24. Locke

"Spend the night with me," I say, scooping her almost lifeless body into my arms after I push myself up out of the pool.

The sun is just about to disappear below the horizon, and it will look beautiful from my bedroom window.

Maren nods into my chest and clings to my shoulders.

When I make it up the stairs and into my bedroom, I dry both of us off with a towel before I slide my comforter back and deposit her into the middle of my bed.

I climb in next to her, and she hitches a leg over my waist and nuzzles back into my chest, smiling to herself and drunk on pleasure. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I say, twirling my fingers through her hair, "in high school. Gwen Stevens."

"What was Gwen Stevens like?" she asks.

I laugh. "Out of my league."

"Hm," she hums. "I don't believe you."

"I was hopelessly in love with her all through middle school."

"She didn't know you existed?"

"No, she knew," I say, rolling my eyes. "She ignored me. "

"Well, what happened? You grew a foot? Or did you become a junior golf champion? No, you got contacts and your braces off, and suddenly, she realized you were hot all along?"

I pull her across my body and pinch her ass. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yes," she sighs. "You think you're hot. I think you're hot. You know I think you're hot. We're all in agreement."

"I like hearing you say it. Especially when you get feisty."

Maren crosses her hands on my chest and rests her chin on top. She scrunches her nose, and those tiny little brown freckles make my stomach drop. My pinky runs over the bridge of her nose, making me wish I could somehow feel them.

"So, how did you win over Gwen Stevens?" she chuckles.

"I didn't even know at the time really," I admit. "I didn't care about her anymore. I was so focused on golf freshman year. And then sophomore year, my mom tried to get clean for the first time. I was naive, of course, thinking this was it. She'd go to rehab and stay sober. Be my mom again. Elise paid for it out of her retirement, so it also makes me happy that I can now take care of my entire family. They don't need to worry about things like that anymore."

I pause, knowing I'm saying too much, but I can't find it in me to care enough to stop myself. Maren doesn't even seem bothered, unlike every other person besides my family I've ever watched fidget uncomfortably.

"Anyway," I say, "at a party sophomore year, Gwen was suddenly into me. Out of nowhere. Looking back, it made sense. I'd been hooking up with girls from other schools, keeping my lives separated. It was so much easier that way. I never had to see them or open up to them. They didn't know much about my life, and I didn't care about theirs. I think Gwen saw me as a challenge for the first time."

Maren cocks her head to the side, studies my face with furrowed eyebrows, then chuckles out, "What'd you do? Challenge her right back? "

I can't keep the smile off my face. I can't keep my hands off her body, they just roam everywhere. "You think you know me?"

"Yes," she says slowly, ears pink, before she recovers confidently. "At least, I think I'm starting to."

"I'm an asshole sometimes," I confirm, squeezing her thighs before I hesitate, wondering how much I should share with her. But every part of me wants to be honest with her and that wins out. "An asshole who is always trying to win a game—challenging myself, playing with my food, cat and mouse. I get off on the thrill, addicted to the adrenaline. It's a mystery why I never wanted to play golf past college because it's everything I love. Though I've matured some since high school, I think it just runs in my blood. My mom's dad was an alcoholic who drank himself to death before I was born."

Maybe I haven't matured that much, because here I am, doing the same thing—adrenaline courses through my sick, twisted veins now from the anticipation that my dick will be buried inside Maren whenever I decide I want to. I've been hard since we got out of the car. All I have to do is kiss her, and she'll appease me. And yet… I'm still talking, still dragging out this feeling.

Or maybe it's the talking flooding my brain with dopamine. At this point, I'm not even sure. Maybe I'm challenging her to think less of me. Daring her to put an end to us.

Before I ruin it. Before Maren sends me into a spiral—one she won't want any part of.

But fuck if her smile doesn't make my stomach twist. I love how kind she is to everyone, how she shines for everyone else, but still has a fight in her that she doesn't want you to see, that makes me feel lucky when I do.

Maren lifts her chin so she can skirt her hand to my rib cage and trace my tattoo with her fingertip. "That doesn't make you him or your mom," she whispers.

"Maybe not, but I made Gwen work for it, pushed her to make the first move, because I never would. No matter how badly I wanted her, the buzz I got from seeing how far she'd go was fun. It's funny though because I knew she didn't really want me . She wanted to say she had me. She wanted me because she thought I'd go pro.

"And sure, eventually I let Gwen have me. She was my first crush after all, and I'd take her on any terms. Then I became so consumed with her she broke up with me because I was too much, too obsessed with her. I talked about my mom, my family, stupidly thinking that my mom would never relapse. I lost the mystery she was chasing, which I've dealt with for a decade now. It's hard for me to trust people in the first place and being a professional athlete makes it even harder. Women see me as a lifestyle. They want to be the one I fall in love with, but none of them actually want me . They see what I have, what I can give them, and I'm the little inconvenience they have to accept to get it. Luckily, I don't care enough, and I don't want to share my personal life with people, so it works for everyone for a while. It taught me what I'm good for though, and it's not relationships."

"Locke," Maren says softly, "you're worth so much more than that, than all of the things you own, no matter how well you can hit a golf ball. And maybe some girls don't want that but some women do—the head over heels, I can't think straight, I'd do anything and everything just to kiss you right now, she's mine type of love. Some women know what it feels like to always come in second place."

I sweep her hair back and lift my shoulders off the bed to kiss her. "Is that what you want?" I ask, rolling us over and pinning her to the bed. "Someone who's obsessed with you?"

Her green eyes pop as her pupils contract then expand. She nods, her breathing heavy underneath me like she's trying to push back against me.

I can feel her pulse racing in her wrists above her head where I have them in a tight grip.

"Put your weight on me," she asks.

Taking the weight off my forearms, I let my body drop further onto hers as I slide my cock into her .

She moans out my name. I've never felt anything more perfect, heard anything more beautiful, seen anything more gorgeous.

Everywhere—my heart, my brain, my nerves—is shot. Blackened and deadened from the sudden shock.

"How can anyone not be obsessed with you?" I whisper into her neck.

She nibbles on my earlobe, bites it, before she gasps when I push myself into her fully. "More," she pleads, digging her nails into my back.

Like I'm playing a role: the guy who gets her off on her praise kink.

To her, I'm the guy who doesn't mean the things he's saying. To me, I can't explain it because I've never felt this way before, but I do mean it. Even if I don't understand it.

I press my forehead against hers. Our eyes are an inch apart, and there's nowhere else to look. "You don't even know, Maren. I would do anything for you. The lengths I would go to keep you happy and safe and loved, keep you coming on my dick every night." Her legs shake. A fuck falls out of her mouth under her breath when I slam into her as deep as I can. "You feel how good you fit around me? You're a fucking treasure. You're out of my league. I mean it when I tell you you're my good girl, and it would be a fucking privilege if you were obsessed with me. "

I kiss her hard. She kisses harder back.

We're trading groans into each other's mouths until we're both coming together, sweaty and wild.

It feels real, raw, and for a second, I think I see the same feeling in her eyes blazing back at me before it quickly goes out.