Claiming Carter (Waverly Wildcats Book 1)

by Jennifer Bonds

  That I need a release from the constant pressure of school and football.

  A release only Kennedy seems able to provide with her quick wit, lush curves, and low expectations. Some days it feels like she’s the only person in my life who doesn’t want something from me. Or at least, not something I’m unwilling to give. Our relationship is all about give-and-take, the push and pull of fire and ice, pleasure so intense it sometimes borders on pain. But damn if I don’t crave it at times like this, when it feels like I’ll explode if I can’t slip out of my own skin, if only for a few hours.

  It’s a weakness I can’t show anyone. Especially not my father. He thrived under the pressure. He’ll accept no less from his only son.

  “And Austin? Make sure you write down the meeting with Hart.”

  Kennedy

  Enzo and I are three hours into design tweaks for the ACME competition when Austin texts me.

  Austin: You free tonight?

  The obvious answer is yes. My roommate is away. I’m horny as hell. And I’ve had enough orgasms…said no woman ever. But then I glance at Enzo, who’s got his nose buried in a textbook.

  I can’t very well kick him out for a hookup. Can I?

  No. Definitely not. He’s a good guy and he’s doing me a huge favor by partnering. Although a horny little voice in the back of my head reminds me I’m doing him a favor as well, since he couldn’t find a team to work with his crazy-pants schedule. Still, it’s a new partnership, and I don’t want to do anything to screw it up. Besides, it was my brilliant idea to spend our Saturday night working.

  Kennedy: I wish. Enzo’s here. Working.

  Enzo glances up, and I drop my phone into my lap. I don’t want him to see Austin’s messages any more than I want him to think I’m slacking. I turn my attention back to my open laptop and the design schematics that are nearly complete. Turns out, Enzo is the partner I never knew I needed. He’s the perfect balance of helpful and constructive, not hesitating to challenge my design while also helping with some of the legwork and data validation that was slowing me down. I’m thrilled with today’s progress, but there’s no shortage of work to be done.

  My phone buzzes again and I glance down.

  Austin: Come on. I just got off babysitting duty and I’m ready for some adult time.

  Apparently, so are my ovaries, but I have to be strong.

  Kennedy: No deal. This project is important.

  I try to focus on my design. I really do. But it’s impossible to concentrate when the phone keeps buzzing. I can feel Enzo’s gaze on me, although I keep my eyes trained on the laptop screen, determined to ignore the messages coming in.

  I last all of three seconds.

  Austin: New deal. I’ll bring dinner AND dessert if you wrap things up in the next thirty minutes. ☺

  My stomach rumbles as if on cue. No, no, no. I will not be ruled by my stomach. Or my hormones. Maybe I can rustle up some snacks in the kitchen. I start to get up, but sigh and flop back into my chair. Tomorrow is grocery day, which is pretty much the only day there’s actual food in the kitchen of a student athlete.

  Enzo stretches and rubs the back of his neck. “Man, I didn’t realize how late it was getting. You want to call it a night? I’m starving.”

  Best. Partner. Ever.

  I grin, a real honest-to-God smile with teeth and all. “You totally heard my stomach, didn’t you?”

  Enzo shrugs, but the corners of his lips twitch. I should probably be embarrassed, but I’m not. Maybe his chill vibe is rubbing off on me. “It’s cool. My girlfriend is always hungry too. I swear there are days the woman eats more than I do, even though she’s half my size.”

  Most people would probably latch onto the fact that he basically just called his girl a human garbage disposal, but not me. “You have a girlfriend?” It’s hard to keep the surprise from my voice.

  Enzo arches a brow. Crap. I probably offended him. “Emma and I have been dating since freshman year.” He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of a lovely girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and a sweet smile.

  “She’s pretty,” I say, tilting my head. “Must be pretty understanding too, given all the groupies.”

  Enzo laughs. “Just because I play football doesn’t mean I’m into the party scene. You think I got an A in Beck’s class by spending my free time drinking my face off and hooking up?”

  Fair point. “No, I suppose not.”

  I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got the whole football-player narrative wrong. Sure, there are plenty of guys on the team who spend more time chasing skirts than studying, but not all of them.

  “Naw, Emma keeps me grounded. I love the game, but I’m a realist. I won’t be playing pro ball after college. I need my degree.” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be the first one in my family to graduate from college and football’s given me the discipline to manage my time and my studies. Plus, it looks good on a resume.” He laughs. “Lots of companies who want to support the blue and white, you know?”

  “Preach.” Enzo wouldn’t be the first graduate counting on the Waverly network to help him land a job after graduation. But I can’t afford to hope some random alum will take an interest. I need this competition. I don’t have a lot of connections, and networking isn’t my strong suit. I’ve always been too busy with work and school.

  I close my laptop and roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension that’s settled between my shoulder blades. We made good progress today and if we finalize the design this week, we can start working on the prototype next weekend.

  Enzo stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. I follow his lead and tuck my buzzing phone in my pocket as I walk him to the door. When he’s gone, I pull out my phone and glance at the screen, the earlier spark of desire catching fire.

  Austin: You’re killing me, gorgeous. Don’t make me beg.

  He thinks I’m playing hard to get. If he only knew…

  Kennedy: You had me at dessert. What’s on the menu?

  Austin: YOU.

  That one word goes straight to my core. I clench my thighs together, desire slamming through me like water from a burst dam. Three little letters. Lots of promise.

  If I hurry, I can squeeze in a quick shower before Austin arrives.

  I race like the wind, but it’s still not fast enough. There’s a knock on the door as I’m towel drying my hair. I toss on a pair of boxers and a cami and pad out to the living room barefoot. When I open the door, Austin’s leaning against the doorjamb with a white bag dangling from his right hand. He’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt and his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing a swath of bare skin and hardened muscle that makes my ovaries do a happy dance.

  Mmm.

  I swear the man looks good enough to eat, but apparently my stomach didn’t get the message, because it growls again.

  “I take it we’re eating first.” Austin’s words are wrought with amusement, but there’s hunger too. And not the kind that can be satisfied with a mere sandwich. “A woman after my own heart.”

  It’s meant to be a joke, but the way he says it? All low and husky? The words skate across my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. I don’t like it one bit. Our hearts have nothing to do with this arrangement.

  I snatch the bag from his hand and flounce into the kitchen, determined to focus on our most basic needs: food and sex.

  That’s the deal, after all.

  Once I’ve unpacked the sandwiches and put them on plates, I toss Austin a bottle of water and join him at the table, which is still covered with the remnants of my design project. I sit down and pluck a fry off my turkey and cheese sandwich as Austin’s gaze sweeps across the table. I chew slowly, realizing it probably looks like a total mess to the casual observer.

  Austin leans back in his chair, massive sandwich untouched. “So what’s the deal with this competition anyway?”

  “The American Coalition of Mechanical Engineers design competition is the competition for
mechanical engineering majors.” I pause and take a sip of my water. “Think of it as the championship game. The winners are pretty much guaranteed job interviews with the top engineering companies in the country.”

  “I take it you’re planning to claim one of those top spots.”

  I grin. “Why enter if not to win? Besides, I need every advantage I can get when it comes to job placement.” I pop another fry in my mouth, savoring the greasy, starchy goodness. “I’ll be paying off my student loans until the end of time.”

  The muscles in Austin’s jaw tense, but he nods in understanding before turning his attention to his sandwich. We eat in silence for a while, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. When he finishes eating, he turns his attention back to the mess that surrounds us.

  “So what exactly are you designing?” He picks up one of the sketches from the table, and I cringe. It’s pretty rough. Definitely not my best work. “Is this a robot?” He holds up the drawing, interest flaring in his eyes.

  “Yeah.” I tear a piece of crusty Italian bread from my sandwich and coleslaw drips over the edge of the paper wrapper. Leave it to Austin to hit up the one place in town that serves a Pittsburgh-style sandwich, complete with coleslaw and French fries. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat the whole thing. “This year’s contest is a Pick and Place race. The challenge is to design a robot capable of picking various size balls from tall plastic platforms and depositing them in a collection bin.”

  It’s a quick and dirty description, but I doubt he wants all the boring details.

  Austin arches a brow, and I catch a flash of his dimple before he speaks. “I’m guessing it’s a little more complicated than it sounds.”

  “Little bit.” I pinch my fingers together so that only a small gap remains between them. “There’s a lot of work that goes into the design and construction phases. Plus a written paper and presentation that detail the engineering principles the team used to build the bot.”

  “Does it include lots of differential equations and advanced calculations that would be too complex for a jock like me?” He laughs, the sound scraping over my skin like gravel. It’s sexy as hell, but I refuse to take the bait. I never said football players were dumb. Just that they have a tendency to think with the little head. Austin grabs the edge of my chair and drags it closer to his own. Our knees are touching and he’s looking at me like I might be next up on the menu. A bolt of desire goes straight to my belly. I’m going to have sex with Austin freaking Reid. It’s not the first time or even the second, but I swear, the thrill of it never wears off. “You know, I kind of like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

  I swallow, my brain instantly short-circuited by the press of his body against mine.

  And then I’m reciting the principles of robotics and offering him a tutorial on CAD. Like he wants to see how a technical drawing is built. Hell, maybe he does. He did just say nerd-talk was hot.

  Stupid nerves. You’ve had sex with this man before. Get a grip!

  But then it’s not just my knee he’s touching. He leans forward and pulls me onto his lap like I weigh no more than a paper doll, my legs straddling his hips. I can feel the hard ridge of his erection pressed against me, and it’s all I can do not to rock my hips as he strokes my cheek, brushing the damp hair from my face.

  His voice is low and husky when he speaks again, sounding like sex personified. “That’s better.”

  “Much better,” I agree, meeting his eyes as I rotate my bottom, giving sweet relief to the growing ache between my legs. So much for self-control. “Remind me again whose idea it was to eat first?”

  He laughs and grips my hips, his strong hands pulling my body flush to his before crushing his lips to mine. Our tongues collide fiercely and a deep moan shatters the silence. Shit. Was that me? Doesn’t matter. Austin’s hands slide gracefully over my back and then they’re tangled in my hair, twisting it around his fingers as he tilts my head, baring my throat. He trails openmouthed kisses down my chin and neck, sucking and biting as he makes his way across my collarbone.

  Another breathy moan rolls off my lips, but I’m beyond caring. My skin ignites like wildfire at the brush of his lips. I’m burning up from the inside out, desperate for more. His fingers are everywhere at once, moving hungrily over my heated flesh and leaving a trail of desire in their wake. It’s too much and yet…it’s not enough.

  It will never be enough with Austin.

  I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles I’ve spent countless hours worshipping. In the back seat of his Jeep, in the visiting team locker room, against his bedroom door, and once in the library bathroom. Although, to be fair, that only took a few minutes.

  A few glorious minutes.

  I trail my fingers over his pecs, savoring the smooth, firm skin that covers every dip and ridge. There’s a fading bruise on his right side where the flesh is a mottled shade of purple. A reminder of the hard-hitting game against Ohio.

  I skim my fingers over the lingering injury and Austin shivers at my touch, lowering his forehead to mine. Our eyes lock, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he stands and carries me to the couch. He lays me on my back, his weight pressing me into the cushions as his hips rock against mine, his cock grinding against my core with tantalizing precision. I wriggle and arch my back, trying desperately to get closer to him, to meld my body to his. An impossible feat with his stupid jeans. They need to go.

  Like, right now.

  I grab for his belt, shaky hands fumbling with the buckle. Austin seals his lips to mine, a hot brand that confirms I’m not the only one anxious to get to O-town. I manage to unclasp his belt and flick open the button on his jeans. He climbs to his feet and I gasp at the loss of contact, my swollen lips abandoned as he unzips his fly and shoves his pants to the floor, revealing the long, thick cock that’s left me blissed-out more nights than not since we made our little deal.

  I swear it’s the stuff of fantasies. Or romance novels.

  Best of all, he knows how to use it.

  Which is why tonight, I want to do something for him. I sit up and take his cock in my hand. With a firm grip, I stroke him from root to tip, relishing the feel of his silky skin against my palm. Austin’s eyelids droop and he sighs. The sound is rough and jagged and full of unspoken need.

  My body clenches in response, urging me on. There’s a bead of moisture on the head of his cock and I lick it off, my tongue darting out to tease the unflappable QB. He throws his head back and groans, sending a thrill up my spine.

  There’s something empowering about having this hulk of a man surrender to my touch, giving up control in exchange for the pleasure I offer. It feels…right. And I know that when the time comes, my own orgasm will be explosive, so I take him in my mouth, working him with my tongue as he tangles his fingers in my hair, guiding me. I lose myself in Austin, licking and sucking and teasing as he chants my name like a prayer.

  “Fuuuck.” He abruptly pulls me to my feet.

  Shit. Did I do something wrong?

  But no, he’s reaching for my tank top, dragging it over my head and freeing my breasts. He cups them in his large palms, stroking lazy circles around my hardened nipples as I shimmy out of my shorts. When I stand naked before him, he rolls on a condom and tugs me down on the couch so I’m straddling him.

  His normally bright eyes are dark with lust, and when he looks at me like there’s no one else who could make him feel this way, I can’t deny the swell of pride that expands in my chest. I’ve done this to him. Brought him to the edge of madness with my touch.

  He strokes my cheek, the calloused pads of his fingers a sharp contrast to my own soft skin. “I need to come inside you. I want to feel you come on my dick.”

  He doesn’t have to ask twice. I lower myself without hesitation, moaning as Austin is fully seated, filling me completely. We move in unison, our sweat-slick bodies coming together as we push one another higher and higher, soaring toward release. When I feel hi
s body tense under mine, his hips bucking off the couch as though he’s lost all sense of control, I fly over the edge with him, my own orgasm spiraling through me with such intensity I cry out his name before his lips clamp over mine.

  The kiss is deep and sweaty and utterly perfect.

  When we finally break apart, I climb to my feet on shaky legs. I gather my clothes and get dressed as Austin does the same. When he’s finished, he grabs the remote and flops down on the couch, arm draped across the back. He’s sitting in my spot, but that’s not the problem.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. He looks way too comfortable on my couch.

  He shrugs. “It’s early. I figured we could watch a movie if you’re up for it?”

  I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. Aren’t hookups supposed to, I don’t know, leave afterward? This is new territory for us, but… It is early and Becca’s gone for the weekend. Besides, it’s not like he’s planning to sleep over. Probably I’m making a big deal out of nothing.

  “Relax.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch. “It’s not like we’re going to watch The Notebook and talk about our feelings.” The color drains from his face and his eyes go wide. The guy’s faced down three-hundred-pound linemen, but it’s the first time I’ve seen real fear in his eyes. “Are we?”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, doubling over as the laughter shakes my body from the inside out. The look on his face is priceless. I’m half tempted to grab the DVD from Becca’s room just to see what he’ll do, but in the end, I take pity on him. After all, he did just wring the tension from my body with that gifted cock of his.

  We agree on a Ryan Reynolds action flick neither of us has seen, but halfway through the movie Austin starts massaging my thigh. His fingers march north, kneading the muscles just below the hem of my tiny shorts. A ripple of desire pulses through me, and I forget all about the movie.