Hell, I forget my own name when his roving hand snakes under my shirt, the rough pads of his fingers gliding over my belly, tracing a path to the hardened nipples that strain against my tank top. Then his lips are moving over mine, the firm weight of his body descending on me with such perfection I give myself over to him with total abandon, letting him set the pace for the pleasure I know will follow. Because his mouth, his hands, his body? They’re exquisite. As if they were made for pleasure. As if they were made just for me.
And that kind of perfection? It won’t be easy to give up at the end of the season.
Chapter Seventeen
Austin
Something’s up. I feel it the instant I step onto the practice field. It’s deadly quiet. No jokes. No complaints. No warm-ups. Coach glares at us as we take the field—eyes narrow, brows flat—like he’s just waiting to unleash the beast. The rest of the coaching staff stands behind him, arms crossed, faces blank, as we line up, forming a loose semi-circle. The day is cold and gray, the sun nonexistent. Perfect for a good ass chewing. The only question is whether it’ll be worse than the tongue lashing we got after Spellman busted his leg.
Fuck. Did he hear about the recruits getting wasted?
Fear grips my chest like a vise. That would definitely be a whole other level of shit. One we can’t afford with the Badgers on the schedule this week. They’re playing well and we need our best guys on the field.
We also need them focused on the game.
I take my place at the front of the group, Coop at my side, and resist the urge to look at Johnson. Whatever’s coming, we’re all in it together. Otherwise, Coach would’ve called the offenders into his office. No. Whatever he’s got to say, it’s for the whole team. A bead of sweat trickles down my right temple despite the October chill.
Kennedy catches my eye and lifts a brow, but I don’t acknowledge her. Not even to give the slightest shake of my head. Coach’s red-hot glare is fixed on me, and for now, that’s where it needs to stay. Just another perk of being captain.
Coach grunts and the mass of tension-filled bodies surrounding me stand up even straighter. “Imagine my surprise when I got a call from campus PD,” Coach says, each word landing like a blow to my solar plexus, “informing me that a few of my guys were caught tussling with the baseball team Saturday night.”
A murmur of surprise rises from the back of the group. Proof that word of the scene with McCoy and his boys hasn’t spread far and wide…yet. Heart racing, I will Johnson to keep his mouth shut as Coach’s gaze swings his way. Lucky for Johnson it doesn’t hold. Coach’s eyes pivot, slamming into me with the force of a defensive end.
“You were supposed to be babysitting recruits, so what the fuck were y’all doing messing with the baseball team?” he demands. I bite my tongue, hoping it’s a rhetorical question. “Well?”
Fuck. He actually expects an answer.
I take a steadying breath and force myself to look him in the eye. It’s moments like these when being the team captain really blows. “A few of the guys were watching the Bama game and things got a little tense, but it was no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Coach snorts. “The way I hear it, Reid, you went after one of their guys, so I ask you again, what the fuck happened?”
I grit my teeth, careful not to look at Kennedy. No need to drag her into this mess. “One of their guys had a little too much to drink and disrespected the team.” I shrug, doing my best to downplay the whole incident. It’s not like it was a legit fight. The cop was there for a noise complaint, a fact I’m sure Coach knows. Just like he knows there’s bad blood between the two teams. “I told them to leave.”
“Was that before or after you took a swing at him?”
Anger stirs in my gut at the memory of the shortstop’s words and the way he disrespected Kennedy. I tamp it down. Smith was right. Rearranging his face might have felt good, but it wasn’t worth our season. “Before, sir.”
Johnson and Tate turn their attention to Kennedy. I silently curse them for being assholes. Might as well have pointed at her and announced it was all her fault. Coach follows their line of sight, and I swear his face gets two shades darker. He stomps over to Kennedy, so they’re nearly toe to toe. “And what was your role in all this, Carter?”
“Me?” She scrunches up her nose. There’s a hint of annoyance in her tone. Can’t blame her given she’s totally innocent. “I wasn’t even there.”
Coach cuts his eyes at her, and I jump in before either of them says something we’ll all regret. “It’s true, Coach. It was just a few of the guys.”
And the underage recruits, but if he doesn’t already know they were drinking, I’m not about to volunteer the information. We’re in enough trouble thanks to Johnson and his boneheaded roommates.
Coach spins on his heel and returns to the front of the group, looking even less pleased than when we arrived. “What the hell is wrong with y’all? We’re six and one, and you’re throwing parties and getting in fights?”
“It wasn’t a party, sir. Just a few friends is all.” Fuckin’ Johnson. Bad enough he was hanging with the baseball team, now he’s going to try and justify it?
“Johnson, I don’t give a shit if it was Bible study.” Coach points a meaty finger at him. “Campus PD shows up at your door again, your ass will be riding the bench. You got me?”
Johnson pales, finally grasping the seriousness of the situation. “Yes, sir.”
Coach turns his attention to the rest of us, lips pressed into a flat line as he marches from one end of the group to the other, glaring at us. “Do y’all wanna win a national title or not?”
The question is met with a resounding, “Yes, sir.”
“Yeah? Then you’re going to have to be smarter. Use your goddamn heads once in a while. First Spellman. Now this?” He shakes his head. He’s getting really worked up now, his words coming fast and loud. “The next person on this team to step one goddamn toe out of line will be riding the bench.” His gaze pans the group, making it clear he’s not playing. “I mean it. One toe out of line and I will bench your ass. I don’t care who you are. We haven’t worked this hard to piss it all away because some asshole on the baseball team hurt your feelings!” He says the last part with disgust and shame washes over me.
I risked everything taking a swing at that kid, and for what? Because he was talking shit? Those taunts were nothing compared to the press I’d get for assault charges. Not to mention the team supplying alcohol to minors.
Coach is right. We’ve only got a few games left. I need to keep the team focused and out of trouble. For the title and my reputation. No one wants to draft a troublemaker. I’ve worked hard to keep my nose clean. I’m not about to throw it all away now.
Not when everything I’ve ever wanted is within my grasp.
Coach Collins turns to the rest of the coaching staff. “These boys have energy to burn, so let’s work ’em hard. I want ’em too tired to make trouble when they leave this field today.”
There’s a rumble of dissent, but one scathing look from Coach squashes it. We line up for warm-ups, and the staff puts us through the wringer. It’s the hardest workout of the year. By the time the practice is over, my muscles feel like Jell-O. I couldn’t do another burpee if I tried and sweat is pouring off me like a waterfall. All I want to do is hit the showers, but when the team is dismissed, Kennedy hangs back. The weight of her gaze is crushing, making it clear she wants to talk. Probably about the incident at the football house.
Damn. So much for the brutal workout squashing her curiosity.
I drag the back of my hand across my forehead and make my way to the thirty-yard line where she stands, helmet wedged against her hip, waiting expectantly. There’s a light breeze and despite the chill, it feels like heaven against my sweat-soaked skin. The wind catches the end of Kennedy’s ponytail, making it flutter around her head like a halo. Fitting, I suppose, since even sweat slicked and exhausted, she looks like an angel.
My angel.
For now anyway. We’ll see how long that lasts when she hears what went down at the football house. Something tells me she didn’t like being singled out by Coach today and there’s going to be hell to pay.
Kennedy
“What happened Saturday night?” Judging by the way Johnson and Tate gave me the side-eye at practice, it has something to do with me, which just figures. You know, since I wasn’t even there. The last thing I need is Coach breathing down my neck. I haven’t forgotten his threat to bounce me out on my ass if I cause trouble.
Given the way he came down on me during practice, he’s more than happy to make good on the promise.
Austin scrubs a hand over his face and wipes it on his jersey. Desire stirs low in my belly, spreading through my limbs like a current. The man is dripping sweat, and I know I should be grossed out, but I’m so not. It’s possible he’s never looked sexier than he does in this moment with glistening muscles and ruddy cheeks. I’m tempted to scrap this whole discussion and invite him back to my place.
Which is exactly why I need to focus on the matter at hand.
“Nothing to worry about.” He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Which mean he’s shutting me out or he’s falling back on his captain’s laurels, assuming it’s his job to shoulder all the hard stuff. “Just guy stuff.”
“Guy stuff?” I snort. He can’t actually expect me to buy the half-assed lie. The wind howls around us, and dried leaves cartwheel across the empty practice field. “Try again, Reid, because I’m not buying it. Why did Johnson and Tate stare me down when you said the baseball team was talking shit?”
Frustration flashes in his eyes and he crosses his arms over his chest, helmet dangling from his right hand.
“Oh, for crying out loud. Can we not do the whole strong and silent thing? I have a right to know,” I say, determined not to let him stonewall me. “Coach just singled me out in front of the entire team, and he’s made it clear he’d be more than happy to give me the boot if I don’t walk the line.”
Austin raises a brow, the corner of his mouth inching skyward. “Coach isn’t going to bench you because I took a swing at some asshole from the baseball team. Our rivalry predates you joining the team.”
It sounds so reasonable when he says it, but I haven’t forgotten Coach’s hot breath on my face or his prior warnings. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I’m not willing to stake my scholarship on your word. And stop deflecting. What happened?”
He gives a long-suffering sigh. I can’t tell if it’s in reaction to my persistence or the story he’s about to tell. “Johnson and a couple of the guys were supposed to be keeping an eye on the recruits while I was at study group. Instead, they got them wasted and decided to chill with our rivals. It was a total cluster. Campus police showed up right after one of their guys made a derogatory remark about you.”
I frown, fighting the urge to ask exactly what was said.
It doesn’t matter, and I doubt Austin would tell me anyway. I can’t decide if I’m touched he had my back or annoyed I’ve become exactly the kind of distraction Coach Collins was worried about. Assault charges against Waverly’s golden boy would’ve put an end to the season. No way I want that kind of guilt hanging over my head.
“You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t need you going all territorial, and I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I say, poking him in the chest for good measure. Fat lot of good it does because, shoulder pads.
“I know you don’t need me to fight your battles, but I wasn’t going to stand there and let some douchebag disrespect you.” He presses his lips flat, the hard set of his jaw like granite. “Or the team.”
“Call me crazy, but I doubt you would’ve reacted so strongly if he’d been talking about Coop. Or Vaughn. Or basically anyone but me.”
His silence confirms my suspicions. Because despite the rules we’ve set, I’m not just one of the guys. And neither is he. I start to reach for him and catch myself, my hand freezing in midair.
“This is exactly what I didn’t want. What Coach didn’t want. Maybe we should call it quits.” I pull my hand back and rake it through my hair, tucking loose strands behind my ear. “I know we said the end of the season, but if Saturday night is any indication, things between us are already getting too messy. Neither of us can afford the distraction, and I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up your season.”
“Fuck that,” he says, slashing his left hand through the air. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, gathering his composure before he speaks again. “We aren’t hurting anyone, and the situation Saturday night was a onetime deal. It changes nothing between us.”
“Doesn’t it? You took a swing at some guy because you didn’t like what he said about me. Pretty sure that’s a game changer.” It’s sweet that Austin wanted to defend my honor, but it doesn’t change the fact that maybe we’re getting in too deep.
“It won’t happen again,” he assures me, blue eyes flaring with determination. “I was upset about the guys getting the recruits drunk. I let my temper get the best of me.”
“I don’t know. Seeing Coach fired up today…” I bite my lip. “We’re taking a big risk.”
“Trust me, today was nothing,” he says, tracing a finger along my jawline. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, in the way he studies my face, that I haven’t noticed before. My pulse leaps in response, and I curse my traitorous mind for imagining meaning that isn’t there. “Besides, it’s not that big a risk. We aren’t breaking NCAA rules.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his smoldering gaze. “I’m not ready to give you up yet, and I don’t think you’re ready to give me up either. The way you scream my name? There isn’t another man on campus who can give you that kind of pleasure. And I think you know it, don’t you, gorgeous?”
“Yes,” I agree, hating the breathless sound of my voice. Problem is, he’s right. I’m not ready to go back to the way things were. Not yet, anyway. My body is already protesting at the mere suggestion. “But we have to be more careful. No more unnecessary risks.”
Austin grins down at me, his dimple sending my racing heart into overdrive. “You worry too much. We aren’t going to get caught.”
Chapter Eighteen
Austin
“Reid. My office. Ten minutes.” Coach barks the order and turns on his heel without waiting for a reply.
Fuuuck. What now? I had a good practice. The team’s looking solid, and everyone’s well rested coming off the bye week. The team’s been on virtual lockdown since Monday’s practice. No way have any of the guys had time to get into trouble. Besides, he wouldn’t give me ten minutes to clean up if he was really pissed. And he probably would’ve made practice a living hell. Sure, it was rough, but no worse than usual.
I strip off my pads and notice Coop eyeing the bruise on my right side. It’s nearly faded, but it’s still ugly as shit.
“Still a lot of games to play,” Coop says, sliding his helmet into his locker. His tone is neutral, but we’ve been friends long enough I can read the tension in his shoulders and in the pinched corners of his mouth. Something’s bothering him. “Maybe do the rest of us a favor and get rid of the ball next time. Better to lose a down than a QB.”
I grit my teeth. It was a late hit and he knows it, but that isn’t the point. Even if the refs had called it, I’d still be banged up. I know he’s right. Smart players don’t take unnecessary risks, not when it could blow the whole season. Problem is, when I’m on the field and the adrenaline’s pumping, I have to be the best. There’s no other option. Sometimes that means making the play, the hell with the risk.
This time, it paid off. We won the game. No point sweating what-ifs. But I can’t say that to Coop. It wouldn’t be very captainly and I sure as shit wouldn’t accept that answer from one of my guys.
“Duly noted.”
He just nods, and I head for the shower. Clock’s ticking, and Coach won’t tolerate lateness. Especially from me.
I make it to
his office without a minute to spare. He’s sitting behind his desk, flipping through the grade book. I didn’t do as well as I should have on my midterms, but my grades are decent. Doesn’t stop a sheen of sweat from rising on my forehead.
“Coach.”
He closes the grade book and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and giving nothing away. I wait him out. If one of my guys is about to get benched for grades, I’ll know it soon enough.
“I’ve been getting a lot of calls from scouts this week. You played a hell of a game against Ohio.” He pauses. “There are a lot of guys who want to come out and see you play. Including Chicago.”
Chicago.
My pulse quickens. I have a million questions, but I do my best to remain impassive. No sense getting myself or Coach excited.
Coach grunts. “Lot of guys in this senior class getting looks, so I’m going to open practice the week of the Michigan game.”
I should’ve seen this coming. It’s the same week Hart’s coming out. Sounds like it’s going to be a full house. Did my old man already talk to Coach about my prospects? If he has, Coach hasn’t mentioned it, but I doubt he would. The man’s a closed book when he’s not busting my balls.
“Have you given any additional thought to what we talked about?” he asks.
He’s referring to Chicago, to blazing my own trail and finding a team that’s a good fit for my style and skill. I play dumb. “Sir?”
Coach shakes his head. He’s not buying. No surprise there. I’ve always been shit at lying, especially when it comes to authority figures. “Son, I think you need to be a realist here. Based on their current rank, Chicago could very well have the number one draft pick and they’re in desperate need of a QB to build the program. I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t think your name was on the short list. Hell, the scout said as much.”
Claiming Carter (Waverly Wildcats Book 1) Page 19