I collapsed over him, and his arms went around me, clutching me tight.
“Holy shit,” I breathed into the crook of his neck. Safe, as the last ribbons of the orgasm shuddered through me. I sank into perfect bliss, into him. I could have slept for a million years, wrapped in him.
Holden’s hand found my hair at the back of my head and the soft sensation broke me out of my stupor. I jerked my head up and searched his eyes.
“Are you…? Are you okay?”
To my shock, Holden was blinking away tears.
“Perfect,” he said thickly and sniffed. “It was perfect, you bastard.”
A small laugh burst out of both of us. Carefully, I pulled out of him with a small grunt, and we lay for a few minutes more, his fingers tangling lazily in my hair.
I started to drift off to sleep, but in all the months we’d been together, I’d never spent the night. An unspoken rule of our arrangement. A futile effort to keep things casual.
I forced myself to leave the bed and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up, disposed of the condom, then ran warm water over a washcloth. I came back and Holden was lying on his side, watching me. I wiped the cloth over Holden’s skin, his penis, and gently drew it between his legs.
He closed his eyes, a pained expression drawing his brows in tight. As sure as I knew my own name, I knew no one had done this for him before.
Anger burned hot. I tossed the washcloth aside and curled up behind Holden, wrapped my arms around him, and drew him tight to me. His back to my chest, his hands locked in mine.
“You don’t have to be home?” he asked warily.
I tensed. “Not yet. Unless—?”
“Good.” He pressed himself closer to me and in moments, he was asleep.
I lay awake for a long time, feeling the rise and fall of his chest in my arms, his heart beating under my hand.
Mine…
But Holden wasn’t mine. I wasn’t his. In a few short weeks, we’d both be gone.
I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking the thought from this perfect night. I slept.
Sometime later, I woke still wrapped around Holden. Protectively. The clock on the nightstand read four a.m.
I planted a kiss between his shoulder blades and carefully disentangled myself. Cold air swooped in wherever we no longer touched. I tucked the covers around him, making sure he would be warm, then dressed quickly and crept out.
Back home, I came in through the garage door that led to the kitchen. A pool of yellow light fell over the round table. My dad sat there, my college acceptance letters fanned out in front of him.
“Hey,” I said cautiously. “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time…”
“It’s okay, my boy. Couldn’t sleep. Your mom…” He swallowed hard. “I guess I’m just thinking too hard tonight.”
I nodded and sat down with him.
“What have you been up to?” he asked with a forced smile. “Not too much trouble, I hope.”
My heart cracked a little. For his pain and for me that I couldn’t talk to him, father and son, about the milestones in my life.
I lost my virginity tonight, I wanted to say. With a guy. And it was fucking perfect.
“Not much.” I glanced at the letters. “What’s all this?”
“You haven’t answered any of them,” he said.
I blinked. “I haven’t? Yes, I have. Alabama…?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. The deadline has passed.”
The earth seemed to tilt on its axis and a great gust of relief swept through me, then died the next second.
“The gal from Admissions called today, asking for you. I told her we just lost track of the deadline and she said she’d make an exception.” His smile widened slightly. “That’s how much they want you, son. I’m so proud.”
I swallowed. “So what happens next?”
“You accept and then in a few short weeks, we pack you up. Training camp starts the first week in July—”
“Dad,” I said, my hand on his. “How can I leave her?”
He shook his head slowly. “River…she’s going to leave us first.”
“Maybe not,” I said, trying to make myself believe it.
“She will, son,” Dad said, tears shining in his eyes. “And if not…we take everything one day at a time. That’s all we can do. That’s all anyone can do, right?”
His voice broke and he covered his eyes with one hand, shoulders shaking. Wood scraped linoleum as I pushed out of my chair and stood over him. I put my arm around him, giving him whatever I had to give.
And even as I held my sobbing father, part of me wondered if he could smell Holden on me or if his scent had already faded away.
Chapter Nineteen
I peeked into my English class. Ms. Watkins was grading papers at her desk, a half-eaten macaroni salad in a plastic to-go container beside her. I sucked in a breath and knocked.
She smiled brightly as she waved me in. I slid into a desk in the front row directly in front of her and slouched over, resting my chin on my fist on the wood. Someone had scratched Martin Blasely sux cock onto the surface.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Ms. Watkins was watching me. “Something on your mind, Holden?”
River Whitmore was on my mind. I could still feel him everywhere on me. Inside me. Christ, I’d considered myself somewhat experienced on the sexual front, but River had obliterated everyone that came before him and probably everyone who’d come after.
I was already ruined, and he ruined me all over again. In the best way.
Ms. Watkins delicately cleared her throat.
“Right, yes, the business
