Page 86 of Secrets and Lies
“How about we settle on acknowledging that I rocked your world,” he suggests in an amused voice.
“Yeah, we can do that.” I flex my fingers and wiggle my toes to get some circulation back in my hands and feet after spending the last god knows how long clinging to him like a drowning man might hang onto a life raft in the ocean. “My whole body is tingling.”
“That’s because I rocked your world.” He rubs his cheek against mine one more time, then slowly climbs off me. I shiver as the cold air hits my sweat-damp skin.
“You definitely did.” I sit up and instinctively cover my junk, but before I can start freaking out about being the only one naked now that the sexy times are over, he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.
I quickly pull them on and try to shake off the awkwardness that’s still lingering around us while he takes care of the condom and gathers up his phone from where it’s still laying on my bed. When I’m dressed, I glance down at the mess I made on his hoodie.
My cheeks heat, and I quickly redirect my gaze to the closet.
“How did you get in here?” I ask now that I can think in full thoughts again.
I’m pretty sure I left the door open, so that’s why I didn’t hear him open it, but he still had to getintomy closet in the first place. I haven’t left my room or even gone to the bathroom since I agreed to his deal. How the hell did he sneak in when I’ve been here the whole time?
I can’t see anything under his mask and hood with my bedside light behind him and backlighting him like it is, and he just tilts his head like he’s studying me. “I have my ways,” he finally says.
I have so many questions I want to ask, but at the same time, I don’t really want to know the answers to them.
As fucked up as it is, I’d rather not know anything about him. That way, I can’t hyperfixate on him, and hopefully that will stop me from spending all of my waking hours analyzing and obsessing over every second of our interactions. Instead I’ll just spend half of my time overthinking, which, for me, is an improvement.
We stare at each other for a few moments, or at least I assume he’s also staring at me because I can barely even see the outline of his eyes right now.
“See you around,” he says, that hint of amusement still in his tone.
I wait to see what he’ll do, but instead of going back to my closet, he walks toward my door. When he reaches it, he pulls his mask off with one hand and flips open the lock on the other. His hood is up, so his identity is still hidden from me as he tucks his mask into his hoodie pocket. Then he opens my door and steps into the hall.
Theclickof my door latching is like a release valve, and I flop back on my bed like someone let all the air out of me at once.
Today has been the weirdest day of my life, and now I know for sure that my mystery texter is one of my frat brothers, he’s definitely into guys, and for some reason, he’s into me.
A little laugh bubbles up in my chest. I might have to give him a name beyond calling him my mystery texter. And I should probably just bite the bullet and save him in my contacts.
I can keep telling myself that I have a handle on things and I’m only holding onto his number just in case I need it in the future, but the fact that I can’t stop texting him says otherwise. And I can’t pretend like he didn’t just rock my world and I already wanted to do it again before the afterglow even wore off.
An image of him standing over me with his face cast in shadows and his big, powerful body making me feel small and safe filters through my vision, and the name Mr. X pops into my head.
It’s probably the most uninspired name possible, but my brain is still partially scrambled from the dicking down I just got, so that’s about as creative as I can be right now.
And stupidly enough, it fits him. He isn’t flashy or fancy, and giving him an elaborate nickname wouldn’t work. Something simple and bold that can stand alone definitely fits him better.
Another laugh bubbles up in my chest. What the actual fuck is wrong with me? I get some good dick and now I’m analyzing my masked frat brother to find the perfect nickname for him?
Have I actually gone crazy? Or is this just an aftereffect of the best sex of my life?
A twinge of pain in my ass brings me back to reality, and I stop laughing. I didn’t just lose my dude virginity tonight—the man I let deflower me isn’t just one of my frat brothers, he’s also the same guy I rubbed off on during the Hunt all those years ago, and he’s known it was me this whole time.
What the actual fuck?
14
ANTHONY
Knock.Knock.Knock.
Instead of calling out to ask who’s at my door, or to tell them to just come in, I pause the video I’m working on and get up from my desk chair to answer it in person.
Just as I’m expecting, West is standing at my door looking so distraught it’s like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin.
