Page 26 of Teach Me To Sin
Silence falls again. Occasionally a car drives by, way up on the road, but we’re really lost in the void out here. “Who is he?” Colson asks with a hint of irritation.
It’s not the question I expected, so it takes my scrambled-up brain a while to form the words. “I…uh, he just…” My heart sinks as I realize there is no answer. It’s something I’ve been subconsciously aware of, but doing an excellent job ignoring. “I don’t know,” I finish awkwardly.
Colson scruffs me and tugs until we’re sitting face to face, even though I can only see the faint glint of his eyes. “You’re going to announce him publicly as the flagship athlete in your controversial program and you have no idea who he is.”
I start to fumble out ten different excuses, but in the end none of them are true. “I suppose so.”
Letting go of me, he scoffs bitterly. “I cannot even express how much you annoy me.”
Everything clicks back into its rightful place, almost comfortingly, as anger flares in my chest. “Does bitching about other people’s bad life choices make you feel better about your own?”
“Why do you think I make bad choices?” he snaps back, but I can hear amusement in his voice.
I’d never say the words if I wasn’t drunk off darkness and the tail end of a massive breakdown. “Because you’ve been stalking me like you’re lovesick ever since we met.”
The silence this time feels heavy, and I become aware of the body heat trapped between us. I’ve thought countless times about Benji sucking my cock and squirming on top of me as he came, but I’ve kept my mind well away from this man. I’ve tried not to remember the tender, commanding pressure of his hand on the back of my head as his tongue fucked Benji’s cum between my lips. Fooling around with Benji feels sweet and natural, but Colson is a freak hurricane coming in from nowhere to rip me apart.
His voice gets lower. “Maybe I stalk you because I like to watch stubborn little boys self-destruct.”
“You’re jealous,” I taunt softly. “You wish you had passion for anything in your boring life the way Benji and I do.”
“Shut up.” His thumb roughly swipes the remains of tears off my cheek. With that point of contact to orient us, our mouths find each other. His five o’clock shadow scrapes my chin as our tongues slide back together like a relief in slow, hungry thrusts.
“This is not happening again,” he demands when we break apart, our foreheads resting together.
“I know,” I growl.
His fingertips explore my skin in the dark, tilting my chin up so he can brush his nose along the same spot he marked me. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Before I finish the sentence, we’re kissing a second time and then a third, without tongue, which somehow feels even more dangerous. Part of me wonders if I’m somehow cheating on Benji, but I can’t begin to understand the tangled mess the three of us have made.
“That’s it.” Colson rests a warning hand on my chest.
“One more.” I sound exactly like Benji now. What the fuck is wrong with us?
He doesn’t answer, but his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt and wrap around my bare hips, dragging me closer until our bodies are pressed together. It’s the longest, most painstaking kiss I’ve ever had. Partway through, his hands push down the back of my shorts and knead firm handfuls of my ass. All our movements are starved, like we’re both trying to take everything and give nothing back.
I yelp into his mouth, jerking back as agony lances through my hurt hand. It’s too dark to see the damage, but when I flex my fingers I can tell it’s swollen and stiffening up.
“What did you do?” Colson tries to touch it, but I pull away with a protesting sound.
“I punched my car.”
“God you’re a disaster.” His big hand envelops the back of my neck and holds me still as he presses his nose to my ear. “Listen to me,” he murmurs quietly enough to send a shiver down my back. “You know this situation with your father isn’t stable. If someone is digging up old history, you can’t go ahead with the announcement. Please.”
I’ve never heard him saypleaseto anyone, or sound so absolutely genuine. He doesn’t realize I’ve just become surer of my decision than before. If I don’t fight back, if I don’t reclaim the things my father took, then I’ll forever be a boy floating in the middle of the ocean, waiting to drown.
“I’m sorry.” My nose brushes his hair. Since I’m collecting scents tonight, his hair smells like oranges. “All you can do is decide if you’re going to help me or get out of the way.”
He sits back with a sigh, then gets to his feet and brushes sand off his jeans, silhouetted against the weak light from the parking lot. “I can’t help you, even if I wanted to. I’m a prosecuting attorney, not a publicist or a legal advisor.”
“Ethan told me who you are.” Shivering and woozy with pain, I struggle upright. “All I ever wanted was someone to say he’s my lawyer and stand by me when I’m making my public statement, just so people think I have someone in my corner.” I laugh weakly. “Anything to make me look less like prey. But it’s fine, I’ll figure it out.”
Colson turns away with a noncommittal grunt. I keep stumbling over things as I follow him back across the uneven ground to the car park. A stunning green 911 is parked a couple of spots away from my hybrid, the only two cars around. I still can’t grasp the idea that he got out of bed and drove all the way here.
He doesn’t seem interested in talking anymore, so I get into my car without looking back and study my hand, wondering if I need to go to the hospital. It might look like a black and blue balloon tomorrow, but I don’t think it’s broken. I jump so hard I almost hit my head when someone bangs on my window. Colson twirls his finger aggressively, so I roll it down a tiny crack, just to annoy him more.
“Text me the time and address of your announcement.” He sounds pissed, and he won’t look at me. “And put some ice on that thing before it gets to be the size of a ham.”