And I’m…the right girl? I’m too scared to ask the question out loud because I’m afraid of the answer. I know what I want it to be but I’m too chicken to reach out for it. But I want to. Holy hell, do I want to.

“So are we done?” I ask in a tiny voice.

“No.” He sighs and then releases a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not done. Are you?”

“No.”

His eyes close in what looks like relief.

“Okay, then.” He pulls open the door and I still follow him because I’m not prepared for him to go. “I’m not into games between us. I want you. Badly. I know you want me too but it’s more than sex for me. When you work that out, it’ll be amazing. I’m willing to wait. I’m really good at waiting.”

I shiver at the thought of what all he’s good at. He starts walking away and I hate that he’s leaving without me giving him something.

“Wait,” I call. He turns back. “Thank you. It was…incredible.”

The side of his mouth curls up in a half smile. “Yeah?”

I give him a little more encouragement. “The best ever.”

He stalks back and presses me against the wall by to the open apartment door.

“Me, too, baby.” He grips me behind my neck and I’m lost the moment his lips meet mine.

I hear sounds around us, people coming and going, but neither of us pay any attention to that. There’s only him and me and the vortex of feeling he creates between us with the mere press of his mouth. Okay, and his big body muscling me up against the wall. There’s that, too. I sneak a hand between us and grip him tightly. He freezes and groans into my mouth, and the sound makes me vibrate from the inside out.

But he doesn’t fall back into the apartment. He collects himself, inch by inch, and then steps away from me.

“Come inside?” I whisper.

“Not tonight.” He shakes his head and the sting of rejection is slightly offset by his obvious regret.

Because I can’t help myself, I ask, “Why not tonight?”

“You’re not ready.”

“And when do you think I’ll be ready?” I put my hands on my hips in exasperation.

He palms my cheek. I swear I can I still feel his mouth between my legs.

“You can start by calling me Knox.”

21 Ellie

“So that’s Knox Masters.” Riley watches as I slam the door shut.

“Yes.”

“Wow. He was all over you. I thought he would unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole in the hall. Half the floor raced to get their cameras to make amateur porn.”

“I know.” I stomp into my bedroom and throw myself face first on the mattress. I feel like banging my feet and hands against the surface. I keep seeing him and his big hand and his dick. I feel his rough jaw between my legs and the glorious orgasms he drew out of me. I then I hear him say I’m not ready. Where does he get off saying I’m not ready. I’m totally ready. I don’t think I have ever been more ready. My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache.

I feel empty. Like there is a Knox-shaped void inside of me.

“Is Masters really a virgin?” Riley asks curiously.

“He says he is.”

“He looked like he wanted to lose it to you. What happened?”

I press a finger against my temple. “I called him by the wrong name.”

“Like another guy’s name?” she gasps.

“No, his last name.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t get it. I roll over.

“He thinks it’s my way of saying that sex between us would be meaningless.”

“Is he right? Are you using his last name to create emotional distance?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. He accused me of just wanting sex, as if that’s a bad thing,” I try to joke.

Riley doesn’t laugh. “He obviously thinks you’re special if he wants to sleep with you.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

“Is all you feel for him physical? Like you want to nail him and be done. Or I guess be nailed by him.”

“No.” My gut clenches at the thought of him taking up any number of the offers available to him. I’m not stupid. I know what it’s like for these players. Even at the junior college, when it became apparent that Jack would move to a bigger, better program, the girls flocked to him. Masters could have anyone on campus by snapping his fingers. I don’t want him with anyone else. “I like him,” I admit. “He’s a terrific person and—” I choke. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“No one does,” she says softly.

“Riley, I can’t replay this with you right now, because I’m so damned confused. Could we possibly table this discussion until tomorrow when I’m cogent and not completely flustered from what happened outside our apartment door?”

“We can. We absolutely can.”

“Bless you.”

The rest of the night is terrible. I don't spend even one solid minute sleeping. Every time close my eyes I see him, dick in hand. I hear the thud as his knees hit the floor and then the cool air followed by his hot breath when he pulls down my panties. My entire body is one big throbbing ache.

The three guys I've had sex with have been okay, but I have never, ever been so turned on. And what does Masters do? He walks away.

I don’t even care that I’m witnessing some extraordinary discipline and what it could mean in the sack. I’m wired and pissed off.

I rub myself, but the relief I get is fleeting. My only solace—and it’s a small one—is that he has to be in as much pain as I am.

“Didn’t sleep well,” Riley notes in the morning. I’m eating her chocolate-covered cereal. It seemed like the right thing to do when I got up frustrated, horny, and upset.

“No. I wish you actually had a high-powered vibrator in your room instead of the sewing machine. I can’t hump that, can I?”

She stares at me wide-eyed and a little fearful. “Um, no. Please don’t do that to my sewing machine.”

I close my eyes and try to gather a little patience. “I’m not, but God, I’d like to punch him in the nuts.”

“I thought you wanted those nuts to do something to you.”

I wave my hand. “I can't even with him.”

“Or odd?” she jokes.

“This is how terrible he is,” I huff. “He’s driven me to using Tumblr words in real life.”

“You should seduce him. He's clearly interested. Put on a sexy dress and make sure he can’t say no.”

I set down my fork. “Riley, you are a fucking genius. I’ll do it after the game on Sunday.”

“Why wait?”

“He’ll be more susceptible after the game. They have so much adrenaline from a win and they need to expend it somewhere.” I grin wickedly at her.

She laughs. “And that somewhere is all over you?”

“Exactly.”

Masters wants me. That much I do know. I need to convince him to let go. And remember to call him Knox.

Masters—I mean Knox—texts me during the sociology class.

Knox: You mad at me?

Me: Why would I be mad?

Knox: So, really mad.

Me: No idea what you’re talking about. Good luck on the game this weekend.

Knox: Is this your way of saying I’m not seeing you this week?

Me: You’re so bright.

Knox: I do have your schedule now…

Me: I can report you to campus police.

Knox: I’ll see you next week.

Me: Or after the game.

Knox: Keep talking.

Me: After you win this week. Maybe I’ll see you around.

Knox: All right.

22 Knox

Post Game: Warriors 2-0

It's standing room only at The Gas Station by the time Matty, Hammer, and I roll in. Two games down and ten to go. We cheerfully accept the back slaps and high fives as we navigate our way to the bar. This time we deserve the congratulations. The team fired on all cylinders. We played fantastic defense, getting four sacks, generating two fumbles. Campbell caught two touchdown passes. Ace threw the ball like Peyton Manning.