Without thought, my hands reached for her and pulled her up beside me, tucking her under my arm. I didn’t care that my pants and underwear were down around my thighs and my dick was out. I felt warm all over from the girl beside me, wearing only a pulled-down bra and a sexy pair of black panties.
She was out of breath like me, and we lay on the blanket, our eyes turned up to the stars, breathing together.
“How’d I do?” Her voice was husky.
“Amazing. No. What’s better than amazing?” I said. “Wait, was it a competition?”
She laughed. “If it was, you won.”
“How do you figure that? I was so loud, I think the people back at the football game you got us thrown out of heard me.”
Her hand snaked over my chest, searching, and when she found my nipple, she pinched. It didn’t hurt, but it made me laugh.
“Just so you know, getting me to . . . get there, isn’t usually easy.”
What was she talking about?
Oh.
“Really?” I’d made her come in the back seat of my car, and there’s no way she’d faked the orgasm. And tonight, with how her body had contracted and pulsed, I’d bet my starting position her climax had been real.
It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but she seemed to blush. “Yeah.”
I squeezed her tighter. It was more proof this thing between us could work, despite the rivalry she was so hung up on.
Our kiss afterward was slow and tame, but really fucking nice, too. There was still plenty of heat and sex between us, but the relaxed feeling was enjoyable. Like we could hang out here all night, even though we couldn’t.
When the kiss ended, I watched her throat dip as she swallowed hard. “You start camp next week?”
“Yeah. Expect radio silence from me.” It was the only time the NCAA let the coaches practice us as much as they wanted. It was brutal, non-stop football, and us players had to drag our beaten bodies into bed at ten p.m. so we had enough energy to repeat it the following day.
She squirmed out of my arms and began to put her clothes back in place. “My dad was a coach, I know how it goes.”
I followed her lead and pulled my pants up. “How come he’s not coaching anymore?”
“He still does, just at the high school level.” She ducked her head into her tank top and tugged it on. “Head coaches usually take their staff with them wherever they go, but when Coach Warren went to Kansas, my dad decided to stay here in Ohio.” She lay back down on her side, facing me. “His team made it to state last year. Their defense was awesome.”
I fumbled a hand over the cooler bag. “You want a beer?”
“No, thanks. I need to drive home tonight.”
I pulled a can from the bag. “Me, too. One beer isn’t going to do anything.”
“I’m a lot smaller than you, Eighty-Eight.”
I smirked. At least she hadn’t called me a giant. “Okay. Wanna split one?” She nodded. I sat up on my elbows, fished out a can of Osterh?gen beer, and popped the top. “Ladies first.”
I passed a can off to her. It probably hadn’t been the best choice, but I hadn’t had time to hit a liquor store. There was a water bottle in my car, maybe I should grab that. But hell, I didn’t want to leave. I’d been looking forward to tonight all week.
I slid my hand around her waist. “So, when are we gonna see each other again?”
She paused mid-sip, and her eyes widened. The beer was slowly lowered and handed back to me. “I don’t know.”
I flexed the muscles of my jaw, annoyed she was already back to blowing me off—
She startled. “I mean, I’m a student-athlete too. My schedule’s kind of intense.”
“Oh. Right.” I drank a long sip of the beer.
“There’s also the fact our schools are three hours from each other.”
If she thought she was going to talk her way out of seeing me again, she had another thing coming. When she’d hopped over the fence at the football game, I decided to chase after her—
In every way possible.
“Yeah,” I said. “The distance and our schedules will make it a challenge,” I grinned, “but did I happen to mention how much I like those?”
-16-
KAYLA
The first game of the season was a whirlwind. I glanced up at the scoreboard, watching the seconds tick down. Less than two minutes left before halftime, and we were already crushing Maryland by twenty-one points. The crowd before me was buzzing. The only time it ever went silent was for an injury or an interception. And when we scored? The sweet sound was deafening.
“O-H!” I yelled with my cheerleading squad, shaking my red and silver pom-poms up above my head.
“I-O!” the crowd answered in a unified voice.
It thundered through me like a euphoric drug.
At the sound of a whistle, I turned around. I stood on the strip of grass at the edge of the field near the end zone and glanced down to the boys at the other end. Maryland was having a tough time getting the ball out of their own side of the field, which meant I’d have a tough time watching the play.
Without flicking my gaze up to the clock, I knew we’d hit less than a minute left in the game because the band was filing down out of their seats, readying to perform for halftime. I put my fisted pom-poms on my hips, and something bright and shiny caught my eye. I grinned when I saw an enormous bell of silver headed my way.
“Hey! Did you get it?” I asked him before he’d even reached me.
Chuck was all smiles, which only meant one thing. I’d seen him on game days plenty of times before. Sometimes the marching band’s day started before the cheerleaders’ did, and the sousaphone my friend held weighed thirty-five pounds. It could be grueling for him, but today he stood tall in his black uniform and hat.
“Did you get what?” one of the freshman cheerleaders asked, giving Chuck a friendly smile.
“I’m dotting the ‘I’ at the Michigan game,” he said.
She looked at him like he was speaking Latin.
“The marching band does a formation called Script Ohio. A senior sousaphone gets to dot the ‘I.’ It’s a big honor,” I added.
“Oh, cool.” Her smile was genuine. “Congrats!”
“Thanks.” Chuck swiveled back to face me, temporarily blinding me when sunlight glared off the shiny bell of his enormous tuba. When I averted my gaze, it landed on a cute brunette with a bubbly smile standing down by the twenty-yard line. With the formal marching band uniforms and hair tucked into hats, sometimes it was hard to pick out specific people, but I knew it was her. She held a trombone in her hands, and chatted with another girl, so I could see her profile.
“What does Beth think about you getting the spot for The Game?” I said, teasing him.
His gaze went to the trombone girl he’d been pining over. “Haven’t the faintest clue.”
“I don’t get how you can march next to someone all of last year and not utter a single word.”
He gave me a pointed look. “Not everyone’s type A like you. I talked to her once.”
“Yeah? What’d you say?”
Chuck’s gaze dropped abruptly and he fiddled with a valve on his sousaphone. “She asked if she was in the diagonal. I said, yeah.”
I blinked slowly. “Impressive.”