Page 55 of Rush

I flip through Jameson’s phone and the pink app with the yellow flower catches my eye. As far as I know Jameson isn’t seeing anyone. He’s never said anything about a dating app either, so the girl looking icon makes me pause. I tap on it, my gaze flicking over to where he’s reclined in my bed, textbook in his hands. A calendar pops up with little markings all over the place. A countdown window is at the top. 13 days to go till next period. My body tenses and I freeze.

“Why do you have a period calendar app?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think through how crazy it sounds.

His eyes lift and his head tilts, examining me. “So I can make sure you stay plied with chocolate that week before and have extra pain medication in my backpack on the week of.”

He shrugs like he didn’t just rock my world. “This is my period you’re tracking?” I shriek, my voice sounding shrill even to me. When he laughs my face turns bright red. My hands fumble for my phone where I open it to the calendar and see the little blue dot with my Period Due label on it. Counting quickly, I see it does match up, 13 days to go.

“You do realize no sane sixteen-year-old boy has a period tracking app on his phone.”

Jameson gets off the bed and stalks over to the desk chair I’m sitting in. His hands land on the chair arms and spins until I’m facing him, my legs bracketed between his thighs. “Did you never notice how I always seem to have extra candy bars, gummy bears, Hot Tamales or suggest going for ice cream when you’re PMSing? Or how about the day you get your period and you feel so terrible, but I always seem to have the medicine you need, an extra hoodie for you to wear, or even an Icy-Hot patch?”

My brain ticks through each of these things and more. Like how he always manages to convince our gym teacher to give me a break on that first day. How he parks closer to the school on the week I’m on my period too. My jaw drops.

“You’re tracking it for me?”

He rolls his eyes then presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m tracking it so I can best take care of you, Sammy.”

Jameson steps into my room, and I’m pulled from the memory. Everything I’ve learned in the past week loops in my mind, a series of conversations past and present converge. My mom’s voice echoing her thoughts that Jameson’s love for me is wild and toxic emerges in my subconscious. I suddenly feel like a sand crane with my head stuck in the dirt for way too long. My heart races and my hands feel clammy. The pain inside of me builds and builds until it feels like I could rip my skin off. The contents of my lunch threaten to reemerge, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. His eyes flash, knowing the conclusions I’ve come to. There’s no hesitancy. No sign of remorse either. His gaze darkens and he smirks. The question I need to know the most flies from my mouth…

“Did you get me pregnant on purpose?”

jameson

. . .

Sam already knows everything. There’s no possibility of denying the inevitable. I always knew the truth would come out eventually—that she would question her scholarship, the apartment, the Jeep. Especially after finding out about my races and the money I was getting paid; it was only a matter of time. I was not expecting the first question she threw at me, which means she found the list. I had been careful to keep it hidden. That piece of paper has stuck with me for five years, secretly hidden in my pocket. In my rush to undress last night, I didn’t take proper care to put it in my wallet. Still, I knew something with Sam was off from the second she left my apartment this morning. I watched on the cameras as she left, five minutes after our phone call. I watched her face, the calm exterior slowly cracking as she headed to the door. She didn’t stop to say hi in the garage, ducking out of there as soon as she could, escaping. What really tipped me off though was the call from Leah in the administration's office notifying me that Sam stopped in and asked all the right questions to where she had to reveal the truth about her tuition. I thanked Leah for her service the past few years and told her I could take it from there. Tracking Sam’s phone all day, I was surprised she stayed in her classes and went right to practice. My earlier assumption was that she would pick Dylan up like normal and wait to talk to me at my place. I did not plan for a situation where she would send Dylan off with one of her friends for the night and hide away in her apartment. At top speed on the icy roads, I reached her place within fifteen minutes.

I straighten my stance and walk farther into her room, hating the distance between us. I’m torn in two. Half of me wants to pull her into me and shelter her from the darkest parts of my soul, while the other wants to relish in her discovery and finally let her see everything I’ve done to keep her.

Sam holds up a hand, trying to halt my movement. “Answer me, Jameson! Did you get me pregnant in high school on purpose?”

My chest heaves and I lean down to match her glaring eyes with only the truth in mine. “I didn’t try not to.”

Fuck, I have missed having my girl all over me. Feeling her tongue run over the tip of my cock, her lips stretching around me and sucking my length down her throat is an image I could die happy after seeing. For the first time in two weeks, Sam is finally feeling better. We thought she just had the normal cold she gets every year, but this time it's different. They diagnosed her with pneumonia, and it felt like I was dying. Sam and her friends have been hell bent on making memories for our senior year. I’m convinced she ran herself ragged and that's how she became susceptible to catching pneumonia. She was out of school for the week and had told her mom to bar me from visiting her until she wasn’t contagious. Even in the earlier days of this sickness, I still kissed her lips, let her lie all over my chest, and tried to breathe in as much of her air as possible, hoping to be bedridden right next to her. Days at school crawled by while I worried about her. The last thing I care about is my studies when the love of my life is lying sick in bed, miserable, coughing horribly to the point she throws up. All I had wanted to do was fix it for her, to make her feel better, and she had banned me from her presence. Now my Pretty Girl is making it up to me with her mouth.

My hand reaches down, gathering her silky blonde hair and pulling until she moans around my cock, her throat spasming around it.

“You look so fucking pretty right now, Sammy.” I groan, my hips thrusting up lightly, pushing me deeper. “My perfect dream girl sucking me off. Bet you wish you hadn’t denied me your mouth, your hands, or your pussy for the past week.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at me and I see the devilish little glint in her eyes. “You didn’t need to be sick, too, Kane,” she answers, pulling back and running her hand up and down my shaft. Her lips glisten, her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is messy from my hands. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

“I want to be wherever you are, Sam. I hate not being able to get to you.”

Her blue eyes soften and she stands, dropping her jeans and panties to the floor. My throat dries up, and every part of my body goes rock solid within seconds.

“Well, I’m all better now, Kane,” she purrs, leaning in and pressing her lips to mine. My cock twitches against her hip.

My eyes narrow on her as she straddles my lap, gripping the end of her shirt and pulling it off over her head. I swear I stop breathing at the sight of her completely naked on top of me. I jackknife up, my arms wrapping around her waist, and flip her over onto her back. Her thighs fall open and I grind into her, feeling her slippery wetness. I fucking missed having her like this.

Leaning in, I kiss a trail down her throat and chest, circling her nipple with the tip of my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. My hand cups her other breast, squeezing gently. A moan escapes her mouth and the sound is the most erotic thing I’ve heard in days. My body screams to be inside her. I’ve gone too long without. Sam’s hips tilt up, rolling against me, seeking the same type of skin on skin friction. My cock glides through her heat and wetness and my brain short circuits for a second, lost in how good she feels. Then the reality of how close I am to stepping over the line crashes in and I pull back, practically yanking my body from hers before we go any further.

“Condom.” My voice sounds hoarse as I shake my head, almost panicking. “I didn’t bring one. It's been days and you were sick.”

Her thighs tighten around my waist and she bites her lip. Usually I’m prepared, always ready to give her what she needs, because we’re addicted to each other. I always promised myself I would take care of Sam, and I see to all her needs. I also care about her safety and health. We were each other's firsts and I know she’s on birth control, but I still glove up as an extra layer of protection.

“I’m on the pill,” she responds shyly, the words tumbling out.

My eyes slam shut and I grasp for any shred of will power I can find. I want to protect her. I also want to feel her bare as I take her, making her mine on the inside as well. I never plan to be with anyone else. She’ll never have anyone other than me either. Mentally, I try to tally where she’s at in her cycle. I just looked yesterday and she’s a week past having her period. My heart slams in my rib cage.