"Why?" she asks, her eyes flashing. She looks up at me, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and all I can think about doing is pulling it between mine.
"Because I was pissed the hell off," I say, irritated with even having to think about that again. "I didn't like him talking about my girl like that."
"Your girl?" She doesn't ask it; she states it like she's challenging me. "The one you hated because of the thesis?"
"You hated me because of Dillon," I growl back. "And yeah, my girl."
"Maybe I don't want to be your girl."
"You're so damn irritating."
Her eyes narrow. "So are you," she blurts back, her hands on her hips again. "You're infuriating. And you're stubborn, arrogant, and hot-headed."
"You're high-strung and uptight and way too fucking serious," I say. Somehow I'm so close to her now.
"Yeah, then why did you bring me out here?"
"Because training started and I should be thinking about football," I explain, exasperated, "but I can't fucking sleep, alright? I'm lying in the back of this stupid truck and all I smell is you on my damn pillows and it's making me crazy. Which means I can't fucking train because I'm so damn tired."
"So you brought me here to lecture me on how I'm screwing up your training?"
"Goddamn it, Cassie, stop talking." I growl the words because I'm done arguing with her, and I'm done not touching her, and I'm sure as hell done not having her in my bed.
"Don't tell me to stop –" she starts, but I plant my lips on hers before she can finish. She melts against me like she's made to fit right here in my arms, and when my tongue finds hers there's no question that this is where I'm supposed to be.
This girl feels like home. She feels like a place of calm, the eye in the middle of the storm. She's mine and I don't want to let her go.
She slides her hands underneath my shirt, her palms moving across my chest, and she lets out a sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan, as she slips her hands to my back and pulls me against her.
When I come up for air, she sucks in a deep breath. Her hand flies to her mouth, her fingers touching her swollen lips. "Colton," she says, her voice breathy.
"Say that again."
I missed hearing the way she says my name.
"Colton," she repeats. She grabs a handful of my t-shirt and pulls me to her, her back against the side of the truck. When my hard cock presses against her thigh, she groans.
I pause, feeling guilty for even touching her after that asshole mauled her with his hands. She might be traumatized. I'm sure this isn't the way I'm supposed to handle something like this. "Cassie, I don't know—"
She looks at me, her eyes flashing, like she can read my mind. "Don't you dare tell me you're feeling bad about touching me because some dickhead grabbed my boob. Seriously, if you treat me like I'm some fragile little thing for even a second, we're going to have a problem —"
I kiss her again. I don't know how long I kiss her – minutes or hours, it doesn't matter – I don't want to stop kissing her. I want her body against mine forever.
Then, I pause long enough to tell her what I've realized. "I need you, Cassie."
Not I want you.
I need you.
She whimpers, palming my cock over my jeans. "I need you too," she says. "I need you inside me now."
I pull up the sides of her skirt and hook my thumbs under her panties, dropping them to the ground. My hand goes between her thighs, and when I touch her, she's soaked.
"No, Cassie," I say. I can barely think straight when my fingers are where they are like this, but I want to make her understand what I couldn't say before. "I need you. Not just like this, I mean. I fucking need you. Like, I don't want to let you go again need you."
"I know," she whispers, "but if you don't shut up and put your cock inside me right now I'm going to come on your fingers."
"Damn it, Cassie."
She fumbles with the button on my jeans and yanks them over my ass. When I start to take them all the way off, she shakes her head. "Now, Colton."
Reaching under her hips, I pick her up and pin her against the truck, guiding my cock inside her slick pussy in one swift movement. The sound she makes when I enter her is low in her throat, like a feral animal, and it ignites something in me that makes me want to fuck this girl into oblivion. She wraps her legs around me, her hands at my neck, and moans as I thrust into her. "Harder, harder," are her only demands.
I pull her hair back as I fuck her, turning her face toward me so I can kiss the hell out of my girl. I catch her lip between my teeth and kiss her so hard, I think I taste blood, except she pants, "Don't stop," when I hesitate.
She's tight and wet and whimpering in my ear, her breath short. This isn't what I envisioned when I thought about making up with her. I wanted to fuck her slowly, tenderly, bringing her to the edge with my tongue again and again before finally being inside her.
This is just straight up fucking.