Page 27 of Just a Little Crush
I study his face, his long eyelashes. I hunt for the little scar above his eyebrow, a memento from when he ran into a goalpost in primary school. Stubble creeps in across his jaw, and I count the tiny lines on his full lips. He looks pretty damn cute when he’s asleep. I take it all in while I have the chance.
This is the strangest feeling. Me being here, in Rennie’s bed, cocooned in the covers while he’s stayed on top of them all night. I don’t know if that’s for my benefit, a show of respect, or if he just doesn’t want to be as close to me as I’d like. I wish he was under here with me so I could touch him, press my face into his chest, run my hands over his muscles, loop our legs together and grind myself against one of those delicious, firm thighs. All those orgasms he gave me last night have done nothing to slake my thirst for him. If anything, I want more, but all I have to go on are a few things said in the heat of the moment. I don’t know what he wants at all.
I watch as his lips twitch and his brows knit together. I wonder if he’s dreaming, and what about.
“No,” he grunts in his sleep. His head moves back and forth, followed by more unintelligible grumbles. Eyes still closed, he tightens his grip and pulls me closer.
“Rennie,” I whisper, not sure if he’s still asleep. “Are you OK?”
His eyes squeeze together for a few seconds.“Bad dream,” he says, blinking it away. I keep watching him as he crosses back into the land of the living. When his eyes open and meet mine, the sweetest smile spreads across his face.
“You’re here,” he moans, then breathes a sigh heavy with something like relief. I nod and smile when he lifts my arm and rests it gently above the waistband of his boxers. I flex my fingers. His skin is warm and smooth and I want to stroke it, but my bladder is screaming for my attention.
“I need the loo,” I whisper.
“OK, do you need help?” he asks.
“No, I’ll manage. Just keep your eyes closed, I’m only half dressed.”
His warm hand finds me under the covers, smooths across my back, and down over my hips to give me a good squeeze. “Mmm, I love this bum.”
I shimmy out of his arms and manage to sit up then reach down for the clothes he abandoned last night. I wriggle back into my pyjama shorts and glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s not sneaking a peek, but of course he’s not. Even after spending god knows how long with his hands on me last night, he’s respectful.
“Hurry back,” he mumbles, and my stomach flips.
I half hop, half hobble to the bathroom to freshen up. After a quick slug of mouthwash, I attempt to wrangle my hair back into a bun, but it keeps catching on this stupid wrist guard. I’m taking this off today, I’m sick of it. In the end, I just let my hair down and rake my fingers through it, hoping it doesn’t look too wild.
I climb back into his bed, but a minute away from Rennie is all it took for the mist of doubt to descend. It feels needy to slide back into his arms, so I sit upright in the space next to him. I don’t want to do this, the awkward morning after thing. What must he think of me, begging him to touch me like that? I know we can’t avoid it, not while I’m stuck staying at his house.
Beside me, Rennie stretches out, arching his back and giving me a perfect view of his muscles springing into action. A smattering of hair covers his chest, trailing down the centre of his stomach and beyond.
I’ve snuck glances at topless Rennie when I’ve bumped into him at the pool, or when he’s run past the shop on a hot day, his sweat-soaked t-shirt hanging from his back pocket, but I’ve never been treated to a private show like this.
The calendar the station crew made to raise funds for new playground equipment doesn’t count. The whole thing was a big joke, but I can’t pretend I wasn’t pleased to discover that the black-and-white photo of Rennie standing under the spray of water in tiny, tight boxer shorts fell on my birthday month. Getting to stare at him for 31 days was the best gift I’ve ever received.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
Ooft, what a question.“Um, awkward, embarrassed, mildly ashamed.”Good one, Bec, you could have just said “fine”.
“I meant physically.”
Jesus christ.My libido sparks back to life, though I’m not sure it ever fully died down. How does he always set me on edge with so few words? “Oh, well, er, yeah, pretty good in that department.”
He bites his lip to stifle his laugh. “I meant your wrist, your leg, your injuries.” He rolls to face me, propping his head up on his hand and quirks one eyebrow. “Though I’m glad to hear you’re satisfied.”
Gah, so flirty I might die.
“Oh god,” I pull the covers up and bury my face. “I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Pillow talk. Post match analysis. Whatever this is.”
Rennie tugs the edge down to expose my eyes, my shame. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” His fingers reach up, lifting a lock of hair from where it hangs over my forehead. My eyes follow his as he watches it twist around his finger before he tucks it behind my ear. I’m speechless under his gaze. To have him this close, touching me, after what we did last night? I’m barely convinced it’s real.
“Well, I’m starving,” he says, bouncing upright with far more energy that I could muster. “Someone distracted me and I didn’t even eat dinner last night.”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—“
