17. Kenna

17

KENNA

"He could charm the dew right off the honeysuckle." ~ Archie "Witty" Whitlock

I stared up at my ceiling and watched the fan blades spinning around. Even though it was the middle of winter, I had to have a fan on to sleep—not that I was doing much sleeping. It was midnight, and I was wide awake.

Hanging out with Jonah at the tree lighting and after had been…fine. I enjoyed his company. He was attractive. I would even go so far as to say I was attracted to him, but when he leaned down to kiss me, I turned my head and gave him a hug.

A hug.

Why was I blowing this?

What was wrong with me?

Thankfully, there was going to be a fourth date, so I would have the opportunity to redeem myself. However, I couldn't take credit for making that happen; my mom had secured it. At the end of the festival, we ran into my parents, who invited Jonah to their anniversary party, which was in two days. My mom insisted that I bring him as my date, and he graciously accepted. I should be grateful to her. She was an incredible wing woman tonight. But I didn't know how I felt about it. My head was all over the place.

That wasn't true. It wasn't all over the place. It was in one place. A place it knew very well. It was with Sam.

He knew my deepest, darkest secret. Okay, that was dramatic, even for me. But he did. It was something I'd kept to myself, and now another person knew it. Not just any person. Sam knew it.

If I were taking a fearless inventory of what I'd been obsessing over, I would have to admit that I could not get the things Sam had said about me when he was trying to convince me I was "everyone's type" out of my head. It was like a broken record playing on repeat.

"You're smart, hilarious, cool, sweet, and fiery. You never look for a fight, but never back down when one finds you. You are loyal and caring. You love your family and friends with breathtaking intensity. And you're hot. Insanely hot. You are the epitome of a sexy girl-next-door. Literally, in my case ."

I was a lot of things, but na?ve wasn't one of them. I knew exactly what his words were and, more importantly, what they were not .

Sam was a charming guy. A silver-tongued devil. A Casanova. He'd never turned his linguistic powers on me before, but it's not like I hadn't witnessed them in action. I knew he was only saying those things to me because he wanted to make me feel better as a penance for his betrayal. Or maybe he just felt sorry for me because I was a thirty-three, nearly thirty-four-year-old virgin.

Or maybe he actually meant it— a tiny voice piped up in the back of my head.

But I ignored that voice. If he actually believed everything he said about me, then why wouldn't he want to be with me?

Maybe it was the same way I felt about Jonah. I saw all of his amazing qualities, but the spark, the I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off, just wasn't there when I looked at him. And maybe it wasn't there when Sam looked at me.

If that were the case, then my situation was even more dire than I'd thought. I'd always assumed he just thought of me like a little sister. He loved my family, and they loved him. He was pretty much an unofficial Hale. But in the back of my mind, even if I hadn't admitted it to myself, I was convinced that one day he'd look at me and see me as more than just his best friend, more than just Milo and Mason's little sister. I thought it was going to be like in the movies when the nerdy girl takes off her glasses, shakes out her bun, and all of a sudden, the hero thinks she's hot.

But if he already considered me hot—insanely hot, the epitome of the sexy girl next door—and he still wasn't interested in me, then there was zero chance of that changing. The flickers of hope that my constant state of delusion had fanned for years were finally extinguished.

Tears began to pool in my eyes and then spill down my face as disappointment and maybe grief for a dream I'd held onto for far too long finally died inside of me. Instead of fighting against it or trying to pull myself together, I surrendered to despondency. I floated in the sea of sadness and didn't fight against the waves of dejection, hopelessness, and melancholy. I willingly sank into the full Anne of Green Gables depths of despair.

I was mid-sob when my phone lit up on the nightstand with a notification from my Ring camera. I picked it up and saw that Sam was letting himself inside my house. He wasn't supposed to spend the night tonight. He'd been cleared to climb stairs. He should be home. I could see from the sweats he was wearing that, clearly, he'd been home because he'd changed out of his jeans.

My heart started pounding wildly as I watched him disappear inside my home. Why was he here? Had he just gotten used to the couch? Had he forgotten his toothbrush?

When I heard his footsteps coming down the hall, I quickly wiped the tears from my face and pretended to be asleep. I turned on my side, facing the wall, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and closed my eyes.

The door opened, and I heard more footsteps before I felt the mattress dip as he lowered into bed next to me, just like he used to do when we were younger.

Several minutes passed, and I thought I was in the clear, that my fake-sleep ploy had worked, when he said, "I know you're not sleeping."

I could ignore him, but I didn't see the point. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured on my last night here we could have a sleepover. For old time's sake."

"Last night was your last night here," I countered as I heard Winnie's collar shake out behind me as she left my feet, where she'd been sound asleep, to go and snuggle with Sam. Traitor.

"Winnie doesn't want me to go."

Neither do I; that's the problem.

I sighed.

The mattress dipped again. Even though my back was facing him, I knew that he had turned on his side toward me. It was what he did when he wanted to talk. And I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to talk about.

"Don't," I warned.

"Don't what?"

"I already told you we're not going to talk about it."

"We have to."

"No, we don't."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I could hear the hurt in his voice. Everyone thought Sam Whitlock was this charming, handsome, easy-going, charismatic guy who could get any woman he wanted and that nothing ever bothered him. They assumed that with his reputation, he was Teflon, and nothing stuck to him. The opposite was true. He was very sensitive, and things hurt him. Deeply.

Even though I was going through my own shit right now, I would never want to actually hurt Sam. Yes, I was in love with him and had been since I was six. But I also loved him as my best friend, and I would die before I would ever hurt him intentionally.

With a sigh, I rolled over to face him. "I never told anyone."

"No one?"

"No."

"Not Delilah?"

"No."

"Taylor?"

"No."

"Kelsi?"

"No."

"Your mom?"

We could be here all night.

" No . One ." I emphasized both words.

He stared at me for a few beats before asking, "Why not?"

I couldn't tell him the true reason. If I told any of them, they would have thought that I was saving myself for him. Everyone in my life thought I had feelings for Sam. Which I did. But I'd never admitted them to anyone. I'd barely admitted them to myself.

"I don't know," I lied.

"So, you haven't had sex, but you've done other stuff, right?"

"Why are you…you can't ask me that."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"I tell you everything about my sex life."

"I know." He did. And every detail made me feel sick to my stomach. "But I never ask you."

"Yes, you do."

"No. I don't."

He was quiet, and I was sure he was trying to remember a time I'd asked him for any details about his sex life. I hadn't. I learned my lesson not to ask Sam questions that I didn't want to know the truthful answer to. He just volunteered information.

"Okay, so what have you done?"

In frustration, I snapped, "Why do you care?"

"Because this is important."

"Why is it important?"

"If you can't even talk about it, how do you think you're going to do it?"

Crap. I hadn't thought about that. He was right. But then again, if anyone was an expert on sex, it was Sam Whitlock.

"It's not a big deal; just tell me what you've done." He was talking to me the same way he talked to Winnie when he came with me to rescue her from the animal shelter in Parrish Creek. It was his soothing tone. His you-don't-have-anything-to-worry-about tone. His you're-in-a-safe-space tone.

The problem was that tone had always turned me on. I felt my cheeks heat, and I hoped that the tiny light that was coming through the window from the moon was not enough for him to see me blushing.

"Okay, fine, new plan." He clapped his hands together. "I'll name some things, and you tell me yes or no."

"Fine."

"Have you had an orgasm before?"

"Yes." Not until I was twenty, but I wasn't going to admit that. In my junior year in college, I went to a sex toy party, and a whole new world opened up to me. Well, not a whole new world, just a vibrating device that looked like lipstick, which I was pretty sure was fairly vanilla when it came to sex toys.

"Has someone else ever given you an orgasm, or have you only had them when you're alone?"

I was quiet for a minute. I didn't know why I was hesitant to admit that I'd only orgasmed alone, but for some reason, I felt embarrassed about it.

"Alone," I said softly.

"Have you ever received or given oral sex?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound so shocked?" If he was going to be judgy about this, then I was done talking about it.

"No, I'm not. That's good. If you're not getting any, you shouldn't be giving any. Sex should be mutually beneficial."

I licked my lips as my pulse sped up.

"What about hand stuff?"

"Yes."

"You gave someone a hand job?"

"Yes, and Steve returned the favor, or he tried."

"What do you mean he tried?"

"I mean, he…touched me… but I didn't come." The more we talked about this, the easier it was getting.

"He touched you?" Sam's voice was getting deeper, and his breathing was getting shallower. I recognized his change in breathing because it matched my own.

"Yes, he fingered me."

"But you didn't come?"

"I couldn't because I still had the issue, so it didn't really work. It was before I went to the doctor. But, even if I hadn't had that abnormality, I don't think I would have come." I'd wanted to feel something when he touched me, but I hadn't. There were no tingles at all, not like now.

Just talking about this stuff with Sam and I had an ache swirling between my legs.

"Why not?" Sam's gravelly voice caused goosebumps to break out on my arms.

"From what I've heard, it takes a lot for a girl to come, and most of the ones I know don't like being fingered."

"Then they're with someone who is doing it wrong."

The confidence in his tone only added to the sexual tension I was feeling.

"And you know the right way to do it?"

"Do you want me to show you?"

My breath caught in my throat. Was he actually saying what I thought he was saying? Before I could wrap my head around the offer, he scooted up on the pillow, lifted his hands and formed an O with one hand and then jabbed his finger in it with another.

Right. He meant show me, not show me.

"Most guys do this; what they need to do is the Spiderman."

"The Spiderman?" I breathed.

"Yeah, see." He flipped his hand so his palm was facing up. "You make your hand like you're shooting a web and keep your forefinger and pinky stretched out straight, and you take your middle and ring finger and push them inside just about an inch."

I watched as he demonstrated on the O of his left hand.

"Then you curl the tips of your fingers up and tap against the anterior wall until you find the G-spot. And that leaves your thumb free to tease the clit."

The ache between my legs was increasing by the second. I watched his fingers flex as his thumb made a rubbing motion. I imagined him doing that to me. His fingers inside of me. His thumb brushing over my…

"That's the right way," he stated flatly before lying back down and turning over, so his back was to me. "Sweet dreams, pretty girl."

I lay there, unable to think, move, or even breathe. I was dumbstruck, gob-smacked, stunned, and very turned on by what had just transpired. Hormones were rushing through me like white-water rapids. Bliss was swirling low in my belly, making me feel a desperation I'd never experienced before.

Did females get blue balls? Because if they did, I was pretty sure that's what was happening to me.

Not knowing what to do, I rolled over, so I was facing the wall once again. After lying there trying to ignore it, the ache was so heavy in my core that I slid my hand between my legs just to put some pressure on the area. When I did, it felt good. Very good.

I'd only ever reached climax with my toy, but I was so close to it already that I wondered if I'd be able to achieve the same result with my hand. Slowly, careful not to make a sound or even disturb the mattress, I slipped my hand into my sweats and then panties and when my finger grazed my clit, I felt a burst of bliss explode in my center. Then I grazed it again, and that explosion continued.

My mouth opened in a silent gasp as I buried my face in my pillow, and I fisted the comforter with my hand that wasn't between my legs in my pillow as I tried to be as quiet and still as humanly possible. The entire experience probably only lasted a few seconds, but when it ended, I felt exhausted and a little naughty. A lot naughty. I wondered if this was the first time Sam had gotten someone off without even touching them. I doubted it.

The longer I lay there, the more I was convinced that Sam must have known what had happened. He was the most perceptive person I knew. But he didn't say anything, and I wasn't going to ask. Instead, I just closed my eyes and drifted into the deepest sleep I'd had in a very long time.