by M. E. Carter
I assume we’re on our way back to his dorm. It would make sense under the circumstances. While our flirting hasn’t been intense, the attraction is definitely there. Small glances, cute comments, the whole shebang. Asking me out was obviously the next step, and we’ve had such a good time tonight.
It wasn’t just the dancing, though. It was the conversation at dinner before. It was the similar interests, the coordinating class schedules, even when he asked questions about Annika having to speak at her rapist’s trial and commenting on how much he admires her ability to do that. We just seem to connect. It’s been amazing.
So, while going back to his place with him might seem like a big step to some, it seems completely natural to me. It’s time to move this thing along, and I’m more than ready to see the muscles he’s been keeping concealed under his workout shorts. I can already tell this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful thing.
It takes less time than I anticipate to get to his dorm where we can be alone. Con lucked out and got a single room. They’re usually divvied out by first-come, first-served for upperclassmen, but when the original occupant backed out over the summer to move off-campus, Con had just secured his transfer and put in his application at the right time. Instead of messing with the waiting list, housing administration just gave it to him.
No hardship there. It just means we can be truly alone without worrying anyone will barge in on us. If this night goes the way I hope it does, I’d rather we not be interrupted.
The moment we step into the small room, Con immediately turns and pushes me up against the door, his lips crashing into mine. His intentions become crystal clear as his tongue delves into my mouth and his hands push my arms up over my head.
I like this position. Something about having my arms up gives me the feeling that I’m giving him complete control without losing any of mine. Maybe it’s because my torso is more exposed now that my off the shoulder crop-top is hitched up more.
I gasp when his hands find the smooth skin on my stomach. The rough calluses slid up my sides as he lifts my shirt all the way up and over my head, dropping it to the floor as my hair cascades around us. The entire movement is sexy as hell and gives me a surge of hormones.
Cupping his cheek, I pull him back in for another kiss, my other hand grabbing at the hem of his shirt, my own intentions now very clear as well.
As soon as the offending article of clothing is gone, my hands have a chance to explore like they’ve been itching to do for months. Conrad Turner’s body does not disappoint. Every muscle in his back, his obliques, his abs, his shoulders—oh wow, his shoulders are so fucking sexy. There is not one part of him that is not rock hard. And I do mean every. Single. Part.
Now that the frenzy has begun, there is no stopping it. I haven’t had mind-blowing sex in—well, that’s not relevant right now, and I am easily distracted from my thoughts when he picks me up under the knees, wraps my legs around his waist, and carries me to his bed. Slowly, using all that muscle strength he has, he lowers me onto the mattress. Holy shit that strength is sexy.
Our pace slows as we find our groove, hips beginning to grind as we seek friction. We kiss and suckle and nip, exploring each other’s bodies, leaving nothing untouched. It’s erotic and sensual and so fucking good. When the last of our clothes disappear from between us, my heart feels like it might burst from anticipation of the orgasm I’m hoping to have and the relationship that’s just beginning.
“Condom,” I whisper, because as much as I want him in this moment, I also know bad things can lay dormant in your bloodstream for years. I have Jaxon’s new pre-med classes to thank for that piece of knowledge.
My demand doesn’t bother Con, though, who reaches into the bedside table and pulls one out, sheathing himself quickly before stretching his body over top of mine.
He pushes inside and pumps fast and furious, his pace quicker than I anticipate and yet there is power behind his thrusts. So much power it drives me to seek my own pleasure as quickly as possible.
Reaching my hand between us, I find my clit and begin rubbing, trying to keep up with his pace. The look on his face tells me he won’t last long, which is probably to be expected. With the intense sexual tension between us from the beginning, it’s no surprise we’ve gotten this close this quickly.
Con lets out a groan of pleasure before I reach my release and I begin rubbing even faster. “Don’t stop yet, baby. I’m almost there.”
But his movement becomes slower as his body comes down from the high. “I can’t keep going, babe,” he whispers. “So sorry, but I can’t.”
His body stills above mine as my orgasm fades away. I’m disappointed in this turn of events, but I’m not actually surprised. People like to pretend the first time with someone is this explosive moment where you feel like you float off in the sky as the orgasm rocks you to your core. But that is mostly fantasy. Good sex, great sex takes time. It takes practice. It takes getting to know your partner and what they like and don’t like.
We have time to get it right, and personally, I’m looking forward to the practice.
Con gives me a quick kiss on the lips and wraps the now disheveled covers around us. “That was great babe, thanks.”
I giggle and shake my head. He’s got a few things to learn, I think as I start to drift off. But I’m more than happy to teach him.
• • •
The warmth of the sun on my face rouses me from my sleep. The warmth of the person behind me rouses my body as well.
I smile as the memories of last night infiltrate my mind. The dinner. The dancing. The sex.
It wasn’t mind-blowing by any means, but it meant something to me. And there is nothing else in the world like the feeling of someone else with you in such an intimate position. His weight on top of you, his length inside you, his eyes staring into yours. Even bad sex is good when all those other factors are there.
Con begins to stir, his body lying face down and turned toward the wall. I run my foot down his leg, hoping to help wake him. “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” I say quietly. “Did you sleep well?”
Before he can answer, the door flies open, at least six of our male teammates barreling in, laughing and shoving at each other.
“Hey!” I screech, pulling the blanket up over top of my very naked body. I know I wear skimpy workout clothes in front of these guys, but there are still parts of me I like to keep private.
Bryce Walker, partial scholarship recipient and complete douchebag, ignores me and jumps on the bed, slapping Con on the back to wake him up. “What are you doing in bed so late, man? We’re supposed to drive into town today, remember? San Antonio Riverwalk for some guy time.”
Holding one hand tight to the blanket, I use the other to push Bryce off the small bed. I catch him at the exact right angle as soon as he bounces and his feet leave the mattress, so he doesn’t just stumble, he practically flies off to the floor, landing on his ass. The other guys burst out laughing at his less than perfect landing while he glares at me, venom in his eyes.
“What the fuck, Bagley? I could have been injured right before the season starts.”
“You should have thought of that before you barged in here,” I shoot right back at him. I’ve known Bryce since my freshman year and he’s always been an entitled, elitist asshole. There’s no love lost between us. Flicking my wrist at him, I add, “Can you guys leave so I can get dressed?”
“Please,” he responds as he stands up and brushes off his rear end. “It’s not like anyone cares to see those mosquito bites you call boobs.”
I turn to Con who is propped up on his elbows, rubbing his hand down his face as he becomes coherent. I’m pissed now and hoping to get some back up from him because this isn’t okay. But Con says nothing. He doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he climbs out of bed, almost exposing my naked body to the room as he carelessly flings the covers aside. No one even takes a second glance at him despite his own nakedness.
“Seriously, Con? Yo
u’re just going to let them hang out in here?” I ask, getting angrier as Bryce grabs the remote and flips the television on.
Pulling his shorts over his hips, Con finally looks at me. “Um, yeah. They’re my friends, and we have plans. But maybe it’s time for you to go.”
Several of the guys snicker at his dismissal and Ellery’s warning comes back to haunt me. It finally hits me that all the weeks of flirting, leading up to last night, was just a game to him. It wasn’t actual interest. It wasn’t about dating and getting to know me. The goal was to get in my pants, and I fell for it.
Hurt and humiliation race through me, my anxieties skyrocketing. I’m so fucking stupid. I know better than to trust that any man has genuine intentions toward me. I’m not the girl you fall in love with. I’m the girl you bang until the one you want to be with comes along. Girls like me are a dime a dozen. I have never felt so strongly about that than I do in this moment.
I allow myself one deep breath. Only one to put my brave face on—to draw on my anger and my faux self-confidence so I can make it out of this room with the minimal amount of drama.
“I’d love to leave, asshole, but my clothes are over there.”
The look he gives me chills me to my core. The shy glances and flirty winks are gone. No, this is complete indifference of me as a human being. As if being a decent person is wasted on someone like me.
“You put out on a first date,” he says with a chuckle. “Since when do you care who sees you naked?”
The words hurt badly, especially after what transpired last night. But I refuse to lower my bravado. Instead, I mutter, “Big words coming from a five-pump chump,” and I lean back against the wall, settling in. I would rather sit here in abject humiliation than get up and get my clothes. I don’t trust any of these guys to not “accidentally” pull the sheet away from my body, and I certainly don’t trust any of them not to record it while it happens. So here I sit, until they leave.
“Dude, hurry up and go shower the skank off of you,” Bryce, the douche, remarks. “We need to hit the road in like ten minutes if we’re going to get a good parking spot. I don’t want to pay for parking.”
“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” he says, staring at his phone while he scrolls.
I shake my head and look away, trying to brush off the sting of Bryce’s comment. I have known these guys for years. I have spent thousands of hours training with them. And yet, not one of them has been on my dating radar. Now, I know why. My gut may have failed me with Con, but it nailed it with everyone else.
I accidentally catch the eye of Kevin, the lone ginger on our team and probably the shiest of the bunch. He’s standing with his back up against the door, like he might bolt at any minute. He gives me the tiniest of smiles before gathering my clothes and handing them to me, immediately returning to his preferred spot.
The gesture doesn’t change the position I’m in or the anger I feel toward everyone in this room, but I feel a little less murderous toward Kevin. At least he has the decency to help me out. And he’s staring at the floor now, too, ears bright red. I suspect if anyone understands how I must be feeling right now, it’s him.
Doesn’t change the fact that he’s not standing up to his friends, but I’ll at least give him credit for attempting to help me out. This time.
Getting dressed while staying covered under the blanket proves to be as difficult as one would imagine. My toes end up doing a lot of the work holding the cover in place when my hands are tugging fabric over my body. But I’m finally clothed and able to leave this nightmare behind.
The guys completely ignore me, too busy talking shop and about their plans for the day to give a shit that I’ve grabbed my shoes and clutch. Except for Kevin. He has the decency to move out of the way and give me a small smile before opening the door. I have no idea if the smile is genuine, but at least it’s not a quip about what a whore I am.
As soon as the door closes behind me, the room explodes with laughter. I wipe away the stray tear that has finally broken free and quickly slip my shoes on.
I know my feet are going to hurt from walking home in these heels, but that pain is nothing compared to how beaten up I feel on the inside.
FOUR
Heath
I wake up with a start, although I’m not sure why. There are no alarms going off. Everything sounds quiet in the building. Jaxon isn’t even here, so it’s not his snoring.
Doesn’t matter. Once I’m awake, that’s it for the day, so I might as well get moving.
Rolling myself out of bed, I stretch my back and neck muscles that have cramped up during the night before heading to the communal bathroom for my morning piss.
It’s quiet in the hall, probably because I’m the only one awake. It’s early Sunday morning, after all, and everyone is likely sleeping off the effects of a post-game frat party I didn’t go to.
Jaxon seems to think I’m a morning person, and there may be some truth to that, although I never noticed until I moved in with him. I don’t seem to have the same issue gaining consciousness in the morning as my roommate. He’s like a zombie until he’s had at least two cups of coffee. But he’s also wide awake at midnight, when I can’t keep my eyes open.
Okay yeah. Maybe I am a morning person.
I’m grateful for the early start today, though, because I have some major studying to do. As a senior with a double major in business and finance, my classes are starting to get tough. Business law, in particular, is kicking my ass, and is probably more than I wanted to know anyway. I only decided on these majors so if—I mean, when—I get into the pros, I don’t have to rely on someone else to manage my affairs. Sure, I’ll still have to hire an agent and all. Playing football requires more than forty hours a week of work, and I’ll need someone to carry the brunt of the load that comes with having that much money. But I at least want to be able to read over my own contracts and have a basic understanding of what they mean. Too many people have gotten screwed over by someone who either didn’t care or didn’t know what they were doing. I refuse to be the next sucker. So, no easy degree for me.
Besides, it’s only an extra four classes to go from one major to two. Might as well take advantage of it.
Pulling on jeans, because around here, sixty-something temperatures are on the chilly side, I wash my face, brush my teeth, and slap on some deodorant. I’ll probably have the whole library to myself, but there’s no reason to leave a lingering trail of funk behind me after I finish.
Once I’m fully dressed, I grab all my stuff and head out the door, opting to drive instead of walk. Southeast San Antonio is a big campus, and I’m feeling lazy today. Besides, I’m pretty sure there is a box of protein bars in the center console for breakfast.
The drive to the library isn’t normally more than five minutes. It would take me twenty if I was hiking it. Plus, I was right… there is food in my car, which is great. That means I’ll be able to last at least an extra hour with my nose in a book before needing to inhale more calories.
As I turn down the main road, headed to my stop, a tiny blonde woman catches my attention. Her head is down, arms wrapped around her waist, as she walks. She’s only wearing a short skirt and an oversized shirt, so she’s probably cold. I wish there was something I could do, but I’ve learned that in this day and age, women don’t take too kindly to strange men offering them rides. I get it. I have three sisters. I’d be furious if one of them climbed in the car with some random dude just to make it to their destination on time.
And realistically, it’s cool outside, not freezing. Whoever she is, she might be uncomfortable, but she’s not in any danger from hypothermia.
My truck drives past her and I happen to glance over just as she looks up.
Lauren? What is she doing out this early?
She’s not dressed for practice which can only mean she’s doing the walk of shame. I’m not necessarily surprised by that realization.
Lauren has always been a flirt. Over exaggeratingly so
. It grates on my nerves because she comes off as shallow and like a party girl. Is she those things? No idea. But she certainly doesn’t let anyone close enough to find out, and she’s the exact kind of girl I’ve always been warned to avoid. When Jaxon and Annika got together, I tried to brush aside my biases. I really did. Our two best friends were going through a terrible time with the trial, so we all stuck kind of close together. We were like the four musketeers. Except two of the musketeers could never figure out how to get along and ended up hating each other. Hate might be a little too strong. Consider it a personality conflict.
Still, she’s Annika’s best friend and I feel bad that she’s obviously cold. Plus, if listening to my sisters’ bitch about how uncomfortable women’s shoes are, Lauren’s feet have to be covered in blisters with the weird strappy heels she’s tromping around in.
Irritated with myself for caring so much, I sigh and pull over to the side. As I wait for her to walk by, I roll down the passenger side window. A frigid wind blows in. Somehow the temperature seems to have dropped in the last few minutes.
“Lauren,” I call out when she’s finally close enough to hear me.
She whips around, a look of horror on her face. I don’t know if it’s because it’s me or because she got caught wearing hooker clothes on an early Sunday morning. From the way her shoulders slump as she sees my face, I assume she’s more worried about being caught.
She straightens up quickly though, putting on a brave face that isn’t quite as effective with all the makeup smudges.
“Heath,” she deadpans. “What brings you out so early in the morning?”
“Studying,” I respond with my own nonchalance. “I’d ask the same of you, but I think it’s pretty clear you’re finally getting home for the night.”
She winces and looks down at the ground, avoiding my eyes.
Shit. Now I feel bad. Whatever happened apparently didn’t end well if she’s not tossing barbs back my direction. I may not like her, but I don’t want to kick her when she’s down either.