Hefty Read online

  I know I should be grateful for the time we had together. It was more than I ever expected. Better than I ever dreamed. Worth feeling like I’ve had my heart ripped out through my mouth. But Jesus, I miss her so much. Not just her body and the privilege of touching her, but the way she used to look at me with so much trust. If all else failed, at least I had that. Her faith that I’d always be there, always rescue her. Now it feels like I have nothing.

  For the millionth time in an hour, the scene in the school hallway replays behind my eyelids. The way she smiled up at Miguel, right before he asked to her homecoming.

  Of course she accepted, though I didn’t stick around to hear her answer.

  Of course she did.

  Her association with me caused people to laugh at her in the hallway. Did I think she’d want to go anywhere with me after that? Especially a school dance?

  I’d definitely have to gain a few pounds.

  Just knowing she heard that comment makes my throat close up. Why? My size has never been a secret. She didn’t magically forget. It’s probably part of the reason I was so safe for her. She didn’t have to feel self-conscious around someone twice her size.

  Honestly, that doesn’t seem like Jill at all, but then again, I never expected her to cut me off, begin completely ignoring me over a few wisecracks in the hallway. If she’d talk to me, I would apologize for bringing her that kind of negative attention. It’s the very thing I wanted to avoid. I’m supposed to protect her.

  With a gulp, I shove to my feet and throw open my closet looking at the garment bag hanging in the corner. The tuxedo I rented Monday night, hours after she gave me her virginity. I must have been fucking delusional practicing how I was going to ask her in the rearview mirror of my truck the next morning.

  A movement of color outside captures my attention.

  It’s the girls outside in their dresses, greeting the guys as they arrive, and I can’t help but drift toward the window, starved for the sight of Jill. I’m already in hell, might as well descend even deeper by seeing her with Miguel.

  After a few seconds of searching for her blonde hair with no results, I frown.

  Where is she?

  Still in the house?

  I hesitate only a moment before leaving my bedroom and searching the rooms, just to make sure she’s okay. But she’s nowhere. And my pulse starts to spike, bolts tightening on either side of my neck.

  Harper sticks her head back in through the open front door to grab her keys off the entry table and I stomp toward her. “Hey. Where is Jill? I don’t see her outside.”

  My sister blinks. “She’s not coming.”

  “Why? Where is she meeting Miguel?”

  “She’s not. She turned him down gently.” Harper looks in the mirror and pokes at her hair. “Miguel is going with someone else.”

  “What?” Confusion grips me, along with a deep sense of foreboding. “Are you telling me Jill isn’t going to the dance at all?”

  “Yes. That is what I’m telling you.”

  No. No, that’s not right. Jill is supposed to be at homecoming. She’s even on the ballot for homecoming queen, as she should be. Dressing up and dancing and being with her friends…those are things she’s supposed to experience, even if they’re not with me.

  Even if it kills me.

  “Why?” I rasp, shaking my head. “I don’t understand.”

  Something in my tone causes Harper to look over sharply. Her expression turns sympathetic and a little indecisive. And that sense of foreboding triples, making my palms sweat. “Zach…” She sighs, firms her shoulders. “Seriously. How do you not know that Jill has been in love with you since we were kids?”

  My heart holds its beats. No way I heard that right. “No. That can’t be true.”

  “Oh no? Think about it. Have you seen her date anyone? Do you think people just haven’t been asking out the drop-dead gorgeous cheerleader?” My sister throws up her hands. “She was waiting for you.”

  A blade drives into the center of my chest.

  I’m suddenly standing on shifting sand, my legs unstable.

  Jill Harding? In love with me?

  “She told me you guys kissed, you know.” Harper runs a finger under her eye, fixing her makeup. “She was so excited. Thought maybe you were starting to have feelings for her.”

  “Starting to?” I claw at my throat, trying to relieve the terrible crowding sensation. “Goddammit. Why are you only telling me this now?”

  Harper shrugs. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you felt the same way about her. You play everything so close to the vest. She’s my best friend and I didn’t want to risk making things awkward for no reason.” She raises an eyebrow. “Do you feel the same way about Jill?”

  I plant my hands on my knees, doubled over from the repeated blows. “I’ve loved her my whole fucking life.”

  “Oh,” Harper breathes, stricken. “I’m sorry, Zach.”

  Every single smile Jill has ever given me suddenly looks different. Now instead of just seeing a sweet girl being friendly to the big boy, I see the hope in her eyes. I see her knuckles turning white around her backpack straps and her stuttering my name. I see her running to catch up with me after football games when she could have been with her popular friends.

  And I want to die.

  I want to fucking die.

  How many times have I walked away from that offering of more, leaving her disappointed? Christ. My windpipe is being crushed in a vise.

  “Did I…lose her?” I choke out.

  Harper hesitates. “I don’t know.”

  The uncertainty unbalances me more, but the stakes are too high here to lie down and give up. So I stumble blindly for my room and pull the garment bag out of the closet.

  8

  Jill

  I roll over and face the wall, wailing pitifully into my pillow.

  Pretty much what I’ve done every night this week, but I can’t help but shed a few extra tears tonight for homecoming. What a magical night it might have been if Zach asked me to go. Although I would be just as happy to share a Coke with him in the school cafeteria at this point. I miss him so much, I can’t eat or sleep. Sure, I’ve been seeing him at school, but it hurts just to be in his presence knowing he doesn’t want me.

  My bedroom door opens and I know it’s my mother again, probably leaving a plate of food. I wish she wouldn’t bother, I hate being wasteful and I can’t manage to choke a bite down without bursting into waterworks.

  “Mom, I’m still not hungry,” I say, my voice thick with tears.

  “Jill,” she says hesitantly. “Get dressed, there’s someone—”

  “Get dressed for what?” I pull the fluffy sides of my robe up over my face. And I know I’m being completely dramatic, but my heart is in nine million pieces and I haven’t slept well in a week. I’m delirious and inconsolable and I can’t help it. “He doesn’t want to go with me. He doesn’t even like me! I’m just his sister’s airhead friend.”

  “Jill…” my mother prompts again.

  “Why does he have to be so beautiful?” I roll over onto my stomach and release a torrent of tears into the pillow. “Why do I have to love him so much? It hurts so bad.”

  My bedroom door closes and I cry all the harder for being deserted by my own mother.

  Or at least I think she’s deserted me, until my mattress dips under her weight.

  It dips a lot, though.

  Enough that I roll onto my side and peek out from behind the lapels of my robe…

  And there’s Zach, lying on his side next to me.

  In a tuxedo.

  My breath comes to a standstill inside my lungs. But it’s not the first time I’ve imagined this happening. Zach has never looked at me like this, either. With his heart in his eyes. It’s just my exhausted brain playing tricks on me. “You’re not really here,” I whisper.

  “Yes, I am.”

  I shake my head.

  “Please stop crying, Jilly Beans,” he says hoarsely.

  “Can’t.”

  “How am I going to take you to homecoming if you don’t stop?”

  “You can’t take me because I’m imagining you.”

  Zach’s rocky exhale drifts over my face and I frown. That’s definitely the first time one of my fantasies has included sensory features. And I’m still marveling over it when Zach scoots closer on the bed, until we’re right up against each other.

  He takes my hand and places it over his heart.

  I gasp at the way it flies, seemingly at a thousand beats per minute, slamming up into my palm as if it wants to exit his chest.

  He’s here. He’s really in my bedroom. In a tux.

  “I’m so sorry, Jill.” His voice catches. “I’m so sorry. Jesus, you just said…you called me beautiful? And said you love me? Please understand. I never, ever could have believed that, Jill. I’ve always known you were out of my league. You are. I’ve known it since we met and…by keeping you at a distance, I think I was protecting myself from too much pain. Living without being yours was painful enough already. And I fucked up. I fucked up. I was hurting you all along, wasn’t I? I’ll never forgive myself for that, baby. I’m not supposed to hurt you.”

  This is really happening. He’s really saying these words.

  My heart is beating in my throat, the tears in my eyes causing his image to swarm. “I do love you. I meant that. It feels like it’s going to burst out of me all the time.”

  His eyelids drift shut. “I’m never going to get used to you saying things like that. God.” His throat works, those green eyes capturing me once again. “If I ever hear you call yourself an airhead again, Jill, I swear to Christ. Don’t talk about the girl I love like that.”

  “You love me?” I whisper, a warm tingle racing up my spine.

  He turns my hand over, palm up. “You’ve been holding my heart right here all along. Didn’t you feel it bleeding for you?”

  “No,” I sob.

  A sheen spreads in his eyes. “Do you feel it now?”

  Yes. I do feel it. All the walls are down between us and there’s no mystery left. He’s looking at me like I’m the center of his universe and I know I’m looking back at him the same way. There’s a promise in his eyes that this is the beginning of something that doesn’t have an end. “Yes.” I slide my arms around his neck and snuggle into his body. “I feel it.”

  Zach draws me in closer and holds me tight, like he’s afraid I’ll fly away, but I only want to get closer. And there’s nothing to stop me. No doubts or unknowns. So I wrap a leg around his hip, offering him my mouth and he takes it hungrily, no hesitation. After four days of no contact, we’re frantic to reacquaint our tongues, stroking them together, moaning over the slick friction, the smooth slide of our lips.

  It’s only a matter of seconds before Zach rolls me onto my back, his big hips crowding between my thighs. He’s in a tux and I’m in a short robe, and the contrast of that makes my pulse spike. “Missed you so much, baby,” he mutters in between kisses. “Thought I was going to die without you.”

  “Me too.” I kiss his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. “Me too.”

  We realize at the same moment that my robe has unbelted. I took a shower a couple of hours ago and immediately lay down to feel bad for myself, so I’m not wearing a bra or panties, meaning I’m completely naked in the lamplight. I could already feel Zach’s erection against my inner thigh, but it lengthens now, turning harder, thicker. His expression is reverent, his fingertips tracing a circle around my left nipple, groaning when it tightens into a spike. “We can’t.” He drops his mouth to my breast, licking the peak and shivering. “Your mother could walk in here any second.”

  “Lock the door,” I breathe, arching my back enticingly.

  “Jill.” His tone holds a warning. “I’m your boyfriend now. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your parents. They could restrict me from seeing you.”

  All of this makes total sense, but my body isn’t letting me be logical. All I know is the man of my dreams is in my bed, I’m naked, and miracle of miracles, he just called himself my boyfriend. “But I want to feel you inside me. Please?” I bite my lip. “Just a little?”

  Zach bites off a growl. “Jill, you know if I get the tip in, you’re getting the whole cock.”

  His guttural speech makes me blush and I think in that moment, we both know resisting is pointless. Zach curses and climbs off the bed, turning the lock. Before he can get back into bed with me, I sit up, stopping him. “Wait,” I whisper. “Can you…take your jacket and shirt off? I want to see you.”

  The two times things have gotten physical between us, he’s always been fully clothed, but I crave the sight of his skin. Want to know if he has hair on his chest, a happy trail, even the color of his nipples.

  Zach hesitates, though, and my throat constricts.

  I walk toward the edge of the bed on my knees, shedding the robe behind me. I hold his eyes with mine as I remove his bow tie, laying it on the bed. Next I push the jacket off his shoulders and start on the buttons of his white dress shirt. He clears his throat and looks away, the tips of his ears deepening in color, but occasionally he glances at my face, as if to determine my reaction to the thick chest and hefty belly I’m slowly revealing.

  Finally, all of the buttons are undone and I push open the shirt.

  He’s a God. A meaty, broad-shouldered, masculine king. His belly protrudes out over his belt buckle, hair curling in a dark trail leading into his pants. His nipples are a beautiful tan, his arms like big, protecting cannons. And he towers over me, powerful and huge and mine.

  “Zach,” I whisper, trailing a finger down between his pecs. “You’re so sexy.”

  He starts to deny it, but then he notices I’m trembling. Notices I can barely breathe and goose bumps are rising on every inch of my skin. “Jill?”

  “You’re mine,” I say, palming my breasts. Squeezing. “I want everyone to know.”

  A few beats pass. “Christ.” He shakes his head. “I really do make you hot.”

  My response is to take his hand and guide it between my thighs, encouraging him without words to delve his fingers into my folds and he does. They come away drenched and he curses, heat flaring in his expression. And right before my eyes, his confidence grows. The red fades from the tips of his ears and his shoulders go back. If possible, he’s even sexier than before and I didn’t think that was possible.

  Before I can guess his intention, he grips my knees and tugs—hard—causing me to flop backward onto the mattress. Naked in front of his eyes. At first, when he goes down on his knees, I’m not sure what he’s doing, but then I’m being yanked to the very edge of the bed and his tongue is riding up the center of my sex, wet and stiff and determined. I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. And I have to keep it there, because Zach goes at me like a man possessed, licking and sucking me, rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb, growling when my body releases more wetness, lapping it up eagerly.

  “Zach,” I say in a muffled voice, my heels digging into his wide, muscular back. “Oh Jesus. Oh God. Oh God.”

  He catches my knees in his hands and pushes them out wide, focusing hard on my buzzing bundle of nerves. Placing gentle raspberries over the top of it, laving it roughly with the flat of his tongue, and all the while, he breathes heavily, like a starved man devouring a feast. I can barely stand the pressure of my building orgasm. It’s monumental. Twisting me up.

  My hips rear up off the bed, but he pins me down with a forearm and continues to exploit the rush of sensations, doggedly, daring me not to come. And the final straw is when our eyes lock. His tongue is out, flexing against my sex—and the world explodes. I scream into my hand and it’s too loud, I know it’s too loud. We could get caught, but Zach is suddenly on top of me, covering my mouth with his own hand, his other one stroking me through the climax. “Goddamn, baby. You are so fucking hot when you come.” When he determines I’m finished screaming, his hand leaves my mouth, traveling down to his zipper. Lowering it and releasing his straining shaft. “You’re hot when you take this, too, huh?”

  Crudely, he fills me with his erection, every giant inch.

  My drenched flesh accepts him impatiently, welcoming him with a hard clench.

  His mouth lands on mine, muffling my whimpers, and I pray my mother is downstairs, because if she’s out in the hall—or anywhere upstairs—she definitely hears what’s going on in this bedroom. Thinking we could be quiet was a pipe dream. We’re too worked up, too desperate, too horny.

  Especially when Zach starts to thrust and my bedsprings creak, creak, creak.

  “Fuck,” he says through clenched teeth. “We’re going to get caught.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re so tight, baby,” he pants. “I can’t stop.”

  The knob on my bedroom door jiggles and we freeze, Zach’s sex pulsing inside of me.

  “Jill?” calls my mother, suspicion lacing her tone.

  I struggle to make my voice sound normal, but it’s next to impossible because Zach is grinding into my slowly, his features contorted in pain. “Yes?”

  “What are you doing in there?”

  My pulse pounds in my temples. “Just talking.”

  Several seconds tick by. “Be downstairs in five minutes.”

  As soon as her footsteps echo down the hall, Zach is pulling me off the creaky bed onto the rug, which thankfully makes no sound at all. Intuition has me bending over on my hands and knees, but Zack lies down on his back, plucking me up by the waist and settling me astride his hips, sweat shining at his hairline. Wild excitement grips me. Finally, Zach is mine for the taking, bare chested and beautiful. In need of relief. I take his stiffness in my hands and bring it between my thighs, sinking down until it fill me completely.

  “Oh my God,” he rasps, throwing his head back, his fingertips spearing into my hips. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of this.”

  Breathless, I start to move, working my hips up and back, fingers buried in my hair, enjoying his attention on my breasts, my undulating body. “Did you?” I purr. “Did you want me to come into your bedroom and ride you during all those sleepovers, Zach?”