Page 91 of Frat House Fling
“I know you like them.”
“I do. And I like you too.” I leaned against him. His fingers stroking my hair felt amazing. And suddenly, I wanted more. This was my Night Owl. The man who’d given me my first orgasm, albeit in a remote way. But he’d heard me, so it felt like he’d been there. He’d gone from scaring me to making me feel safe. From being a guy I put up with to a guy I wanted. “Wait here,” I whispered.
He watched as I rooted through my duffel bag, but I didn’t find what I was looking for. I picked up a bag he’d set on the dresser, and suddenly, he was on his feet.
“No,” he said.
“What?”
“Don’t put it on for me, Hailey.”
“What’s wrong?”
He looked agitated. That wasn’t the response I’d expected. “It’s okay with Theo. With Ian. They have something to offer you. They’re good men. But I’m not, Hailey. And I don’t deserve anything from you.”
I abandoned my search and went to his side. “Please, come sit back down.”
“I should go.”
“Please?”
He didn’t look happy, but I took his huge hand in my small one. I was about to lead him back to the couch, but it was bright and airy over there—and we were nocturnal creatures. “Will you do something for me?”
He shook his head and looked ready to bolt for the door again. “I should probably?—”
“You said you don’t deserve anything from me,” I said, and he nodded. “But what if I deserve something from you?”
He thought that over. “What do you want?”
“Will you lay down with me and hold me like you did yesterday?”
“Hailey, I?—”
“Please?”
I thought he was going to refuse, but he went to the bed, took off his shoes and then slid under the weighted blanket. He held it up for me. I climbed in, and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest. His body was so large that more of it covered me than the blanket did.
For a long time, he just held me, which was exactly what I wanted.
And then he spoke in my ear. “I’m not a good man, Hailey. If you knew the things I’ve done…” he trailed off.
I took a deep breath, or as deeply as I could with his arms circling my stomach. “Does it have to do with why you don’t drink?”
It was almost a full minute before he answered. “Yes.” He slid back, obviously intending to get out of bed, but I turned over, reaching for him. “Please stay.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking. Or who you’re asking it to.”
I voiced the question that had been on my mind for a while. “Did someone die?” I was almost afraid to know the answer.
“No,” he finally said. “But there are other ways to ruin a life. I tried to make it right, but there are some things you can’t take back.”
“Don’t tell me.” I put a finger over his lips. “Not now. When you’re ready.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. I said I didn’t want to talk about why I liked being a student, and you were okay with me not getting into it right now.”
He shook his head sadly. “Trust me when I say they’re not equivalent situations.”