Page 21 of Forging Legacy

I shrug. “I like you. We’re friends. I think?”

His lips tip up in a small smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

He burrows back into my shoulder, and I stroke his hair some more. “What were you going to do tonight? Before you came here, I mean?”

I smile against the top of his head. “I was drinking a milkshake, and then I’d probably read.”

His voice is muffled against my shoulder. “What flavor milkshake?”

I laugh and swat at him. “It was hazelnut with little chunks of pretzel. And cherries, of course.”

“You’re into cherries.”

I shrug against him. “I guess so. Sometimes.”

I like this cuddly side of him, even as I begin to remember that he is off-limits in this regard. But my urge to help him overpowers my doubts, so I ask, “Want me to read to you since I’m here?”

He pulls back, meeting my eye. “That would be amazing.”

“Yeah?” He’s unexpectedly enthusiastic, so I disentangle myself from him and crawl toward his bookshelf, studying the spines. “Is that Megan Rapinoe’s memoir?”

He stretches out on his back, grinning. “Yeah. I love that one. I know she has a version for adults, but that one’s signed.”

My jaw drops. “Seriously?” I glance inside the cover, where I see the book is indeed signed and personalized. “Well, we have to read this one, I guess.” He nods, and I crawl back to him, sliding under his head so it’s on my lap as I open the book. I begin to read, brushing his hair off his forehead with one hand while I recount young Megan’s struggles with teachers who didn’t like her, with anger she wasn’t sure how to contain until she got a soccer ball at her feet.

Each time I glance down, Wyatt’s eyes are closed, and I worry he’s asleep until he grunts in laughter at the Rapinoe tradition of cleaning out the fridge. “Leftovers don’t exist in this apartment, either,” he tells me. He waves a hand toward the door. “Those monsters eat everything. Everything.”

I close the book and set it aside. “My mom and I eat a pot of soup for like an entire week. It’s just us.”

He smiles. “Some pros and cons to both those refrigerators, I guess.”

I feel warm, happy, and relaxed. I know a crisis for him brought me here, but even if it’s forbidden, I'm glad to be right where I am.

“Where were you tonight? Other than milkshakes?”

I glance down at him, and I can’t contain the smile that tugs at my mouth. “I was celebrating.” He raises his brows, questioning. “I got into my grad program … with funding.”

Wyatt draws back, grinning. “That’s incredible, Fern. You rock.”

A flush builds from my core to the tips of my ears. “It feels pretty damn good.”

His gaze heats, and he sits up. “Did you feel all celebrated out? Cuz I can think of some pretty good additions to your milkshake experience.”

He licks his lips and snakes a palm onto my hip, tugging me tight against him. I inhale sharply, feeling him fully erect, hard and hot.

I glance down at his sweats, noting the outline bulging between us. “A celebration, hm?”

He nods, splaying his long fingers wider against my butt, digging in and squeezing. “Are you interested in that?”

I close my eyes. “Nobody will know?”

He looks over his shoulder toward his bedroom door. There isn’t a sound from outside the door, not even the video game. I have no idea what time it is or how long we’ve been in here. “They’re not going to tell anyone, trust me,” Wyatt says with a small smile. “We know better than to blab about who goes in and out of the bedrooms here.”

I lick my lips and, rather than prolong the conversation, lean forward to kiss him.

He’s familiar and exceptional, warm lips pressing against mine while a tiny moan escapes his throat. I love the feel of it, the sound of his wanting. I rock my hips against him as his hand stays on my ass like all he wants in the world is to feel me pressed into his crotch.

“Fern,” he whispers and sucks on my tongue, sending spirals of sparks along my spine. I nibble on his lower lip and explore his mouth with my own tongue, wriggling until my nipples feel the friction against his chest.

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