“Did you just lick me?” he asks with a snicker.
“Smell like dessert. Taste like ocean,” is the excuse I give him.
That’s not even an excuse. That’s a random string of words.
My eyes fly open and I cling to Austin at the sudden sensation of falling.
“Don’t worry, Goose, I’ve got you,” he whispers, settling us into an overstuffed armchair. We’re sitting back with his friends, where he was happily being manhandled by Barbie before I cannonballed into his evening. The same group I watched most of the night are now staring down at me and Austin. He’s unfazed by the attention as he leans back in the chair and adjusts me in his lap, not letting go.
Three simple words. I’ve got you. And I’m at ease. I trust him completely.
When did that happen? Is it just the alcohol?
No.
The licking, yes.
That’s entirely the alcohol’s fault.
But the way I feel in Austin’s arms, that’s all him. I shamelessly snuggle into his chest. If I’m going to have to live with the regrets from tonight, I might as well take advantage where I can.
He tries to pull my tiny dress down over my exposed thighs. It’s a sweet gesture, but it only serves to expose more of my chest, which is literally right under his nose.
“Not enough dress. Jackie’s fault,” I explain my wardrobe choice like a petulant five-year-old.
“Remind me to thank her later.” His voice is playful. And, dare I say, lustful?
“Who’s your new friend, Jacobs?” a guy’s voice calls to us from the couch.
“People shake hands still,” I mumble as my hand shoots out toward him. “Elizabeth Wilde.” I shift forward, nearly falling out of Austin’s lap introducing myself. I earn a laugh from everyone except Austin.
“Careful, or my teammates are going to get an eyeful of what I haven’t even gotten to see yet,” Austin warns as he tugs me back against him before his friend can shake my hand. I gasp, realizing what he means, and instinctively cover my chest with my arms.
“You clean up nice. Even got that brown spot off your nose,” one of the guys chides with a sneer. It’s King of the Douchebags from my biochem class. Great.
“Rude much?” I snap back. I’m never confrontational, but between the liquid courage coursing through my body and Austin at my back, I rise to the occasion. I’m used to guys like him. Bullies. There are a lot of jerks with huge egos in my pre-med courses. Some of them seem to have a problem with the fact that I don’t talk to anyone and usually ace the class. I’m not an elitist, but that’s how it seems from the outside. Sometimes I wish I could get over myself and make friends.
Be normal.
If it hasn’t happened after twenty-one years, it’s not going to. So, I’ll stay painfully shy and unimaginably awkward and deal with jerks who draw the wrong conclusion about who I am.
“Calm down, Princess. You aren’t in that ice palace of yours anymore. Your sweet little ass is in my house now.” He isn’t playful like Austin. He’s mean.
“You got a problem, Montgomery?” Austin’s voice is harsher than I’ve ever heard it before.
From across the room, I thought Austin was surrounded by his friends, laughing and loving life. Sitting here with him now is different, like he’s on stage. We’re putting on a show. These are his teammates, not his friends.
“No problem. Just surprised at your new piece. She acts like she’s God’s gift. But clearly she’s lowered her standards if she’s picking up strays now.”
Austin’s body goes rigid with anger underneath me.
Montgomery leans in and whisper-shouts, “Heads up, though, she’s probably a rug muncher, being Haynes’ favorite and all.”
“Chill out, Monte,” one of the other guys sitting with us says, giving him a little shoulder shove. Austin gives the other guy a slight nod in recognition. I’ve exhausted my bravery and sink into Austin.
Desperate to take the attention off me, I spot Barbie-Jessie coming back across the room and decide to be nice and continue my introductions.
“And this is Barbie!” I exclaim enthusiastically.
“Barbie?” a few of the guys call out and laugh. I didn’t mean to get her name wrong. I don’t think.
“Here.” She shoves a bottle of water into Austin’s chest. I don’t know Barbie-Jessie, but even I can hear the anger in her voice.
“Drink this. Slowly,” Austin demands, handing me the bottle. I sip it, as directed.
“I’m heading home,” Barbie-Jessie adds with a pout.
“Fine,” Austin responds without even looking up. I feel bad for her. I honestly do. I know how it feels to be the center of Austin’s attention. It’s like stepping out of a cave and feeling the warm sun after a long, cold winter. It’s living instead of just surviving. Losing it is to step back into the darkness. I could easily be in her shoes, being summarily dismissed by the sexiest man alive.
“Sorry, Barbie.” I mean it genuinely, but the use of her nickname, which I can’t seem to stop saying, makes it sound passive-aggressive and super-bitchy. Barbie, I mean Jessie, slinks off without another word.
“Damn, new girl. That was cold,” the guy who defended me earlier quips.
“Told you. She’s the ice queen,” Monte adds. Suddenly my stomach doesn’t feel so good.
“Shut the fuck up, Monte,” Austin snarls. Monte huffs and sips his beer.
“I didn’t mean…” I try to explain, but I can’t find the words.
“That’s enough.” Austin stands in a single motion, holding me to his chest as if I’m light as a feather. I’m nauseated from the movement, but the simple demonstration of how powerful he is still turns me on. I can’t help myself from moaning in his ear as he carries me back to his room.
“Easy,” he warns. “Nothing’s happening tonight.”
Nothing did, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed about that.
Chapter Seven
Austin
It’s early as fuck to be calling it on a Friday night, but between Monte trying to start shit and Elizabeth drunk off her ass, I’m fucking done. I make Elizabeth drink some water, peel her out of that ridiculous excuse for a dress and put her in one of my T-shirts. I lay her down in my bed and she passes out almost immediately, dead to the world.
I flop down next to her, too pissed to sleep. Pissed she’s wasted. Pissed some other guy was touching her. Pissed Monte was staring at her tits.
She fucking licked me.
I chuckle softly, gazing at the crumpled mess beside me, snoring like a grizzly bear. In hindsight she’s a pretty adorable drunk, despite the havoc wreaked on my home decor. I wrap my arms around her so I can tell if she wakes up. Nothing romantic or sweet, I just want to make sure she doesn’t throw up in my bed.
Somewhere in the night, my hold on Elizabeth goes from puke patrol to spooning. It’s not even really spooning, more of a blanketing.
That’s a first.
I’ve had girls stay over a few times when I’m too drunk or too exhausted to kick them out, although I try to avoid it. When a girl gets comfortable sleeping in a guy’s bed, instead of just being fucked in it, she gets comfortable everywhere else in his life too.
My sleepovers are minimal and I sure as fuck don’t cuddle. Except with Elizabeth, apparently I do. Having her warm body wrapped up in mine definitely seems like cuddling.
Fuck.
We might even be snuggling.
I’m practically lying on top of her, covering most of her back with my chest. Our arms and legs are a tangled mess. Her tiny body is stretched across half the bed, limbs spread out in every direction. For such a small thing, she sure takes up a lot of room.
It’s surprisingly nice. She must think so too. I know she’s awake, but she hasn’t pulled away.
Don’t get used to it, Jacobs. Don’t get attached.
The sun streaming into my bedroom is enough to tell me I’ve slept in way too late. Time to end this babysitter sh
it and get on with my day.
“I know you’re up.” The lack of her chainsaw-level snoring is proof of that. She doesn’t acknowledge me. “Should we play sexual chicken to prove it?” I ask, as I glide my hand up the back of her thigh.
She doesn’t flinch, but her breathing gets shallow.
I slip my hand under the hem of her T-shirt, tracing the curve of her tight little ass, giving it a firm squeeze. My cock twitches in my boxers as I resist the urge to give her soft cheek a firm slap.
She’s perfectly still.
It’s a valiant effort, but her body is tense against mine.
I dance my fingers around her hips to the sweet heaven between her legs, applying enough pressure to know she’s wet. My heart rate spikes, desperately pumping all my blood south, but I keep my body relaxed.
She holds her breath.
You’re a terrible faker, Goose.
I dip my thumb inside her panties.
She jolts upright, panting heavily.
“I win,” I confirm before rolling away from her onto my back.
She doesn’t answer. She tugs the T-shirt back down and rakes her hands through her disheveled hair. Her embarrassment is replaced with the unmistakable look of nausea.
“There’s a bucket next to the nightstand. Don’t puke in my bed.”
She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths before she moves again. When it seems she’s back in control of her stomach and its contents, she turns toward me.
I’m lying here in nothing but my boxer briefs. I don’t even try to cover my morning wood. She traces over my naked chest and I can tell the second she sees my hard-on by the way she snaps her gaze anywhere but on my junk.
“See anything you want?” I goad her. She blushes and pulls the covers up over herself.
I don’t care. I’m not feeling very charitable toward her this morning. I couldn’t get her out of my head yesterday, but I didn’t invite her over because I knew it would end badly. Instead of the quick fuck I was aiming for, I had to take shit from my teammates and play nursemaid all night. I didn’t even get laid for my efforts.
“Bathroom?” she squeaks. My anger fades at her frightened voice. I know she’s never woken up half-naked in some guy’s bed before.
“Across the hall. You can’t miss it.” I keep my eyes focused on the ceiling. She gets up quietly and walks across the hall.
“Stop being such a dick,” I tell myself after she’s gone. I throw on a pair of shorts and head to the kitchen to grab Elizabeth a bottle of water.
“Your junk get frostbite popping the ice queen’s cherry?” Monte chides with a nasty sneer as soon as I turn the corner into the kitchen. The obnoxious fuck must’ve been waiting all night to use that line.
“What did you just say to me?” I spit back at him. I’m in no mood for this asshole’s shit this morning. He’s a prick in general, but worse with me since I destroy him on the field.
“We saw her do the walk of shame to the bathroom,” Drew, the team’s best running back, adds. “Not like you to let them stick around ’til morning.”
“Why don’t you two mind your own damn business?”
“I told you. No way did he tap that last night. Pay up,” Monte declares victoriously. Drew studies me.
My arms crossed, shoulders tight, scowl firmly in place, I might as well have sexually frustrated stamped on my forehead.
“Damn it.” Drew hands him a twenty. The pricks bet on if I fucked Elizabeth last night. Even if she hadn’t been wasted, it’s a pretty messed-up bet to make.
“Dude, I could’ve told you the frosty little princess was going to give you the cold shoulder.” He beams with satisfaction at his stupid pun. I want to punch his teeth in, but instead, I grab a water from the fridge and a protein bar from the cabinet, telling myself he isn’t worth it.
“Go fuck yourself, Monte.”
Don’t let them get to you.
“I’m just saying, there are easier ways to get your rocks off, man. That chick don’t want no dick. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“So that’s what this is about? You made a pass at her and she said no? That makes her like the other ninety-nine percent of the girls on campus, too smart for your dumb ass,” I quip with a genuine smile, loving that Elizabeth said no to the egotistical little shit.
“Whatever. Just trying to be a friend. Keep wasting your time if you want. I know you enjoy a challenge, but no way that frigid bitch is worth it.” His comment stops me dead in my tracks.
“Call her a bitch again and I’ll fucking end you.” There isn’t an ounce of humor in my voice. Rage fills my veins. I don’t know where it came from.
“Take it easy. Jesus, she’s just another Friday-night fuck,” he remarks.
Big mistake.
I cross the kitchen in a few long strides, grab a fistful of his shirt and shove him against the wall before it even registers to him what’s happening.
“She’s not just another anything to you. As far as you are concerned, she’s my girl. So, shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” I growl in his face.
“All right, Jacobs. I think he’s got it.” Drew puts his hand on my chest and pushes me away.
I give Monte a final shove, enjoying the sound of his head hitting the wall behind him. I grab the water and protein bar, wanting Monte to try to have the last word. He doesn’t. Guess the asshole isn’t so stupid after all.
I turn the corner back toward my room and almost knock Elizabeth over. I wrap her up in my arms, keeping her from falling. How long has she been standing there? Long enough. She’s in nothing but my T-shirt and her underwear.
“You putting on a show, Goose?” My voice is sharp from the tussle with Monte, causing her to cringe slightly. I tower over her, looking down into her wide brown eyes. I never noticed the light golden flecks in them before.
“I couldn’t find my clothes…” Her timid voice trails off as she tries to pull the shirt down to cover more of her milky thighs.
I’m pissed at Monte for being a dick. I’m pissed at her for causing drama in my life. And I’m pissed at myself for acting like some possessive boyfriend. But all that anger isn’t what’s making my heart race right now. It’s her tight little body pressing against mine. I’m not so angry anymore. Now I’m scared. Of her. Of what she does to me. How did I let her get so close so fast? I let her go and take a step back.
“Toothbrush?” she asks.
“Sure.” I grab her hand and take her into the bathroom. I snag one of the many unopened spares from under the sink and hand it to her. She examines it. I know the question she wants to ask.
“The guys have a lot of guests. We try to be hospitable.”
“The guys?” She gazes up at me, wanting me to give her some reassurance. I can’t. Wouldn’t want her getting too comfortable.
“Yes, Elizabeth. Occasionally, our female visitors spend the night after we fuck their brains out.” I might be a bit harsh, but we aren’t playing house here. She needs to know who I am. I can’t have her thinking she’s special. “Do you need to read my reviews on scoreyourscore.com again?” I don’t wait for her to reply before I leave.
I toss the water and protein bar on my desk before lying back down on top of the covers. She tiptoes back into my room. It’s the lion’s den and she’s trying not to wake the beast. She’s scared of me. It’s shitty, but necessary.
“I’m sorry. About last night. I shouldn’t have…” Her voice is shaky. Embarrassment is pouring out of her. She’s tugging at the bottom of my shirt, pulling it as far down her thighs as the fabric will stretch. Her eyes are locked on her feet that are drawing little circles on my carpet. I prop myself up on my elbows and face her. She freezes in place, a deer in headlights.
“You shouldn’t have what?” I ask without an ounce of forgiveness. “Come to my party? Gotten shit-faced? Ripped my curtains off the wall? Almost flashed my teammates? Slept in my bed?”
She cringes at my words.
“Ri
ght. Sorry about all of that.” She darts her gaze around the room, anywhere but on me.
“Your dress is on a hook in the closet.” I motion to the small closet door across the room. She grabs her dress and the sneakers on the floor next to it. She walks backward toward the bedroom door, afraid to turn her back on me.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, sprawled out on the bed.
“To the bathroom. I’ll change and get out of your hair.”
“The bathroom?” I ask with a laugh. “You realize I’m the one who put you in that shirt last night, right? You can lose the modesty. I’ve seen it all before.”
That pisses her off.
I can see the change in her entire demeanor as Ms. Feisty comes out to play. Her eyes go wide and wild. Her nostrils flare. She pulls her shoulders back and stands tall, putting her tits on display. My dick appreciates the show.
“Fine,” she declares as she rips my shirt off over her head and throws it at me. I’d already seen her last night. I’d even had my hands on the luscious curves of her body. But she was drunk, basically passed out. It wasn’t sexy. It was almost clinical.
Standing in her matching pink bra and panties, hands on her hips, defiant, she is beyond beautiful. I don’t move, pretending she has no effect on me, as my heart races and my cock gets hard. She pulls her dress on, struggling to zip it up behind her back but refusing to ask for help. I don’t offer. I stare at her, enjoying the view.
She pulls on her shoes.
Who wears tennis shoes with a dress?
It’s very Elizabeth. Weirdly sexy. I like a woman in heels as much as the next guy, but Elizabeth makes sneakers alluring.
Our eyes lock for a few heartbeats and we stare at each other in complete silence. She’s waiting for me to fold, to apologize.
Don’t hold your breath, sweet cheeks.
“Thanks for the help last night,” she snaps at me before leaving, slamming the door behind her. I grab the shirt she threw at me and take a deep breath of her scent.
So, That Got Weird: A Painfully Awkward Love Story (So Far, So Good Book 1) Page 11