Page 141 of Endgame

Turning me in his arms, Rourke pressed a kiss to my shoulder and sighed, the heat of his breath causing me to shake even more.

Sagging against him, I allowed him to take on my weight, as his fingers trailed over my skin.

He had a loofah in one hand, and when he pressed it between my legs, a low moan escaped me. My body ached, I was still sore, but that didn’t stop my skin from igniting in a burst of desire the moment he put his hands on me.

Rourke never said a word as he gently washed the blood from my body before working on himself.

When he was finished cleaning us, he pressed another kiss to my neck and whispered, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

What could I say to that?

You’re welcome?

I love you?

I want to keep you forever?

I didn’t know what to say or how to act now. I knew exactly how I felt about Rourke, but I wasn’t sure of his feelings.

Well, Iknewhe liked me, but I wasn’t entirely sure how deep that like went. Did he like me the way a guy liked a girl he had just slept with, or did it run deeper?

Rourke called me his girlfriend today, but what did that mean for him?

I wanted to be brave enough to ask him straight.

To be the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid of a guy’s rejection.

I’d never been afraid before, but now?

Now, I was clueless.

Of course, I ended up not saying anything at all. Keeping all of my thoughts safely locked up in my mind, I turned in Rourke’s arms and kissed him instead.

Mercedes - One Month Later

EVERYTHING CHANGED AFTER THAT DAY. My plans, my goals, what I thought I wanted and needed? It all changed. At the time, I hadn’t realized what a monumental moment in my life it was; climbing into his car, climbing into his bed, choosing to take a risk with him. That slope I had been teetering on since July had finally given out beneath my feet in tremendous fashion. And even now, I was still falling; slip sliding and tumbling blindly for a boy whose only promise to me was that he wouldn’t keep me forever.

Rourke’s warnings when we first got together should have been enough to make me rethink having a relationship with him, but they weren’t because I was in love with him.

There was no point in denying it anymore; not after spending every waking hour of the past month with him.

It felt like the moment accepted Rourke’s offer of friendship, something inside of me gave way, allowing Rourke the power to take over every waking hour of my day.

During the daytime, I watched him from a distance, sat beside him in class when I could, and thought about him all day long.

At night, I waited for him to come to my room, heart hammering in my chest, nervous butterflies flapping around in my stomach. Every single night, I would lay in my bed waiting in wistful anticipation for the moment the mattress dipped beneath me and I was in his arms again, our bodies fused together, desperate and needy.

I was in love with him. It made me weak and incredibly stupid, but there it was. Rourke Owens had taken ahold of my heart and I knew I wouldn’t be getting it back anytime soon.

When I was with him, I felteverything.Every single emotion I had spent my whole life denying existed. An intense connection. A deep, yearning need. This burning ache in my chest.All of it…

“YOU HAVE TO COME TONIGHT.” It was Friday afternoon and we were in our last class of the day. I had hoped to put my head down and learn something. Molly, however, had other ideas. “You’re Rourke’sgirlfriend,” she hissed in my ear for the third time since class started almost an hour ago “How do you think it will look for the poor guy if you don’t bother showing up to a single one of his games?”

“I’ve told you a million times,” I shot back, forcing down the urge to choke her into shutting up about the stupid game tonight. “I don’t like football.”

Since it was public knowledge that I was dating our school’s star wide receiver, people kept coming up to me to tell me how excited they were about the game, and asking me how many touchdowns did I think Rourke would make.

One guy even had the audacity to ask me if I could somehow persuade to score a specific number of touchdowns; apparently, he had a lot of money riding on Rourke’s performance tonight and was willing to split his winnings with me if I persuaded my boyfriend to score at specific times during the game.

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