BELONGS TO ME

Chapter 32 (Smut)

Camila

After the fiasco on Thanksgiving, Lauren and I have found ways to spend even more time together, be it a quick walk to class or an early morning coffee run, even a few sleepovers a week at my place.

One of the nights she was here was rather embarrassing, because my parents called pretty late, so I had to let it go to voicemail, then make myself presentable and drag Lauren into the living room with me, so I could call them back. The minute I told them she was here, my mom insisted on a FaceTime call instead, as I knew she would.

She was smitten in an instant, and my dad was won over when Lauren deflected every compliment she was given regarding Politics.

It couldn't have gone any better, and by the end of it, they invited her over for the holidays, which I had to promptly remind them they wouldn't even be home for.

Of course, that only led to Mom casually slipping in how she meant next year's Christmas—her way of claiming Lauren's a keeper.

I had to agree.

Carl is back in full force and better than ever, according to Lauren's play-by-play of recent practices I had decided to skip. The game plan they went with when Carl was hurt is being rolled out again this week, but with several adjustments on the line.

Dinah is an official starter now. She only steps off the field when the ball is turned over and it's the defense's turn.

Harry is being harry as usual.

Shawn is doing well too, I guess, but I can't even look at him, let alone speak to him.

I'm angry and with good reason.

But I wish I weren't, because rage always leads to ruin.

And it seems mine was no exception...

Lauren had to skip her workout this morning because she had an exam she had already rescheduled from their last game, so when she messaged me saying she was going to go to the stadium to use the gym she has a key for, she asked if I wanted to tag along.

She's been doing it up for about forty-minutes now, but I'm shot.

Completely winded, I step off the treadmill, snatching my towel off the railing to wipe my face, and as I turn around, I gasp, my hand freezing midair.

Lauren stands not ten feet away. Her body is angled just right, allowing me the perfect view of her obliques, clenching and unclenching as she works out her delectable arms.

I bite my lip, trailing the beads of sweat running down her neck before disappearing into her sports bra.

My breathing grows heavy, my core constricting as her muscles do with each movement she makes, sending a burning desire straight through me. Rhianna's "Skin" plays through my iPod speaker and all I can think of is the feeling of her body against mine.

My hand lifts, my fingertips skimming across my jaw, and slowly dragging down from there, past my throat, until they're sprawled across my collarbone. (lauren i hope you are hyderated)

Lauren lifts the hand weights over her head with fluid motions, her arms bending backward, her elbow bent in the air, giving me a full view of her. Her sexy scripture tattoo teasing me, begging me to touch it, to kiss it.

To run my hands along it as I have so many times, waiting for the color within her eyes to change.

To darken.

Waiting for Lauren to lose her patience and take it out on me.

When she brings her arms back to her front, she glances over and does a double take. Her eyes lock on mine, sending a bolt of electricity from my head to my toes. Goosebumps rise over every inch of me.