Page 70 of The Substitute

“That would be horrifying.” I don’t like sitting here exposed like this. I want to get dressed, but is that weird?

He wipes the cum up with a warm, damp towel, then dries my skin with the other one. “Depends on what you were thinking about?”

The towels get discarded, and he hands me my sweats, which I quickly slide on. I sit on the edge of the bed, but now it’s awkward. Is he going to stay? Is he going to leave? I don’t want to be alone anymore, and Ambrose is out of town for a fucking game because of course he is.

And will this be a thing now? Or is he done now that he’s gotten off with me?

Oh my God, I was naked.

In front of him.

He jerked me off.

I jerked him off.

My face heats, and I drop my head toward my lap, needing a second to get my shit together.

Savage cups my cheeks and lifts my face to his. He watches me for a long second, then kisses my forehead.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

My hands reach for him without thought, and I grip his wrists, needing the anchor in the here and now.

“Breathe with me.” Savage takes a slow, deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out. I don’t realize how close I am to hyperventilating until I open my mouth and a sob comes out.

Could you be any more embarrassing? Two pump chump, and now you’re crying?

“Talk to me,” he says against my skin.

“I-i-its st-stupid,” I stutter, gasping for air.

“Shhh, breathe.” Savage lifts one of my hands from his arm and flattens it out on his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. He doesn’t take his hand away but keeps pressure on mine.

He’s going to leave and not come back. Block your phone number.

“Breathe with me, focus just on the air going into and out of your lungs.”

I clench my eyes closed and press my face into his stomach to breathe him in. Savage runs his fingers through my hair, and it helps me focus enough to slow my breathing.

“There you go. Good.”

We stay like that a little longer until the embarrassment starts to filter in, and I sit up.

“Are you thirsty?” He brushes the hair out of my face and uses a finger under his chin to tilt my head up.

I nod, and he looks around but doesn’t find anything. “I’m going to go grab you some water from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, and he puts on his sweats, which I’m a little bitter about, then leaves.

Why am I like this?

I still feel vulnerable, naked, exposed, but I don’t know where my shirt went. Looking around, I find Savage’s hoodie and don’t let myself question it, just yank it on over my head and scoot back on the bed to lean against the headboard.

He comes back in with a water bottle and smiles at me. “That’s, what, the second or third hoodie of mine you’ve stolen?” He opens the bottle and hands it to me.

“Second. You can have the other one back. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.” I take a drink and decide I’m parched, so I chug the whole thing.

“Does it smell like you?”