Page 56 of Wicked Serve

“Yeah,” I say, focusing on his sternum. “No one else. Just you.”

I expect gloating, but instead, I get a scowl. “No one took care of you properly.”

“I’m grateful,” I admit. I almost stop there, but something pushes me to continue. Maybe if I open up more, eventually, he’ll do the same. More than that, I want to share this secret with him. “In high school, my boyfriend Chance, he... he made me feel like it was my fault that I couldn’t do it, that it was why he had to cheat on me with a bunch of other girls in our class.”

“Is he the guy who broke up with you on your birthday? He did that and he cheated on you?”

I nod. “I know it’s stupid.”

I don’t miss Chance, not even a little, but I gave so many firsts to him, and they weren’t even good firsts. If I could go back, I’d erase the entire relationship, start to finish. I offered him so much of myself, and he trampled it all. I was never enough for him, not in general and definitely not in bed, and he turned my trust into a joke.

Nik swears softly, his scar thrown into sharp relief by a stripe of moonlight. “I’m sorry.”

“We were together for ages. And then the night we were going to celebrate my seventeenth birthday, he stood me up. I found out that he had been cheating on me pretty much our whole relationship.” My heart lurches at the memory. “He has another girlfriend now, by the way. I guess it wasn’t that he couldn’t be faithful, he just didn’t want to try for me.”

“He’s a fucking asshole,” he says shortly. He pulls me even closer, tucking my head underneath his chin. “There’s no excuse for that.”

I drag my teeth across my lip. Tears prick my eyes, more out of embarrassment than sadness. I stopped crying over Chance long ago, but I haven’t gotten past the mortification of realizing my entire relationship was a lie.

“I guess. And when I got to college, I... I still couldn’t do it, no matter who I was with. Orgasm, I mean. I thought something was wrong with me. But I met you, and it’s been different.”

His fingers dig into my hip. Grounding me in this moment, in his bed. “You deserve to feel that good. To be taken care of.”

“Maybe.” My voice wobbles.

At least we’re in the dark. Like this, I can pretend there’s still plenty of distance between us.

He wipes away an errant tear. “Definitely, Isabelle.” His voice sounds so quiet, so serious, but then it takes on a more playful edge. “Where is this guy now?”

I squint at him. “Nik.”

“Just asking.”

“He goes to college in Indiana.”

Whenever I’m home on Long Island, I wonder if I’m going to cross paths with him. Fortunately, that hasn’t happened, but never say never. Part of me dreads holiday breaks for that reason. I have zero idea what I’d say to him if we were face-to-face. Probably nothing.

Nik makes a contemplative noise. “None of those guys realized how rough you need it, huh?”

“I didn’t even know. How’d you figure that out?”

“I just did what I wanted to do to you,” he murmurs against my ear. “What I imagined from the first moment I saw you.”

“Dirty,” I whisper back. “I can still feel you, I hope you know that.”

“Good,” he says, the weight in that one word making my belly clench. “I’d have failed if you couldn’t, sweetheart.”

Chapter 27

Izzy

It’s endlessly unfair that when men want to dress classily, they get to throw on tuxedos, whereas women have to deal with skirts and open-toed shoes. I’m freezing, bouncing in place despite the fact we finally made it from the sidewalk to the inside of the laser tag place. This silky black dress looks fantastic on me, and yes, I helped Cooper and Nik come up with this idea for the team formal, but I wasn’t thinking about the weather when I decided to go all Miss Congeniality. I spare Nik another glance. It’s also unfair that tuxedos do so much for guys. I haven’t stopped sneaking looks at him since he swung by the house earlier to set things up for the afterparty, and I’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact he’s done the same to me. He’s still looking at me now as he leans against the wall, ankles crossed, hands in his pockets. Grinning.

He could put James Bond to shame, especially with that scar. He has no business looking this hot or showing me so much attention, especially surrounded by the entire hockey team. It’s been a week since our conversation about Chance, and if anything, he’s taken it as permission to get bold. We nearly got caught in the pool locker room the other day, thanks to his insistence that one orgasm wasn’t nearly enough.

“Gentlemen,” Cooper says, clapping his hands together. “And your invited guests. Welcome to the team formal.”

“It’s... laser tag?” a skinny freshman I don’t recognize asks.

---