence, our joined hands insisting that there’s enough here for trust to stand on. Still, I hesitate.

  “I really don’t think I should go. You still don’t seem right to me.”

  “That’s really great, Cullen, thanks,” I grumble sarcastically.

  Cullen ignores my sassiness. “This sucks. Either way I’m an ass. Staying means I don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s bothering you and leaving looks like I don’t give a shit.”

  He smooths his hands down his face and then runs them through his hair.

  “Ugh, I’m fine. I promise. You’re only an ass if you make me stand here wrapped up in a blanket till the sun comes up. It’s ok to go home. Text me later.”

  Hesitation keeps him a minute more, but he relents and sighs, “Fine, I’ll text you.”

  With a final kiss, he’s out the door. I lock it, double check it with a tug, and scurry upstairs where I collapse back into bed.

  I purposely think about Cullen’s hands on me, his body on mine, in mine, to avoid facing the near catastrophe I just caused. I figure I am going to have to explain myself—the nightmares, the flashbacks—but Cullen and I just got started. He just thinks he wants my story; he doesn’t really want all this heavy shit right now. Besides, we have school starting and he’s got the new football season on top of that. Why would he want to take on more than he’s already got going? That thought deflates me quite a bit. I wish I wasn’t such a burden, that my past wasn’t quite so severe that there is fear in sharing it. No, I need to keep it to myself and let it fade away.

  I flip over thinking a new position might give me a new train of thought, but my covers still hold the scent of a gorgeous, sexy offensive coordinator, so no such luck. My mind wanders to what Renee would think about my mental rambling and then I start to panic about school. How is this going to work with students and teachers around? Do we tell our coworkers? Our principal? I don’t know if I can handle all the judgement. I mean, my family turned out to be great, but they knew some of the things about what a dickwad Anden was. Work is different. For all they know, he was a saint! They’ll see me as some kind of tramp getting it on with Cullen Metz!

  I roll into my pillow and scream. Something has to get rid of this mind-scrambling teacup ride my brain is on. I grab the remote and turn on the flat screen. A bluish glow is cast over my room and immediately my eyes scan across the space to an object I didn’t notice before. I put the remote down and amble out of bed. Padding over, I pick up Cullen’s wadded up pinstripe shirt. As any normal, hot-blooded girl would, I pull it into my face and take a long, exaggerated breath, drawing in his masculine scent until it fills my entire sinus cavity and makes me light-headed. I take it over to bed and crawl in with it. I tuck the cotton blend under my cheek. If I can’t have Cullen here in his magnificent form, this is the next best thing, I guess.

  Cullen

  So, spending time with Violet was supposed to help me out, right? Wrong. Not only do I see her every time I blink but my fingers and my clothes smell like her—some sort of lilac and sandalwood soap. Yeah, I looked in her shower. The smell was driving me mad. I had to know. I’m a problem-solver.

  I’m driving home and I keep running through this
afternoon in my head. It’s like Madden’s doing a play-by-play in my fucking brain. First she opens up the door wearing that little grey dress, swinging from her curvy hips every single time she moved. Are all her summer clothes tiny? All I had to do was stroke my tongue against hers and a rocket of heat went straight to my dick, waking it up, announcing: “Game day! It’s go time!” But I really don’t have to touch her, do I? No, I got that trick worked out to where I just have to think about her, or smell her, or know she’s nearby.

  Fuck, is the air conditioning on in here? Sweat drips between my shoulder blades and I forcibly hit the button for the seat coolers. I turn up the radio, too. Maybe it will distract me from the heat.

  I squint out the windshield. Oncoming lights seem unexpectedly blinding tonight, but maybe I’m just amped up on a smart little brunette who tastes like Pixi Stix and has my heart doing funny things inside my chest.

  My shorts are tight by the time I pull into my driveway, round the back to the garage, and park my truck. I automatically head upstairs to shower, cool my shit down some, but hesitate midway up because it’s going to wash off Violet. I close my eyes and sink to the cold wood for a minute. Damn if she doesn’t love football. I rest my head in my hands. She came to our home opener. My elbows are digging into my knees. She came to see me for shit’s sake. Oh. My. God. I could fall for this girl. I might be already…

  Twisting a hundred eighty degrees on the stairs, I run up the rest of the way and stumble into my bedroom. Screw a shower. I need some sleep.

  My shirt gets tossed in the corner where the rest of my shit goes until I do laundry; I pull off my shorts and underwear and toss them in the pile, too. Grabbing some gym shorts, I slide them on and coast into the cool, crisp sheets on my bed. Gotta love clean sheets.

  Then, the real fucking begins because I can’t shut my mind down. I close my eyes and see her pert, pink nipple in my face, taunting me, telling me to pull it in, and bite it just a little. I lick my bottom lip and taste her sweet, soft skin sliding over my tongue as she pants for more. My fingers buzz with the memory of her hot, tight sex.

  I turn on my side, my dick beyond hard as a rock, and curl my pillow over my face. Flashes of Violet’s mouth sinking over me and then her hips grinding out yet another orgasm stretches the limits of the seams in my shorts. I growl loudly into my pillow, refusing to work on my own arousal because it’s not going to help anyway. He only wants one person and honestly, so do I.

  Throwing back the covers, I grab my playbook from the dresser and start working out offensive plays. I’ve got a plan to get some of our backups primed in practice for getting off the bench and busting out some unexpected game-winners if we’re in a situation where our asses are getting handed to us. It’ll take some time, sweat, and probably some blood and vomit, but our guys want it and they can make it happen.

  I’m drawing out the slant void, trying to determine which wide receivers are quick enough off the bench to break early. I stare at the circles for offense and the horizontal line of squares representing where the defense will be. The lines blend and blur. I just see Violet, feel her skin sliding over mine, hear her soft breaths and little gasps wherever my fingers or mouth find a new spot to tease.

  “Fucking hell!” I choke out a laugh and scrub my hands down my face. This is hopeless. The book gets tossed to the side as I grab my TV remote and slide back down into the covers. The best I can hope for tonight is to drown out my thoughts with some dumbass show and maybe salvage a few hours of sleep before work tomorrow.

  ELEVEN

  Violet

  “School. Ugh. Why have I spent every year since I was six going to school in one capacity or another? Oh right, because I love it,” I tell Renee as we walk into our first meeting of the year together. It’s Monday. I’m nervous, really freaking nervous. Not only am I facing all of the people that I work with since Anden’s death, but I have this “thing” with Cullen going on now, too. And while I’m excellent at self-control and made sure my “I’m fine” mask was in place this morning, on the inside I’m having a private meeting at the corner of “Get me the fuck out of here” and “Bite me”.

  Renee laughs, “And you’re an excellent teacher. Now, here. Hold my coffee. Jesus, you’d think they’d have the chairs out for us. It’s not like this is a spur-of-the-moment meeting.”

  She keeps muttering as she pulls three cafeteria chairs down from a neat little tower by the back wall and proceeds to shove them under a table away from most everyone. She’s totally ignoring my freak out, and I’m not sure if I should be grateful or stamp my foot.

  “Three. Why three? Renee?” I snap my fingers and whisper forcefully.

  “Oh, come on now. Just because Cullen’s all up in your shit and you don’t know what to do about it, doesn’t mean he can’t sit here,” she waves her hand at the chair, takes her coffee back, and smiles with a sparkle in her eye.

  “Renee. I said I needed help. This isn’t help. This is sabotage. I’m having a heart attack,” I sputter, sweat starting to pool under my hair at the nape of my neck. It’s dripping between my shoulder blades, too, and I kinda want to throw up. She casually sits down.

  “Hey, Beautiful,” Cullen’s deep voice rumbles as he passes right behind me. I feel his hand swipe low across my back. I inhale his clean soap and warmth, letting it surround and fill me. He pulls out one of the chairs Renee set up. Silently, I sit.

  “Well, that’s more than I could get her to do,” Renee quips. “She thought she was having a heart attack before you showed up.”

  I try really hard not to stick my tongue out at her or kick her shin. “I’m tired, Renee. Tired.”

  Cullen chuckles and sits to my other side, sandwiching me between himself and Renee. I fold my hands in my lap while Cullen leans on his elbow on the table, looking at Renee and me. His knee keeps touching mine and I can’t concentrate. He’s got on these washed out jeans that hug his thighs and a grey t-shirt boasting the Raptors, our football team. It’s tight cross his chest and with his arm flexed like that on the table, I think the seams stand a real chance at popping. He’s been maintaining his well-trimmed beard and I think about where it was two days ago: sliding down my neck, dragging over my breasts, down my stomach, tickling inside my thigh…

  “Violet?” Cullen briefly squeezes my knee as Renee pokes my arm.

  I swallow, “What?”

  I turn my head towards Renee who’s holding a clipboard.

  “You gotta sign in, girl, that’s all. Then you can go back to thinkin’ whatever it was you were thinkin’.”

  She hands me the clipboard with an obnoxious smile, and I find my name for signing. I can’t believe I let my mind wander like that.

  Cullen seems enraptured by this whole exchange; I nearly fling the sign-in sheet at him in mortification.

  “I was thinking about biology. Biology, Renee.” I immediately want to take it back because now that it’s out, I know what it sounds like. I can feel my ears burning.

  “Oh, I’ll bet,” she says with a wink.

  Cullen coughs and sits back in his chair while I roll my eyes and cross my arms. Cullen rests his leg against mine, “God, I’ve missed these meetings.”

  “Cullen! Hey, hon!”

  A screechy voice yanks my attention from the heat of his denim-clad limb on mine. I look over to find Claire, Cullen’s classroom neighbor, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind. He’s patting her hands. Smiling. This is awfully friendly.

  “The team’s looking great so far,” she’s yammering. “Hart’s really got an arm on him for a sophomore. Or, is he a junior? You know, I was watching practice the other day from my window before I had to go coach cheerleading. I was trying to get some work done but ya’ll were just so captivating.”

  She looks up at me and winks. I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. I press my teeth together and clinch my jaw with the sweetest, fakest smile I have. I don’t like the gnawing feeling inside my belly. It’s sour and feels a lot
like jealousy. What am I jealous of? Technically, Cullen can do what he wants. We’re not even in an actual relationship. My mouth is apparently not up to speed on that, though.

  “That they are, Claire. Good word ‘captivating’,” Syrup drips off my reply and I pull my leg from Cullen’s. I maintain eye contact with Claire, hoping she’ll get uncomfortable and unfurl her twiggy arms from his neck. He may not be mine, but he’s definitely not hers. Instead of having to wait for her to get the clue though, Cullen carefully ducks out of her chokehold. Slightly peeved, Claire humphs and looks back to me.

  “You look good, Violet, you know, considering,” she puts on a sympathetic pout and I tighten my grip on my own hands in my lap.

  I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I chant in my head.

  “Considering what, Claire?” Renee puts her hand on my shoulder.

  “What happened to her poor husband, of course. Such a tragedy. You seem to be doing well, though. You’re so strong. I’d be a mess!”

  My hands start to shake and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so fucking mad that my blood is boiling or if it’s from cutting off the circulation to my hands by squeezing them so tightly. Either way, I’m struggling with control. Renee rubs my shoulder a few times, and I notice that Cullen has silently adjusted his position to have his back to me with his arm out to the side, resting on my chair. He looks like a giant shield.

  Before I can respond to Claire, Cullen says to me over his shoulder, “Violet, I left that form I need in your room. You want to come with me to get it, or just give me your keys?”

  “What? Oh, no, I’ll come with you,” I take his cue and run with it. “It’s in my desk. Renee?”

  She waves me off, glaring at Claire, “Nah, get the form. I’m good here.”

  Cullen gets up and ushers me out of my chair, standing between me and Claire. I’m not sure if he tells her bye or not because I’m marching out of the cafeteria like I’m on fire and suffocating with the smoke. Air is rushing through my ears to the point that I can’t hear my own footsteps or even Cullen’s to know if he’s following me. I’m so angry.