CH - 24 FITZ

Summer is in my bed. Not the season. The girl. The beautiful, topless girl

who just woke me up from a nap and told me she's tired of her fighting

her attraction to me.

I know there's more we need to talk about. I all but begged her not to go out

with Hunter earlier, and she'd still walked out the door. And I'm sure she has

questions for me, questions I'll undoubtedly have a difficult time answering. Not

because I don't want to, but because I'm scared to.

Summer scares me. She always has. She makes me want to open up, and

that's not a normal urge for me.

And speaking of urges, she unleashes a pretty basic one when she brings her

fingertips to my lips and gently strokes them.

I inch closer, doing everything in my power not to look at her tits. Don't get

me wrong—I'm dying to. But I'm about to offer her an out before this gets out

of hand, and if she takes it, I'd rather we stopped before I get too attached to

those tits.

"Are you sure?" I whisper.

"One hundred percent." A note of vulnerability enters her voice. "Are you?"

I can't stop a laugh from flying out.

Summer's entire body stiffens. "Are you kidd—"

"No," I say quickly, "I'm not laughing at you. I promise. It's just…am I

sure? Fuck, Summer, I jerk off to the thought of you every single day. I can't get

you out of my head, and it only got worse after you gave me a blowjob. Now I

jerk off twice a day."

She responds by kissing me senseless.

Yeah, neither of us is going to stop this. It's been a long time coming. A long

fucking time.

Our clothes come off. I'm not sure how or when, but suddenly I'm naked and

rolling on top of her, one leg sliding between both of hers, my lower body

grinding against her softness. Her mouth is fused to mine, and she lifts her hips,

shamelessly rubbing herself on my dick, straining to get closer.

My tongue prods the seam of her lips. She parts them on command, granting

me access. When I swirl my tongue over hers, she gives a desperate moan that

vibrates through my body. I chuckle and retreat, nibbling her full lower lip

before peppering kisses along her jaw.

When I reach her neck, she slants her head and my mouth latches onto her

flesh, sucking gently. She whimpers and rocks harder against me.

She tries to reach between us to grab my dick, but I gently swat her hands

away. "Nuh-uh," I murmur. "You're always the one making me feel good. It's

my turn."

And then I proceed to tease the living hell out of her. Forget drugs—you

want a real high? Suck on Summer's perfect tits. Kiss the surprisingly sensitive

spot right below her belly button and watch her hips arch as her pussy seeks the

heat of your cock.

My stubble scrapes the underside of one round, perky breast as I lick my way

back up to toy with her nipples some more. I spend an obscene amount of time

kissing and licking her, while she grabs my head to keep me in place. Ha. Like

I'm going anywhere. I suck one nipple hard enough to elicit a loud moan from

her lips, then flick my tongue in feather-light movements over each hard bud

until Summer's hips begin to thrash again.

"Fitz," she begs. "No more teasing. I need…"

I slide down and bury my face between her legs. "This what you need?" I

groan against her flesh.

Her ass shoots off the mattress.

Chuckling, I grasp her hips to steady her before teasing her with my tongue.

Every long, lazy lick summons from her a whimper or a moan or a breathy sigh.

When I push one finger inside, her inner muscles greedily clamp around it, and

the top of my dick nearly blows off. Oh man, she's amazingly tight. My brain

goes hazy as I capture her clit in my mouth and suck on it, while my finger

languidly moves inside her.

"Oh my God," she says in a choked voice. "Don't stop. I'm getting close—"

I stop.

"Why!" Summer wails.

I drag my tongue over my lips. Fuck, she's all I can taste. "Not yet," I say,

sitting up.

"What gives you the right to decide that?" she huffs. "It's my body, Colin!"

"It's my tongue," I say with a cheeky grin.

"I want to come."

"Don't we all."

"Arrrgghh!" Her cry of frustration triggers my laughter. "I hate you, you

know that?"

"No you don't."

"I'm going to die if I don't have an orgasm." Her tone is grave. "Like,

actually die. And then you'll have to explain to my father how my death

could've been prevented if only you'd finished going down on me. My father,

Fitz. Is that really what you want?"

I press my lips together to fight another wave of laughter. This girl is the

best. The goddamn best. "Tell you what," I say thickly. "Why don't we

compromise?" I open the bottom drawer of my nightstand and produce a

condom. "We can both come, and nobody has to die."

"Greatest idea ever."

She watches as I rise on my knees to suit up. I gaze down at her, and my

breath catches. Her cheeks are flushed, green eyes glittering with arousal, chest

heaving with every labored breath. I've never seen a sexier sight.

Her breathing gets choppier. "Why aren't you in me?"

Good question.

I lower my naked body over hers and slide into her in one achingly slow

stroke. Oh fuck. It's the best feeling in the world. It's…a sense of belonging I've

never felt before. And my chest expands in the strangest way when I look at

Summer and see the way she's looking at me in return.

I think she's feeling it, too.

The bedsprings squeak when I start to move. Slow, shallow thrusts, filling

her only to withdraw each time she tries to pull me in deeper.

"More," she begs.

"No."

My restraint impresses even me. I'm dying to quicken the tempo. Dying to

find release. But I also never want this to end. I never want to lose this sensation

of sheer rightness.

So I drag it out, my hips thrusting and releasing so carefully that beads of

sweat break out on my forehead. When Summer tries to hook her legs around

my ass, I reprimand her by biting her neck and withdrawing completely.

"Dammit, Fitz…please. Please, please, please."

I've reduced her to begging. Hell yeah.

A husky laugh rumbles out of my chest. "I think I like tormenting you." To

punctuate that, I glide my cock into her again and slowly rotate my hips.

She clings to my shoulders, her tits crushed against my chest. Her nipples are

like sun-warmed little pebbles that dig in to my flesh. Her pussy grips me tight

enough to bring black dots to my vision.

"I need to come."

It's that one shaky word—need—that causes me to give in. Need, not want.

I've tortured her long enough.

With an agonized groan, I thrust as deep as I can, and off we go. The sex

becomes hard and fast and dirty. This time I let her wrap her legs around me, and

the new angle means I'm rubbing against her clit with each downstroke. She

comes first, and I'm not far behind, and then we're both gasping with pleasure

and rocking together as if we've done this a hundred times before.

Maybe I black out, because when the pleasure finally ebbs, I'm on my back

and Summer is lying on top of me, and I can't remember how we got in this

position. The spent condom is by my left knee. I don't remember removing it,

either. With my last remaining burst of energy, I pick it up, tie it off, and drop it

on the nightstand.

Summer rests her cheek on my collarbone. "Your heart's beating so fast."

"So's yours." The rapid flutter of her pulse vibrates against my chest, almost

in time to my own erratic heartbeat. I tangle my fingers in her hair.

She sighs happily. "I like cuddling naked with you."

"Me too," I say gruffly.

"I like having sex with you." Her breath heats my left nipple, making me

shiver. "I like you, period. I like you a lot."

"I…" My mouth goes dry. I almost say 'ditto' and then realize how

dismissive that sounds. So I say the next best thing—nothing.

Because that's how I roll.

Summer senses the shift in my demeanor. I know she does, because she

releases a quiet sigh. But to my surprise, she doesn't lose her temper the way she

has the other times I haven't offered the sweet words and reassurances she

clearly needs.

"I had an epiphany earlier."

I stroke her hair. "Did you?"

"Mmm-hmmm. I keep expecting you to be open about your feelings and

make yourself vulnerable in front of me, and maybe that's not fair." She absently

runs her fingers over my abdomen, leaving goose bumps in her wake. "I have to

remember that not everyone is like me. I say whatever's on my mind."

"Saying what's on your mind isn't the same as sharing what you feel," I

point out.

"I do that too."

I laugh. "True."

She goes silent, and I can practically hear her brain working. "I don't share

everything."

Curiosity tugs at me. "You keeping secrets from me, eh?"

"Not just from you. I keep secrets from everyone."

I doubt it. Like she said, Summer's one of the most open people I've ever

met. "Uh-huh. Such as?"

"Ha. I'm not revealing anything unless I know I'm getting something in

return." She props up on one elbow. "I'll make you a deal. Give me one thing.

One vulnerable, real moment. And if you do, I'll…" She purses her lips for a

second. "I'll tell you why I started the fire in my sorority house."

That gets my attention. It's the first time she's admitted that she'd

intentionally set the fire.

"Deal," I tell her. "But you have to go first."

"I knew you'd say that." She crawls forward and reaches for the fleece

blanket that's balled up at the foot of the bed.

"Are you cold?" I ask.

"Of course I'm cold. This is New England." She wraps the blanket around

her shoulders and returns to sit close to my side.

Me, I'm sprawled on my back, buck-naked, and my body is still on fire. I

tend to run hot.

"Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone." I don't miss the chord of

embarrassment in her voice. "The only people I've told are my parents."

"What about Dean? And your other brother?"

"Nicky and Dicky think I got drunk at a toga party and knocked over a

candle," she admits.

"And that's not what happened?"

Summer shakes her head.

The plot thickens… "So what did happen?"

"You have to promise, Fitz."

Her green eyes are more serious than I've ever seen them. "I promise."

She brings her hand to her mouth and begins chewing on her thumbnail. First

time I've ever seen her bite her nails. It's alarming, and I don't like it. Gently, I

reach up and capture her hand. I bring it down to my chest, where I cover it with

my palm.

"There was a toga party," she finally says. "That part is true. And I was

drunk, but not as drunk as my brothers believe. The Kappa house has a huge

enclosed porch, right off the sitting room. Actually, I guess it wasn't really a

porch. More like a sunroom. It was an addition to the mansion, and there was

this massive wall of windows, with thick drapes." She shrugs wryly. "Highly

flammable drapes, as it turned out."

"Oh boy."

"Yup." She tries to chew on her other thumb, so I steal that hand too and

clasp it to my chest. "I'm pretty much the only one who used the sunroom. It

wasn't well insulated, so it was usually super cold. I'd go and sit out there,

mostly when I was in a crappy mood and needed to be alone. Anyway, there was

a toga party. We were cohosting it with the Alpha Phi frat, and a few of the frat

members were in my Sociology class. The TA gave our midterm papers back

that morning, so the guys were talking about their grades and I overheard them."

Her tone turns bleak. "I guess they all aced it. Meanwhile, I got an F."

I swallow a sigh. "Ah, babe. I'm sorry." The term of endearment slips out

before I can stop it, but I'm not sure Summer even notices.

Shame darkens her eyes. "I plagiarized it."

The revelation stuns me. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." Her voice cracks. "I didn't realize it was considered plagiarism,

though. I paraphrased from a bunch of websites and didn't source them properly.

Anything with a direct quote, I cited. But not the other references. I stuck them

in the bibliography, but I guess I didn't do it right." She rubs her eyes, and when

she looks at me, there's misery clouding her expression. "I was already having

so much trouble with that paper, Fitz. It was a mess. I went in for extra help, but

it wasn't enough. I emailed the TA and asked for more help, but he was a total

dick and told me he'd accommodated me as much as he could. And, well, you

saw what happens when I get overwhelmed."

Sympathy fills my chest. "I'm sorry."

"I turned in the paper knowing I'd get a shitty grade, but I didn't expect an F.

And when I tried to talk to the TA after class and explain that I hadn't

intentionally plagiarized, he gave me the 'too bad, so sad' speech and said I

could appeal the grade with the college if I wanted, but that he doubted they'd

overturn it."

When I let go of her hands, Summer cinches the blanket tighter to her body.

"Fast forward to the party. The frat boys were bragging about their grades, and I

was standing there in a ridiculous toga feeling like a complete moron. I was…"

She groans softly. "I was so frigging tired of being the village idiot, you know?

Just knowing that my paper was upstairs on my desk, with that big red F and the

word 'plagiarism' written on it in capital letters. I was pissed. And I just wanted

to, I don't know, eliminate all the evidence of my stupidity."

My heart splinters at her stricken tone, then cracks in two when I see her

eyes. Jesus. She actually believes what she's saying. She truly thinks of herself

as stupid.

"So I went upstairs and grabbed the midterm, and then went down to the

sunroom and lit a match. There was a big ceramic bowl on a table under one of

the windows. I tossed the burning essay into it." She sighs. "I honestly thought it

would burn itself out. It probably would've, if it weren't for the drapes and the

fact that someone left the window open." She shakes her head in amazement.

"Of all the nights for someone other than me to be in there, right?"

I have to chuckle.

"So," she continues, "the breeze fanned the flames and the drapes caught fire

and the sunroom was no more."

"Did it seriously burn to the ground?"

"No. I mean, the outer wall was completely destroyed and needs to be

rebuilt, but the part that was attached to the actual mansion remained intact." She

hangs her head in shame. "When the fire department came, I lied and said I

knocked over a candle when I was dancing on the table. Like, 'Oops, I'm just a

drunk sorority girl in a toga!' They labeled it an accident, my parents wrote hefty

checks to the sorority and the school, and I was very nicely asked to leave."

"Wow." I sit up against the headboard and pull her toward me. She's

cocooned in fleece, so I run a comforting hand over her scalp. "Let me get this

straight," I say gently. "You'd rather people think you're a drunk party girl than

know that you got an F on a term paper?"

"Pretty much." She tips her head so she can meet my eyes. "But it sounds

really ridiculous when you say it out loud."

I cup her cheek, sweeping my thumb over her lower lip. It trembles when I

make contact with it. "You're not stupid, Summer. You have a learning

disability. There's a difference."

"I know that." The lack of conviction in her tone thoroughly troubles me, but

she doesn't give me a chance to probe any deeper. "There. Now you know

something truly embarrassing about me. It's your turn."

When I don't respond right away, she pokes her hand out of the blanket and

laces her fingers through mine.

"Share something, anything. You promised me something real, Fitz."

I did promise. But that doesn't mean it's easy for me to give it to her. "I…" I

grumble with frustration. "I'm not holding back on purpose," I tell her. "It's

just…a habit."

"A habit." Her forehead creases. "Holding back is a habit?"

"Yes. I don't talk about what I'm feeling."

"Why not, though?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I guess I…got used to whatever I said being used

against me."

"What on earth does that mean?"

Discomfort creeps up my spine, until the back of my neck feels cold, tight.

The instinct to flee is strong, but so is Summer's grip on my hand. I draw a

breath.

"Fitz?" she prompts.

I exhale. "My parents went through an ugly divorce when I was ten. My dad

cheated. Though if you ask him, it's because my mom drove him to it. Either

way, they couldn't stand each other back then, and they can't stand each other

now."

"I'm sorry. That sounds rough."

"You don't know the half of it. Until I turned twelve, they had joint custody.

And then Dad started dating some woman Mom despised, so she decided to sue

for full custody of me. Dad got pissed and decided he deserved full custody. And

that's when the head games began."

"Head games…?"

"The custody battle was even uglier than the divorce. They used me to hurt

each other."

Her eyes widen. "How so?"

"Whenever I was alone with Dad, he'd try to coerce me into saying bad shit

about Mom. She did the same thing. If I complained to Dad that Mom wouldn't

let me play ball hockey with my friends until I cleaned my room, suddenly

there'd be a social worker coming by and asking me if I felt 'socially isolated'

by my mother. If I told Mom that Dad let me eat sugary cereal before bedtime, a

different social worker would show up interrogating me about everything Dad

fed me. It was all being documented too. Every word I said went right back to

the lawyers."

"Oh my gosh, that's awful."

"They were throwing out accusations of neglect, emotional abuse,

'nutritional deprivation.'" I shake my head in disapproval. "And I couldn't tell

them how I felt about it. About anything at all, in fact. Otherwise the blame

game would start."

"The blame game?"

"If I was sad about something? It's your father's fault. If I was mad? Your

mother's fault. I was nervous about the school play? It's because your dad didn't

run lines with you. If something scared me? It's 'cause your mom's raising a

pussy." I let out a breath as I remember how exhausting it was to have a single

conversation with them. Hell, it's equally exhausting now.

"Did you go to court and tell the judge which parent you wanted to live

with?" Summer asks curiously. "Wouldn't that have solved the whole custody

battle?"

"You'd think. I did go to court. Well, it was more of a conference room with

a bunch of tables, but there was a judge."

I cringe even thinking about it. I remember holding a social worker's hand as

she led me into the room and asked me to sit down. My parents were seated next

to their respective lawyers. Mom was pleading at me with her eyes. Dad gave me

that encouraging look that said, 'I know you'll make the right decision.'

Everyone was staring at me. It was fucking brutal.

"The judge asked me to describe my routine at each of their houses." I

absently rub Summer's knuckles. "She asked me questions about what I ate,

whether I enjoyed playing hockey—a bunch of questions that made me realize

they'd told the lawyers everything I'd ever said to them. And then the judge

asked me who I wanted to live with."

Summer's breath hitches. "Who did you pick?"

My lips twitch in amusement. "I pleaded the Fifth."

Her jaw drops. "You were twelve, and you pleaded the Fifth?"

"Yup. I think I saw someone do it on CSI or some shit." I snicker. "The

judge said I couldn't do that and urged me to pick. So I said both. I wanted to

live with both." I offer a wry smile. "She awarded them joint custody, which was

what they'd started off with. She said she felt it was better for my mental and

emotional wellbeing to spend equal time with both of them."

"Did things get better after that? Did your parents settle down?"

"Nope. They kept trash-talking each other to me. Still do to this day, though

not as bad as before."

She frowns. "How'd you deal with it when you were growing up?"

"By becoming invisible," I say roughly. "I mean, there was one rebellious

phase where I got my first tat behind their back and dared them to pay attention

to me, but mostly I hid in my room. As long as they couldn't see me, they

weren't able to poison me against each other."

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

I shrug.

"You're doing it again," she teases with a smile. "Okay, listen. I know

you're used to having your feelings twisted into something negative, but I

promise you, anything you tell me will stay in our sacred trust circle. I will

never, ever report it to the judge."

I find myself smiling back. "I'm sorry. Bad habit. I'll try to break it." I shoot

her a stern look. "But only if you promise to stop being so hard on yourself.

You've got to stop telling yourself you're stupid."

"I'll try," she says, and I suppose I can't ask for more than that. "Are you

hungry? I never ended up having dinner."

I want to ask her why not, what happened on the date with Hunter, but I tamp

down the urge. I really don't want to kill the mood by bringing up another guy.

That can wait till tomorrow.

I want tonight to be about just me and Summer.