On the Fence

He kneed the ball in a high arc and it landed on the end of my bed. “Gage isn’t here, and I want you.”

I couldn’t stop my cheeks from blushing this time. He needed to watch his phrasing. He didn’t seem to notice, because he added, “Come on. Please.” He went to my closet and pulled out my shoes.

“I’m fine, Braden. I don’t need cheering up. I promise.”

He sat on the bed next to me, pushing my hair into my face. “Why would you need cheering up? Did something happen?”

He hadn’t heard? I smacked his hands away and pushed my hair back. “Nothing I want to rehash right now.”

“Well, see, I’m not here to cheer you up. I’m here for completely selfish reasons.” He held out his hand and gave me puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t make me beg.”

I kind of wanted to see him beg. I stared at his hand. He kept it steady, hovering in the air between us. I took it.

Chapter 35

I couldn’t decide if Braden had heard about what happened or not, but either way, he had to know that running up a field, kicking a soccer ball, could get my mind off anything. Well, almost anything. It seemed that kicking a ball alongside Braden could not get my mind off him. As we ran, I shoved him and stole the ball.

“Foul,” he said with a laugh.

“If you can catch me, I’ll give you that foul.”

I dribbled the ball faster, toward the net. I could feel him getting closer. Just as I came to the goal, he caught up and wrapped one arm around my waist, dragging me to a halt. Then he spun me away from the ball, let go, and took the ball back. I jumped onto his back.

“Give it up, Lewis.”

“You think this is going to keep me from scoring?” He gripped my thighs with his hands, keeping me from jumping off, and continued to dribble the ball.

“Let me down.”

“You’re the one who jumped up there.”

“Don’t make me bite you.” I opened my mouth and pressed my teeth lightly against his neck.

He slowed to a stop. “You wouldn’t dare, cheater.”

“I totally would.” My words came out slurred against his neck, and I added a little more pressure to my bite. I shouldn’t have started this game; it was making my heart race, feeling his skin against my lips, tasting salt.

“Charles,” he warned in a low voice.

I laughed. “You just have to let go of my legs.”

He let go, and I gave him a playful bite anyway and jumped down, ready to take off after the ball. But he immediately grabbed me and pulled me against him. “You brat.”

I laughed. “You’re going down.” I used one of my legs to sweep his. He stumbled, but didn’t let go of me like I thought he would, and we both fell to the ground. He rolled so I was pinned beneath one of his h*ps and his right arm.

“You shouldn’t be able to knock me down so easily. You’re amazingly strong, you know that? It’s awesome.”

I froze, my entire body on fire. I knew if I moved an inch, it would only increase the sensation running through me from his points of contact on me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, suddenly serious. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, just let me up.”

At first he looked confused, then a slow smile spread across his lips. “Why?”

“You won. Just let me up.”

“I won? You just conceded? Has that ever happened in the history of time?”

“Yes. You won. Braden. Please.” I was out of breath and my voice sounded tight.

“But I owe you one bite.” He lowered his head to my neck. My heart beat against my ribs. “It’s only fair.”

Yes, this was the definition of torture. If he knew what this was doing to me, he couldn’t possibly continue.

His teeth brushed lightly against my skin and his breath warmed my neck. My fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Just get it over with,” I breathed.

He let out a low, breathy chuckle and then applied slightly more pressure to his bite. I barely contained the moan in the back of my throat, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from closing.

He lifted his head. “I need to tell you something.”

My eyes flew open and met his.

My guard immediately went back up. He was going to tell me about my mom. Little did he know, I had already heard. I wondered if it would’ve been better if Braden had been the one to tell me at the fence that night. Would it have been less devastating? Probably not. Either way, it was too late now, and I really didn’t feel like talking about it. “I already know.”

“You do?”

“Yes. My dad told me.”

“Your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Gage,” he growled, then rolled onto his back, finally freeing me. “Does he want to kill me?”

My whole body felt cold without him near me. “No. Why would he? It’s not your fault.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean he’d want me to tell you.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me. That it wasn’t your place.” My eyes started to sting, and I just wanted to stand up and kick the ball again.

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You first.”

“I know about my mom.”

He took a quick breath and sat up to his knees. Concern shaped his brow. “Your dad told you about your mom . . . about how she . . .”

“Yes.” I dragged the back of my hand along my cheek and shivered.

He stretched himself out beside me again and pulled me close. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you knew. And I didn’t want to think about it.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want to go home?”

I shook my head and buried my face in his chest. I didn’t want to go anywhere. “So that’s not what you were going to tell me?”

“No. I mean that’s what I wanted to tell you that night by the fence before I realized it wasn’t my place to tell you. Maybe I should’ve told you then. Maybe I should’ve told you years ago. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re the one who made me confront my dad.” I pulled back so I could look in his eyes. “So what, then? What were you going to tell me today?”

“The timing is wrong now. I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Please. I want to know now. I’m tired of secrets.”