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Love, Ally: A Second Chance Romance (Brooks University Book 1)

Page 13

by Hannah Gray


  Whirling around, I flick him off. “Oh, cut it out, Len.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Or else I’ll tell those old biddies who come in here just for you that you were asking about them.”

  Lenny is an attractive, older man. I mean, I’m not going to say he’s hot. But for being in his seventies, dude’s still got it.

  “You wouldn’t.” His eyes widen.

  Turning the side of my lip up slightly, I tap my pen to my chin. “Or … would I?” I say.

  He’s scheming something in his head—no doubt about it. He’s quiet for a moment longer before his mouth opens. “Fine then,” he says nonchalantly. “I’ll tell Lucinda to stop bringing the cinnamon buns. Seems as though only you benefit from them anyhow.” He drops that major bomb.

  Threatening a girl’s cinnamon buns? Oh, hell no.

  Lucinda does all of the baking for Lenny’s. Pies, cakes, eclairs, cookies. You name it, and she makes it. And it’s de-fucking-licious. But the cinnamon buns? They are out of this world. And I eat way too many of them a week.

  “Fine, asshole. You win.” I sigh. “A girl can’t go without her cinnamon buns.”

  Satisfied with my response, he grins and starts to head back in the kitchen when, suddenly, Carla comes from taking an order.

  “I heard you call that fine specimen a boy, Len. I have to tell you, that ain’t no boy. That there was a man.” Fanning herself with her hand, she widens her eyes. “A man whose hands I’d love to have all over my body.”

  Lenny only shakes his head and grumbles something inaudible before shutting the door to the kitchen.

  I burst out laughing. “Easy, killer. Aren’t you married with, like, fifteen kids at home?”

  “Three, not fifteen—thank fuck for that.” Grabbing my arm, she looks around to make sure no one is listening. Luckily, we’ve finally slowed down after an entire day of craziness, leaving only a few tables in here. “Bitch, have you seen that hunky piece of meat naked?”

  I grin but try to hide it by grabbing a menu and holding it in front of my face.

  Pulling it down, she gives me a pointed look. “Okay, dimple, spill.”

  “So, that’s Storm … from Ohio,” I tell her, cringing at the response I predict is coming my way.

  She wasn’t here the other times he came in when I was working.

  “Waaaait, that guy, who just came in here, he’s the infamous Storm? I’ve seen him in here before, eating.”

  “Yep.” I nod. “Cole Storms. Also known as Storm,” I explain.

  “Wow. He’s … yeah, he’s … really something.”

  I haven’t told Carla much about my childhood. She knows my parents aren’t in the picture. And she knows I lived in a foster home with Cole and that I left. But she doesn’t know why I left. I don’t think she ever will.

  “He is, and the dickhead knows it too.” I sigh.

  How could he not know it? He looks like he just walked out of a damn magazine with the headline “Sexiest Man Alive.” With those blue eyes that change color with whatever he’s wearing and sometimes even with the weather. Or his brown hair that always seems to lie perfectly messed up, as if he did it on purpose. When I know he didn’t. It’s just literally how he wakes up.

  Lucky fucker.

  “Well, I’m a married woman. I need all the deets,” Carla says, leaning over the counter. “God love Tommy, but I’ve been looking at the same dad bod for twenty years now.” She stops for a second before muttering, “Hairy dad bod.”

  I stifle a laugh. Tommy is her husband, and even though she says things like that, she loves that man more than life itself. She’s just that middle-aged woman who loves to ogle younger men.

  “One day, Ms. Carla,” I chime as I walk away, “I’ll fill you in on it all. Promise.”

  “Baby, I’m gonna hold you to it!” she chimes from behind me.

  Somehow, I know for a fact that she will.

  When I turn the key, the truck roars to life. Loudly. And yeah … it’s hot.

  There are more controls in this bitch than a damn rocket ship.

  How can there be so many buttons? And what the heck do they all do?

  Papa Roach’s “No Matter What” fills the cab of the truck. Causing my heart to melt inside of my chest.

  Laying my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes and soak in the words. There’s not a song that sounds more like my and Cole’s relationship. The words talk about having each other’s backs, even at the expense of taking a bullet for one another if it came down to it. That’s us. That’s how we’ve been since we were just two kids in tattered clothes with hungry bellies. It’s how we will always be—I know it.

  A memory filters through my mind of the two of us stealing candy bars from the little store in downtown Charlotte’s Falls. The owner, Pauline, an older woman, was the sweetest thing. Yet we stole her candy.

  We were fed just enough to keep us deemed healthy. So, if we wanted an extra treat, sometimes, we had to do horrible things, like steal. I vowed to myself that one day, I would go back and apologize to that lady.

  The song ends. The song that I know wasn’t playing by coincidence. I’m sure he put the CD in when he dropped his truck off. He likely had it, so this would be the next track to play. He knows how important music is to me. And how much I love Papa Roach.

  I maneuver the seat forward until I can reach the pedals. I adjust the mirrors to make sure they are positioned right, and then I frown. The mirrors are fine. The problem is, I still can’t see shit. Number one, I’m five foot three, and this truck was built for a giant. Number two, the windows are tinted so dark that it’s like a goddamn cave in here.

  “This is a bad idea,” I mutter to myself. “What the hell was he thinking, letting me drive this thing? He’s right; I do suck at driving.”

  Ever so slowly, I pull out of the parking spot. Praying I don’t take out anyone else’s car in the process.

  The drive to campus is so fast that I don’t even have time to get comfortable with driving Cole’s truck. But I have to say, I feel like a badass in this thing.

  Gradually and carefully pulling into a parking spot lit by streetlights, I turn the truck off and climb out. My feet ache from being on them all day, and I stink like a fryolator and stale coffee grounds.

  “Daaaamn, Ally. You look sexy in a truck.” Cole’s voice flows smoothly out of the darkness. “When I make it into the NFL, first thing I’m going to do is buy you a truck of your own, any color you want.” He slowly struts into the lit parking area, and the sight of him causes my heart to skip a beat. “Dinner got done sooner than I’d thought, but I figured I’d just meet you here instead of at Lenny’s.”

  “You don’t need to buy me a ride, Cole,” I say sharply. “I’m not your orphan to take care of.”

  The closer he gets, the more steps I take backward. Eventually, my steps run out, and I find myself against his truck.

  Stepping into me, he dips his head forward and hovers his lips over mine. “I’m getting real sick of you saying you’re not mine, angel.” Moving his mouth to my neck, he nips my skin with his teeth, causing me to hiss. “I’ll remind you just how much you belong to me. And I’ll do it right against this truck.”

  “I dare you,” I say cuttingly.

  I know he won’t. Even if I sort of wish that he would.

  He chuckles, causing his chest to vibrate against mine. Somehow feeling his heart that close to mine makes me feel like I’m actually alive.

  “Oh, Allycat.” He smiles against my neck. “You should know by now that I would never risk anyone seeing what’s mine.”

  “Yeah,” I say flatly before ducking underneath his hold and walking toward the dorm. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.”

  Scooping me up from behind, he flings me over his shoulder like I’m as light as a feather. He runs his hand up the back of my leg until he has ahold of my ass. Lifting his hand up, he springs it down quickly, giving me a slight spank. “Stop fighting me. You know you won’t win. Then agai
n, you can get mad all you want. You’re hot as fuck when you’re angry.”

  I’m not mad. Not at all. I’m dog tired. But for this man, I can muster up some energy.

  “My roommate is home,” I tell him. “Do I need to remind you, we share a damn room? We don’t have special dorms like you lucky assholes do.”

  Pausing, he turns back around, walking us to his truck. Opening the passenger door, he sets me inside before leaning into me. His mouth captures mine, and we do something we haven’t done in a long time—we just make out. Aggressively.

  His lips devour mine like he’s starving and I’m a damn cupcake, leaving my lips deliciously sore.

  Pulling back, breathless, he reaches between my legs, cupping me through my jeans. “Making out is hot and all, but I need in. Now,” he growls the last part.

  “Then, take me somewhere. Anywhere,” I breathe out.

  His eyes look like a lightbulb went off. As if he knows exactly the right place for us to go, so we can get as close as we can. Something we both always seem to crave with each other.

  Cole

  When she said to take her somewhere right away, I knew where to go. The first week here, sometimes, I just drove around. Oddly enough, I was trying to find places that made me feel closer to Ally. Closer to my home. One day, I ended up here.

  We drive on the grass path for a quarter of a mile until we come out to a small pond that is surrounded by a wooded area.

  It reminded me of the pond we’d found one day when we were exploring for hours in the woods, neither of us wanting to go home. We were only fourteen at the time, and I remember we were both sweating after walking so far. The water looked like heaven, but neither of us had a swimsuit.

  I went in my boxers, and she was in her tank top and panties. I think it was then that she finally saw me as more than just a friend. She saw me as hers.

  I was already head over heels, completely fucked up dumb in love with her. It took her a little longer to figure that out. At least, I think it did. She’s always hidden her feelings and emotions. With her, I’ve always laid it all out there, take it or leave it. What you see is what you get.

  Gazing out the front window at the headlight-lit pond, she smiles. “This is perfect.”

  “Remember that place we found when we went on one of our infamous adventures,” I ask her, reaching my hand over and resting it on her thigh.

  She laughs lightly. “Yeah, I do. Except the water in this pond looks a little cleaner. But that place was still perfect.”

  “Way better than going home.”

  She nods in agreement. It was muddy in that pond and far from clean. But after hiking through woods for three hours, it looked perfect. Besides, like I said, it was way better than being at home.

  We always stayed out of our foster parents’ home as late as we could. Just the two of us, often huddled in some weird place. Maybe the bleachers after football practice, a random riverbank we’d found, or a dugout when there wasn’t baseball going on. It wasn’t ideal, but we had each other.

  We came back to that same place all throughout high school. Strange enough, it’s also where she gave me her virginity—in the grass, under the stars, on a night in July. Two kids who had no fucking idea what they were doing but couldn’t get enough of each other from that point on.

  I’d like to get her to talk to me tonight. Make her tell me about whatever happened while I was at football camp. And to hear each and every detail in between. I want to know where she’s been, who she’s been with, if she was taken care of. I want to know everything.

  But just like a stray cat, all alone in an alley, she’s skittish. Even more so than before. I need to take my time in finding out whatever she’s hiding. She isn’t just going to open up to me right away. She needs to know I’m still the me I was before she left. I gained her trust when we were twelve. I’ll do it again now, no matter how long it takes. She’s worth the wait.

  Reaching out, she slides her hand up my shirt before tugging at it, eventually lifting it over my head. When she leans her head in, her lips find my neck, and slowly, she works her way up to my jawline and finally to my mouth.

  Her hands never touch the bottom right side of my back—she makes sure of it. She knows it’s a trigger for me, and she respects that. Any other girl would want to ask me five hundred questions about this scar. But she knows I don’t want to talk about it. Her scars are invisible to the naked eye, but that doesn’t make them any less than this scar on my body. I’ve come to realize, some of the most agonizing pain cannot be seen.

  Her tongue clashes with mine, and I devour her lips until I’m certain they are bruised. Her kisses always taste like Juicy Fruit gum because I swear, she chews that shit all the time.

  Grabbing a handful of her shirt, I tug. “Need you to take this off.”

  She eagerly does so, followed by her bra, exposing her perfect chest to me.

  Taking her nipple into my mouth, I lick before releasing it with a popping sound. “All mine,” I murmur between her tits before continuing downward and unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down. I cup my hand between her legs.

  She greedily grinds herself against my palm before reaching down, unbuttoning my jeans, and sliding them and my boxers down just far enough for me to spring free.

  Leaning her head forward, she gently bites my bottom lip while looking me in the eyes. She takes my dick into her hand and pumps slowly. “All mine,” she growls back at me.

  I can’t help the smirk on my face. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” I murmur against her skin.

  I fuck her with my fingers while her hand works me until I’ve had enough of it. I need to be inside of her. I can’t wait another fucking second.

  Reclining my seat, I roughly pull her onto me, landing her right on my dick. She hisses but instantly starts moving up and down. Her beautiful face is lit by the moonlight shining into the truck cab.

  She rides me hard, her tits moving up and down. The sexiest noises escape her lips, driving me mad.

  I know she’s close.

  “Should I pull out?” I choke the words out, praying she says no.

  Last night, we got caught up in the moment, and she let me go bare. I’m sure some might think it’s irresponsible to not use a condom, and with anyone else, I would have to agree. But this is Ally. And the thought of anything being between us, I can’t stand it. Besides, we’ve only ever been with each other. Something that is so fucking sacred to me.

  She shakes her head.

  Thank fuck.

  “Remember, I have the IUD. Please, I need you. All of you.”

  She puts her forehead to mine, and our lips linger over each other as we both come undone. I feel her tightening around me. Her sweet breath hitting my mouth as she breathes erratically.

  “I love you … so damn much.” I wrap my arms around her, digging my fingers into her back, not wanting to let her go. Never wanting to let her go.

  “I love you too. Thanks for always being the storm, my happy place.”

  “And a damn good lay, right?” I tip my chin up at her. “You sure sounded fully satisfied,” I say, reminding her of the bullshit she said at the movie theater. Partially satisfied, my ass.

  She laughs against me. “You’re all right, I suppose.”

  “All right? Pfft. This dick is some grade-A shit,” I scoff.

  Tilting her head to the side, she bites her bottom lip. “I’m not sure yet, but I’d be willing to go another round to see.”

  Since I first met Ally, my heart has been outside of my body and with her. Until the day I die, that’s the way it’s going to be.

  The wildest part? I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  seventeen

  Cole

  On my way to class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see Jenn, my adoptive mother’s name, on the screen.

  I debate on not answering, but I’ve been dodging both her and her husband’s calls a lot. Fuckers might be using me to be th
e next Blind Side movie or some shit, but they haven’t treated me badly. In fact, they treat me basically like their own kid. So, I guess I can’t be a complete dick to them.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Cole, hi. You picked up.” She sounds both surprised and relieved.

  I’d rather talk to Jenn than Matt. He’s nice and all, but it’s easier for me to be a dick to another dude. Jenn is a sweet lady who likes to talk and bake lots of shit.

  “Uh, well, you called me. So, yeah, I picked up.”

  “Oh, right, right. You are absolutely right.”

  How many times can someone say right in one sentence?

  “Matt and I, well, we wanted to come up for your next game. If that’s okay.” She pauses. “It’s all right if it isn’t. Although we’d be so bummed. But, like I said, it would be all right. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Cole,” she stammers and trips over her own words.

  I have no idea why I hold the ability to make this woman so nervous, but all I know is that I do.

  They asked to come to my other games and get dinner after, but I gave them the cold shoulder. I turned eighteen in July, so technically, they aren’t really my adoptive parents anymore. But they keep trying to stay in my life. I’m sure it’s just for the chance when I make it into the NFL and they can point and smile, nodding their heads, like, Yep, we did that. We’re responsible for making him great.

  And to that, all I have to say is, fuck that. I made myself great. The coaches I’ve had made me great. Not them.

  “Uh …” I scratch the back of my neck, not really wanting them to come, but also not loving the idea of having to tell her that. “Sure,” I say nervously, clearing my throat. “I, uh, I guess.”

  “Really?!” her voice squeals. “Oh goodness, I’m so excited. Wait till I tell Matt. He has been dying to get out there and watch you play. I even got a jersey with your name on it!” She giggles. “But I totally don’t have to wear it if it will make you uncomfortable, I mean,” she says when I don’t reply. “I can leave it in the closet.”

 

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