"Just don't hurt him, London," Trent added.

"Wait, what?" I laughed. "You're a dickhead."

"You guys should get out of here, though, unless you want Mom to come down here and see this. Not that she'd be upsetthe exact opposite actually, but I don't know if Pratt's ready for that level of Mom yet." He smirked as he left the room.

"What time is it?" I asked Pratt.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check. I wasn't looking, but I couldn't help but notice the '18 New Texts' alert across the screen.

"One-thirty." He stuck his phone back in his pocket and slid out from under me to sit upright. I sat up too, wondering if he was moving away from me for a reason. Maybe Trent scared him off with the whole Mom comment, or perhaps it had something to do with the eighteen texts he'd missed. Cool it. You aren't a jealous person. At least you never were.

"I need a drink and the bathroom." He lightly slapped my knee and stood, offering his hand to help me up. I took it and stood up too, then picked up my mess from earlier.

"Goodnight," he said to me, and kissed my forehead before leaving the room.

Boo. No more Eighty-Six for the night.

I went to the kitchen to wash the dishes I'd used. After I finished, Tuna came in looking for a treat.

"You are such an oinker, Tuna. Did you come all the way down here just because you knew I'd give you a treat?" I laughed and petted him.

Just as I was turning off the light to head to bed, Tuna's ears popped up slightly. I stopped to listen, and could hear a faint muffled voice coming from upstairs. It didn't get any clearer as I went up the stepsit was just a slightly louder muffled voice behind running water. Whoever it was didn't want anyone to know what was being said, that's for sure. Maybe it was Pratthe'd said he needed the bathroom. That's when the water shut off and I could hear the voice more clearly. I contemplated running down the hall to my brother's room to see who was missing, then I told myself I was being ridiculous. Whoever it was, it was none of my business. If they wanted anybody to know, they wouldn't have gone through all that to hide it . . . at nearly two a.m.

"I'll see you when I come to visit." There was a pause. "Yes, soon. I've got to go, Trent needs the bathroom."

Well, that settled it. That was for sure Pratt doing the talking. Somewhere in the three seconds I got lost in my thoughts, the door swung open, and then my brother was standing in front of me with Pratt right behind him.

"Jesus Christ, London. How long have you been standing there? You scared the fuck out of me," Trent whisper yelled as Pratt handed his phone back.

I was really confused but I didn't want to ask any questions. I was embarrassed enough getting caught eavesdropping . . . even though I didn't hear squat.

What the hell were they doing in there together, making some super-secret phone call?

"I needed the bathroom." That was the simplest answer I could come up with without coming off as a snooping snooper that snoops. Even though I was snooping . . . kind of sort of, in an inadvertent way.

I went back to my room after I pretended to use the bathroom and threw my pants in the hamper so I was comfy for sleep.

Sleep. Yeah, right.

I wondered who Pratt was talking with that he would tell them he'd see them soon? And why was he using Trent's phone? His seemed to work fine earlier. I didn't know enough about his past to make any assumptions, so I tried my best to forget about the eighteen texts and the mystery phone call and go to sleep.

But that didn't work so well. I found myself thinking about Pratt and how he was just down the hall from me. This was so easy it was hard for me to grasp. Never, ever had I connected with someone the way I was connecting with Pratt. Most everyone I'd dated I knew from grade school and up. I never really dated 'out of the box' except for a few guys my sophomore year. Always seemed after the fifth date, if I would give in to my own wants as well, I never really heard from them again. Alright, not completely true. That may have happened with one guy and I sort of expected it. I was totally okay with it. The others though, I may have blocked their phone number once or twice when they'd get too needy. I had a plan to follow, and I didn't want or need to drag any extra baggage around with me.

My phone went off, making me jump a little. It was him.

Can I come in?

Sure.

As soon as I hit send on my reply, my heart began to race and my stomach was in a state of that blissful turmoil. He wants to see me.

My door opened, and I could see his shadow in the moonlight from my window. Tuna gave a grumpy grumble at the interruption, and went out. Then Pratt shut the door behind him.

He stood next to my bed, shirtless, and I sat up. His lickable abs were right at my eye level as he ran his hands through his hair and left them folded on top of his head, exhaling with what seemed like frustration. Even in the dim light I could see he wasn't okay.

"L, I . . ." he began.

I didn't want him to say anything else. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning and it seemed like a lot had happened in the hour since we woke up on the couch. I didn't want to think about anything, and I wanted to take whatever was bothering him off his mind . . . at least for a little while.

I pushed the covers back, then slipped a hand into the waistband of his shorts and pulled him towards me. "Want to keep me warm?"

"You aren't mad?" He cocked his head to the side with a surprised expression.

"Mad? At what?" I asked. I mean I was curious, yes, but mad? No.

"The bathroom phone call," he said flatly.

"A, not my business. B, it wasn't my intention to eavesdrop. And C, I didn't hear anything. So no, I'm not mad." I gave a quick laugh, trying to convince him that I was okay, because I really didn't want to talk about it.

"London, let me explain," he said as he got into bed. He lay on his side facing me and slid his arm under my pillow.

"I. Don't. Care." I kissed his lips after each word. Then I ran my hand around his side, up his back to his shoulder, then down his arm.

He tried again. "But . . ."

"Shhh, please?" I cut him off. "I'm exhausted." Then I lifted my head up to kiss him again. That time I made sure the last thing he'd want to do was talk.

It was as if I'd relieved him of something that was bugging him. Either that, or he was holding waaaay back on me earlier. His hand found my hair and his lips took over mine. His breathing was getting faster and heavier. Holy shit, what a turn-on.

I was loving every second of it . . . but the bad thing was, I knew with this level of attraction, physically and mentally, there was a snowball's chance in hell of me keeping to my own rules. The good thing about that was, I didn't care. Maybe those weren't so much rules, but instincts instead. I felt like I knew Pratt wasn't going anywhere. Even after break was over. There was something more there than just a Christmas crush or a holiday hook-up. That's how I felt about him, anyhow, but the beauty of it all was I didn't need any of those excuses. I wanted him, bad, and that was enough of a reason for me to throw all my fears out the window.

Before I knew it, my shirt was over my head and his shorts were off. My hands wandered everywhere on his body as his mouth moved to my neck and his hand slid up my stomach to my breast. I could feel him against me through his boxers, which turned me on even more. I ran my hand over his chest, down over his abs, and found him. He moaned my name into my neck, which sent me over the edge. I guided his hand down to my panties, and he tugged at them, so I lifted up. Once he got them down far enough I wiggled out of them using my feet. When I stilled, his fingers explored me. I was ready. I wanted him. All of him. I was desperate for his touch. I wanted him all over me.

But he stopped touching me, and gently pulled my hand away from him.

"Hold on, hold on." He was out of breath.

Hold on? What? No. No. No.

"Hey. Open your eyes," he said with a small laugh, and moved the hair away from my face.

I wasn't ready for the eye-opening part, but I did as he asked anyhow. He was propped up on his elbow, looking concerned.

"What are we doing?" he asked. "Are we good?"

"If I have to tell you what we're doing and how we're doing, I really overestimated you." I stuck my tongue out at him and laughed. He threw his head back and laughed quietly along with me.

"Boundaries, limits. Give 'em to me. I need to come up with my plan of attack." He emphasized the word attack and went for my neck, and I tried my best to pull him on top of me. Luckily he got the hint to move in between my legs. But then he held himself up with his arms over me, hesitating.

"How about this?" I said. "Don't talk, just do. If I don't stop you . . . don't stop. Don't ask if I'm sure . . . don't think about anything. Just. Do."

He nodded with a crooked grin and then kissed me. I wrapped my legs around him, but pulled away from his kiss.

"Waitdo me a quick favor?" I asked.

"Sure." He pulled back and sat up on his knees.

I pointed to the small end table next to my bed. "Go in that drawer right there and get me the little blue bag. Just give me what's in it, please."

He reached over and pulled out the bag. When he opened it I could see his dimple was back, with that adorable grin of his. He handed me the condoms.

"Don't think. Just do." I reminded him, and pulled him back down to me.

Chapter 8.

I woke to a very naked Pratt draped over me, and I didn't care that it was 110 degrees under him. I was happy as could be and wanted to stay that way all day with him. After I'd used the bathroom earlier, I locked the door so nobody could just walk in. I ran my fingers up his back and over his shoulder and then down the back of his arm that was across my chest. I repeated this a couple of times mindlessly until I noticed he stirred a bit and twitched when I went over certain spots. When I laughed he jumped up, scaring the shit out of me. Just as fast, he was on top of me, pinning me down by my wrists.

"Oh, so you want to play tickle tickle, huh Princess?" he joked.

I started laughing and wiggled under him, trying to break loose, but he had his full weight down on me. The air came whooshing out of my lungs as he let go of my wrists and kissed me. When he slipped his arm behind my head and hitched up my left leg, bringing us closer, I could feel him against me. Instantly my body reacted and I couldn't believe how I needed him. We must have looked like we were wrapped in a mess of Christmas lights or something, the way we were tangled up in each other. He pulled away from me, then started at my neck and worked his way down . . . Oh my. Within seconds I had the pillow over my face to muffle the sounds of my pleasure. I could feel him moving around while he was down there. I was lost on the verge of an orgasm . . . then suddenly he was in me. I didn't expect it, so I screamed. He took the pillow off of my face and got close to my ear.

"You okay?" He stilled, breathing heavily.

I couldn't exactly form words at that moment, so I nodded as I nudged against him. That's all he needed to knowif I was good, he was good. And oh yeah, I was good all right.

Breakfast was awkward, to say the least. My dad had already eaten and taken off to go bring my aunt some things and check on her. Pratt and I sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table eating our food, while my mom eyed us up. Back and forth, back and forth, she'd sip her coffee then start all over again. With a shit-eating-grin. I didn't exactly like my eggs with a side of 'my mother knows I had sex'.

I need to text Lola and let her know I completed the bucket list she made for me. Dreamboatcheck. Knock the dust outcheck. Dreamboat knocks the dust out in parent's homecheck, check, and check. The trifecta. Lola would be proud.

Pratt got up to put his plate in the sink, then his phone rang. He excused himself, and answered it in the living room. The floor plan of the house was open downstairs so it wasn't like he got much privacy. From the sound of his conversation, it was his aunt again.

"I know. I miss them too," he said quietly, and sat on the arm of the couch. "It's only been a little over a year. It's still fresh for you . . . for all of us." His voice cracked a bit.

At that point I just felt like I was intruding on a private family moment. I looked at my mom and signaled for us to leave the room. She agreed, but when we reached the steps Pratt whispered my name loudly. I turned and he waved me over to him. I looked at my mom, and she waved me off.

"Go be with him. He needs you." She gave a sympathetic smile and headed down the hall.

When I reached Pratt he put his arm around my waist and brought me in close to him, kissing my forehead. I turned my head to look for Mom but she was already gone.

"Aunt Simone. Calm down. Listen to me," he said, and then took a long pause. "I understand how you're feeling. If you want to blame yourself then I'd have to blame myself too. It was my game they were going to. But I know it wasn't my fault. It's the fault of the asshole who was too busy texting while driving his semi."

He took my hand and moved to the couch. He put his arm around me, and I leaned into him with my knees up and feet under me to the side. He was on the phone for about five more minutes, mostly quiet for the rest of the conversation. When he finished he put the phone in his pocket and exhaled.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Not really. I love my aunt but when she gets on the 'it's my fault' tangent it's usually because she's drunk or it's a holiday . . . or both," he muttered.

"Why does she blame herself? If you don't mind telling me, that is. If not that's cool. I completely understand," I said.

"Because they were on their way to pick her up before the game. Had they gotten off the exit for the university they'd never have been where they got hit. Right before her exit."

He looked at me with the saddest eyes, and it broke my heart that I couldn't help him.

"I miss my family, London. I miss them so much." He broke down and hugged me . . . hard.

Before, I thought if he lost it on me I wouldn't be able to deal with it, but I was so wrong. I simply hugged him back and ran my fingers through his hair to try and soothe him. My brother walked through the front door, but Pratt made no attempt to move. Trent looked at me with a concerned expression and I mouthed 'family' to him. He didn't understand what I was saying, so I just waved him off. Pratt sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve, then got up.

"I need the bathroom," he said, and walked out down the hall.

Trent slunk over to me. "What happened?"

"His aunt called. She was upset, which made him upset."

"Damn, it's got to be so rough on him," Trent sympathized.

"I bet," I said. "I know what it feels like to almost lose a parent but damn, your entire family? Pure hell."

"Well, we'll go out and have some fun tonight." Trent clapped and rubbed his hands together like it was his evil plan of action.

"Hat Trick's it is," I agreed.

I didn't want to hover and be a pain in the ass, but I did want to make sure Eighty-Six was okay, so I went along to the downstairs bathroom. When I saw it wasn't occupied, I checked the one upstairs. The door was closed, so I knocked.

"Pratt. You okay?" I said through the door. I waited a few moments, and when he didn't answer I knocked again. "Pratt?"

"I'm good, L. Be out in a few," he sniffed. Then I heard the shower start.

Before I walked away the door cracked open.

"You know, I'd invite you in but I don't think that's cool in your parents' house." He gave a weak smile. I stuck my face to the crack and gave him a kiss.

"You wouldn't have had the chance to invite me if they weren't home." I smiled sweetly then walked backwards away from him.

"You're killin' me, Princess." He gave me a quirked-up corner of the lips and squinted at me devilishly.

"I aim to please." I puckered up my lips and made a kissing noise. I was happy that at least he was smiling.

The rest of the day was spent out shopping some more with the family. The guys went in my dad's truck with him, while my mom and I took her car. I knew what was coming, so I just sat back and waited for it. But when she didn't say much the first few minutes, it started to bug me that she didn't ask. She was my mom. She was supposed to be nosy. I'm supposed to tell her these things.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" she answered.