Against All Odds (Holt Hockey Book 2)
Against All Odds: Chapter 17

To: aphillips@holt.edu

From: rkeller@holt.edu

Subject: Tutoring

Hey Aidan,

I’m sick and can’t make tutoring tonight. Attaching this week’s assignment from Professor Carringan for you to look over. We’ll review it next week.

Best,

Rylan

Ignaw on my bottom lip, rereading the email I drafted to send to Aidan for the twentieth time. I’m aiming for a casual yet professional tone, something that doesn’t suggest I spent a ridiculous amount of time writing and reviewing this.

Or that I’m feeling uncomfortable about how our last tutoring session ended.

And most of all, I’m trying to ensure he doesn’t think this is a lame excuse to avoid seeing him.

I’m annoyed I’m sick, and not just because feeling crappy sucks. Because I’d like to get this awkwardness out of the way as soon as possible. But short of attaching a photo of me mid-cough with a red, dripping nose, I have no clue how to prove to Aidan this email isn’t an excuse to evade him.

I add Congrats on the win, delete Congrats on the win, and then hit send.

Quit out of my email before a response could possibly come through, and slump back against the pillows. I started feeling stuffed up last night, then woke up with a sore throat and a cough. Dragged myself to my morning class, then came home before lunch and changed into sweatpants.

I’ve been in bed ever since, chugging sports drinks packed with electrolytes and nibbling on some crackers I found in one of the cabinets. I feel too shitty to make myself a full meal and am quarantining in my room to avoid getting my roommates sick, since that’s a certain way to become the least popular person in the house.

I’m planning to take some cold medicine in an hour and hoping a solid night’s sleep will mean I feel better in the morning. If not, I’ll text my mom and take advantage of the fact she only lives ten minutes away now to have her come take care of me.

After scrolling on social media for a little bit, I attempt to do the reading for my Philosophy class. Give up, after only a few pages, and start watching a comedy on my laptop.

The opening credits are still rolling on the small screen when I hear a knock.

Not on my door, on my window.

I sit up in bed, sniffling before I climb off the mattress, keeping my blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Creep over to the curtain and pull it back.

Aidan is outside.

I stand, stunned. Then mouth Go away.

He shakes his head.

I glance over one shoulder at my shut door. I texted all my roommates to let them know I was sick. Chloe has already tapped on my door twice, asking if I need anything. I really don’t want them overhearing this conversation, and I wouldn’t put it past Aidan to walk around to the front door if I refuse to let him in this way. Surprised he didn’t do that in the first place, actually.

Reluctantly, I flick the lock on the window open and tug the sash up an inch. Shiver, when a gust of frigid air invades my warm room. There’s no screen on the window, which might become an issue in May.

I step back, tightening my grasp on the blanket wrapped around me.

Aidan opens the window as wide as it’ll go and climbs inside like he’s done it a thousand times before, quickly shutting it behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.

I feel awful and am well aware I look terrible, and I’m irritated I care he’s seeing me like this—in ratty sweats, wearing no makeup with a runny nose.

Aidan glances down. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I left it outside.”

He turns and reopens the window. Leans low, treating me to a spectacular view of his muscular ass, and then returns with a brown paper bag in hand that he sets on my desk before closing the window once again. “I know you’re supposed to bring sick people chicken noodle soup, or whatever, but I don’t know where to get that from and I was already getting Mexican.”

I stare at the bag. “You brought me dinner?” I ask, just as shocked as when I saw him outside my window.

Aidan nods. “You said you were sick.”

I don’t miss the thread of suspicion in his voice as he looks me over, one corner of his mouth lifting as he takes in my bedraggled appearance.

“I am sick,” I tell him.

His small smirk turns into a full, wide smile. “Yeah, I know. Your nose looks like Rudolph’s.”

“Shut up.” I grab the bag off my desk and open it, my stomach grumbling at the delicious smells wafting from it.

I recognize the logo printed on the side of the bag from the Mexican place in Loughton. One of my favorite restaurants.

He has good taste in food.

“What are you watching?” Aidan asks, pulling off his Holt Hockey jacket. He drapes it on the back of my desk chair and nods toward my open laptop. He’s wearing an unbuttoned flannel with the sleeves rolled up underneath.

I pause, mid-unwrapping my food. “You’re staying?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I’m definitely contagious. It’s a terrible time for you to get sick, right when you’re finally contributing to the team.”

Holt advanced from the first round of the playoffs, mostly thanks to him. Aidan scored two goals in the team’s four-one victory over Barnett.

Aidan grins. “Just following your instructions, tutor.”

I’m not sure what possessed me to tell him to kick ass. I was planning to ignore Aidan—ignore all the hockey players looking at me like I was a zoo animal as they waited to board the bus to their first playoff game—uncomfortable and annoyed with myself for not getting to my dad’s office earlier. I’d wanted to quickly wish him luck before the team left, that was it, but all the guys showed up at the rink a lot earlier than I thought they would.

Aidan’s flannel gets stripped off next, leaving him in a cotton T-shirt. “Your room is sweltering.”

I guess…he’s staying.

“I know.” I turned up the thermostat when I got home, after shivering all morning. “I’m sick,” I remind him.

“Thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

I focus on my food, pulling the foil off the burrito so carefully it comes away in one piece without a single tear. “No, I wouldn’t…” I exhale. “I’m sorry I took off last week. I know you’re busy and that you have a lot riding on passing the retake. I shouldn’t have left without reviewing the assignment with you. That was really unprofessional, and I—”

“You think that’s what I care about? That you never reviewed the assignment?”

“I mean…yeah. You’re taking your responsibilities seriously, remember? So far, you’ve aced everything I’ve given you, so I don’t think you actually need to worry about passing the second time. But I want to make sure that you do, and I shouldn’t have left. So I’m sorry. I just…freaked out a little.”

I tell all of that to the burrito he brought me, unable to meet his eyes.

“I was worried you were avoiding me because I was worried you were avoiding me, Rylan. I wasn’t worried you were avoiding me because I’m mad you left or worried about re-failing the final.”

“Oh. Okay.”

In my tiny room, Aidan’s presence is overwhelming.

I can smell his cologne mixed with a whiff of laundry detergent every time I sniffle. The scent saturates the air surrounding me. And no matter where I look, I can feel his gaze fixed on me.

Finally, I muster the courage to look up and make eye contact. He’s leaning against the side of my mattress, which is a strange enough sight. But the look he’s giving me is weird too. There’s no playful smirk or easygoing grin. His gaze is intense, bordering on searching. He’s serious and focused—on me.

“Best in Show,” I tell him.

Now he looks puzzled. “What?”

“You asked what I was watching. Best in Show. You wanna watch?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I nod, using one hand to keep my blanket wrapped around my shoulders and carrying my burrito in the other as I climb back onto my bed. The mattress dips as Aidan settles beside me, tucking one arm behind his head. His T-shirt rides up, flashing a very distracting view of the few inches above the low-riding waistband of his joggers. The sight heats me more effectively than the blanket I’m basically swaddled in.

“What’s this movie about?” he asks me as I take a seat cross-legged beside him so I can lean over the wrapper while I eat.

“A dog show,” I answer.

His only response is a hum.

“Do you have one?”

“A dog? No. Well, I guess I did, sort of. We had a golden for a little bit, but my dad gave it away to one of the housekeepers when he got sick of it. Said it wasn’t contributing anything to the family. My dad’s big on contributing.” He scoffs, then shifts on the bed, revealing more of his abs.

“Every time you tell me something about your dad, I like him less.”

Aidan snorts. “Yeah. Join the club.” Then he sobers, tapping his fingers on his chest. “He’s not a bad guy. Just…selfish. Detached. He worked his ass off to make certain we had the best of everything, didn’t inherit any of his money. My mom was the rich princess with a trust fund.”

“How’d they meet?”

“College. I don’t know where exactly. I’m sure my mom was the queen bee on campus and my dad was a tech nerd with a lot of big ideas. Doubt they crossed paths a ton.”

Sounds like us.

Except he’s the popular one and I have no big ideas. I’m just trying to make it to senior year.

I swallow the last bite of my burrito. “Thanks for bringing dinner. You really didn’t need to do that.”

Rather than acknowledge my appreciation, he asks, “Have you gotten food from that place before?”

I nod, balling up the wrapper and setting it on my bedside table. “A bunch of times.”

I lie down next to him, grateful for the barrier of my open laptop between us as I hit Play and resume the movie.

Aidan doesn’t talk during the film, which is a relief because that’s a pet peeve of mine. But he does laugh a lot, and at most of the same parts I do.

When the screen goes dark and the credits start to scroll, I’m disappointed.

I wait for him to get up and leave.

Instead, Aidan rolls his head to look at me and asks, “What the hell happened on Tuesday?”

My fingers replace the hem of my blanket and start playing with it nervously. I thought we were past this. We acknowledged it happened, I apologized for taking off. The end.

“I didn’t think I’d need to explain the concept of a blowjob to the campus playboy. That’s what happened.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “So I’m the campus playboy, huh? Is that what you meant by knowing me? You’re judging me for enjoying myself, Rylan?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, I’m not judging you. I just meant you’re more experienced. And I, uh, it was…” I swallow. Glance away, busying myself with closing the laptop screen. “We don’t need to talk about it. It happened, and I said I was sorry for leaving right after. If you want to switch to working with a different tutor, then I’m sure that—”

“Rylan.” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

Heat spreads from that one spot where he’s touching me, throughout my entire body, warming me for the first time all day.

“Forget about the tutoring shit. It has nothing to do with this. There’s nothing for you to apologize for. And I want to talk about what happened.”

“Why? So you can leave a review or something?” I fight the urge to break eye contact. It’s overwhelming, having him here, in my bed, close enough to touch. “Is that what you do with all your girls?”

“All my girls—” Aidan shakes his head. “Will you stop talking about other girls? I’m talking about you and me, no one else. And what the fuck does leave a review mean?”

“I’m sure you’ve gotten a lot of head, is all.”

A tiny bit of vulnerability sneaks into my voice. I was in no way prepared to actually talk about this with him. I just assumed we’d both move on, pretend it never happened.

Now, he looks amused. “Wait, you think it wasn’t good? That I’m bringing it up to give you pointers?”

I cover my face with my hands. Exhale, worried I might suffocate from humiliation. “Can you just…go? Please? I don’t feel well, and I don’t get why any of it matters.”

There’s a long pause, during which I wish I could see his face. “Can I make you feel better?”

I don’t lower my hands. “If you want to bring over the bottle of cold medicine on my desk before you go, that’ll help.”

Aidan laughs, low and husky. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

I’m too curious not to look at him.

When I pull my hands away, he’s rolled over onto one elbow, way too close to me.

I can make out the lighter shades of green flecked in his eyes. The few freckles on his nose. The thin, faded scar in one corner of his lip. An old hockey injury, probably.

“I didn’t get to touch you.”

I shiver, and not because I’m cold. Because of the way he says that, like it’s a privilege. Like it’s a treat he missed out on. A gift he didn’t get to unwrap.

“Can I?” he asks.

Slowly, I nod. I’m having trouble pulling in enough air all of a sudden, and it has nothing to do with being congested. My thighs clench together, trying to alleviate the ache there that’s started throbbing.

Aidan’s touch is light as his hand lands on my hip, gently tugging the blanket away and revealing the hole-y pair of sweatpants I’ve had since high school. His thumb slips inside the elastic waistband, rubbing back and forth lightly.

I exhale as every nerve ending sparks to life.

And…I forget.

I forget about my stuffy nose and sore throat.

I forget he’s a hockey player.

I forget I’m tutoring him.

I’m only aware of his touch, of needing more of it and needing it lower, everything else fading to the background.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

He shifts so he’s hovering above me, one quick tug taking care of the drawstring holding up the soft material of my sweatpants and another pull removing them entirely. I’m left in a pair of boring cotton underwear, not what I would have chosen to wear had I known he was going to see me like this.

And striped fuzzy socks, another unfortunate, unsexy choice.

But Aidan hasn’t looked that low. He’s focused on the wet spot I can feel rubbing against my swollen clit.

“You want that review now?”

“What?” My voice sounds a million miles away.

He’s dragging my underwear down my legs so slowly, and each inch is an erotic torture. My breathing is already embarrassingly fast and I’m sure my face is bright red.

“The review of your blowjob.” Shockingly, he keeps a straight face through that sentence.

I manage a scoff. “Are you seriously—fuck.”

He’s pushing a finger inside of me. My entire body arches, enjoying the sweet relief of finally getting filled there. Trying to get closer to his touch. He’s playing my body like I’m an instrument and he’s an expert musician, applying pressure to the perfect spot.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone since Aidan, but there was a much longer dry spell before we met in Colorado. So I think it’s him, not that I’m eager for an orgasm.

“Location was an interesting choice. There was a metal shelf digging into my spine and the fifth floor smells kind of musty. It was super quiet, which I thought I’d hate, but was actually kind of hot. I liked how I could hear you sucking, not just watch. Especially when you made those breathy little sighs. I could feel them in your throat but then also hear you.”

I don’t know if I should look horrified or start laughing. He’s actually doing this, fingering me while reviewing our last hookup.

And if I wasn’t already so wet, he’d be able to tell how much it’s turning me on.

“Only downside is that I’m not sure how I’ll be able to study there again without thinking about it. Not that I studied there much before, or at all really, but still. We might need to relocate our tutoring sessions if you want me to be paying attention to anything you’re saying instead of thinking about your mouth on me. And then the way you took off when it sounded like someone was coming was disappointing. Since it was before I could do this.”

He leans down, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

I can’t control the “Fuck” that explodes out of my mouth at the first swipe.

As far as my roommates know, I’m in my room alone and sick. I’d really rather they don’t wonder why I’m in here moaning. I bite down on my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood as he licks me again, my fingers fisting the comforter and my heels digging into the soft fabric. My hips lift in a shameless attempt to get closer to his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good.” He presses a wet kiss to the divot inside my hipbone, then returns to tonguing my entrance.

I writhe, barely recognizing the needy sounds coming out of my mouth when he pulls away. He’s stripped me down to the most primal of urges. I don’t care about anything except coming.

“So, overall, I’d give location a four out of five,” Aidan continues in a conversational tone.

I whimper as his fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. My hips jerk involuntarily, silently begging for him to move higher. This intensity is new and overwhelming. Fooling around has always felt good. But it’s never been this consuming urge, never been this torment of feeling like my world might end if he stops touching me.

His fingers trail down instead of up, drawing light circles on my skin that feel like being brushed by feathers. Soft and stimulating.

My growl is annoyed as I open my knees so wide I can feel the inside of my thighs protesting the stretch. I’m so turned on it feels like the pulse in my pussy has spread throughout my entire body.

I’m close. So close. Teetering at the edge, craving that final push.

“Is the library a favorite math major spot?” Aidan teases.

I’m too desperate for release to manage a coherent conversation. Or get annoyed he’s teasing me about my major again.

“Shut up,” I groan.

“I thought you wanted a review, Rylan. Something you’d rather I do with my mouth?”

Breathlessly, I nod, moving my head to the side so I can see him better. Most of my hair has come out of the bun I had it pulled back in earlier, now a messy halo spread across the comforter.

“And take your shirt off,” I tell him.

The sight of his head between my legs is hot. But his shirt is blocking my view of his shoulders and biceps tensing as he touches me.

Aidan’s eyes dance with arrogant amusement at the request—whatever, it’s not like he had no clue I’m attracted to him—but he says nothing as he rises up onto his knees, then smoothly tugs the cotton shirt up and over his head. He’s just as ridiculously ripped as he was in the hot tub weeks ago. And this is better, because I can see him more clearly, just like in the library. A faded, green-gray bruise stretches across part of his side.

I lift my foot, lightly tapping the old injury with my sock. “What happened?”

“Hockey.” He leans over, treating me to a look at his impressive muscles in motion.

I clench around nothing, tempted to tell him to ditch his pants so I can admire his cock again too.

Aidan lies down beside me before I can say a word.

I don’t move, not sure what’s happening. He knows I haven’t finished yet, and my impatient body is making it impossible for me to forget.

“Come sit,” he says, tapping his chin.

My eyes widen when I realize what he means. A reaction I know Aidan doesn’t miss, because his attention is laser-focused on me. He doesn’t laugh or tease me, though. Just waits patiently as I sit up and crawl toward him, new bursts of arousal pumping through my system. Every experience I have with Aidan is going to include firsts, I guess.

“Other way,” he instructs when I reach him. “So you can appreciate my abs.”

I have no smart response to the mirth in his voice.

I lower my hips slowly. Aidan is having none of it.

He positions me exactly where he wants me, and then starts licking. With each swipe, more of my uncertainty disappears, until I’m grinding and rubbing against his mouth. The only thing that feels better than touching his hot, firm chest is his talented tongue between my thighs.

This angle is…too much. I’m spread open, completely exposed and at the mercy of his mouth. Aidan’s grip is tight on my hips, holding me in place as the pleasure and pressure continue to build.

I can see the outline of his erection through the joggers he’s wearing. And I moan, registering that’s a reaction to me riding his face.

I want to lean forward and take him in my mouth, but it’s another thing I’ve never done before. I’d rather Aidan didn’t replace that out. Maybe if he thinks I’m selfish in bed, he’ll lose interest in hooking up again.

Except…I’m not sure that’s what I want.

There’s no relief when I think about him leaving me alone.

Pleasure flares hotter and pressure winds tighter and then I explode, my entire body contracting as I come with a loud cry, harder than I ever have before.

And my mind goes blissfully, beautifully blank.