“Fuuuuck.” He drawls out the word and closes his eyes.
I slide my hands up his chest and link my arms around his neck. “Okay by you?”
He nods and just as I’m feeling fully in control, he has me on the bed and is braced above me. His muscular arms press into the mattress, caging me in as he stares down at me like I’m everything.
He stands and pulls his T-shirt over his head before lying back beside me. Hooking a finger into the V of my shirt, Wes tugs just enough to show a bit more skin. “I really want to see what’s underneath, but damn, you look good wearing my jersey.”
“The whole point of putting it on was for you to take it off.”
He grins and slides his hands to the hem and slowly inches it up as if he wants to delay the surprise underneath. “So beautiful.”
As he stares down at me and his navy eyes darken, I fall a little deeper under his spell. He’s everything I never knew I wanted or thought to fantasize about. Smart, fun, loyal, and smoking hot. His muscular body moves with elegance and confidence that is as hot as it is commanding.
I’m not nearly as patient as I scramble to get naked and then free him of his jeans and boxer briefs. Maybe I should have aspired to the Joel Moreno life motto, because the sight of Wes’s naked body is nearly orgasmic on its own. His penis is the kind of perfection that romance novels are written about.
“Need to study this gorgeous body,” he murmurs against my lips. The heat of his gaze rakes over me. True to his words, he looks at me as if he wants to memorize every detail as he trails kisses down my body. He places one at my belly button that sends a tremble down my spine.
“Can you study later . . . or maybe during?”
His smile is slow and cocky. “So impatient.”
One long finger trails up my inner thigh and slips inside me, causing my hips to rock into his palm. He fucks me with one finger and then two, circling my clit with his thumb. I open my eyes to find his gaze still hard and studying.
His hands are magic. As my moans fill the silence of his bedroom, his lips find the pulse in my neck, and he sucks hard. My orgasm tears through me at rocket speed, and I call out his name as I shatter.
“Perfection.” He dusts kisses down my body, places a kiss on my hip, and then trails back up. “I want to hear you say my name like that again.”
He reaches to the nightstand and pulls out a condom, and I watch on greedily as he slips it on. I’ll happily say his name any way he wants, as many times as he wants, if he makes me feel like that again.
I stare hard at his beautiful penis as he fists it and guides it to my entrance. I’m mesmerized as our bodies join. He stretches me gloriously, and I let out a sigh of complete contentment.
“You good?”
Good? No. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Super,” I say as I reach up and rub both breasts.
His size and strength and endurance make me realize what I’ve been missing out on, and I suddenly comprehend the devotion of the jersey chasers.
His eyes stay on me as he pumps in and out at a delicious pace that promises another bone-melting orgasm. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but the way he looks at me, as if somehow this is a big deal even though we’ve said from the start that this is casual, is as hot as the rest of him. He has promised me nothing but has given me everything.
I push away all thought, letting the sensations overwhelm and pull me under.
“Wes,” I say as my lids close with the pressure of my second orgasm.
He slams into me harder grunting out my name as he shudders through his release.
The next morning, I wake to an empty bed. I miss the heat of him immediately. I open my eyes and stretch my limbs, feeling the soreness of last night and bask in it. Wes is gone, which I knew he would be, and the house is quiet. I sit up in his bed and spy my name written on a note on his desk. Pulling the blanket around me, I stand and walk over to it. I pick it up and turn it over, but the note says nothing else. I frown until I spot what’s resting behind it—a paper rose folded intricately and perfectly. I lift it and clutch it carefully to my chest. Damn, he really is good with his hands.
19
Wes
We’re on a high after winning our first game of the season and end up at The Hideout when we get back to Valley. It’s packed, especially for a Sunday night. Blair sits on my lap, and Z and Nathan are across the table from us, arguing over who is getting the next round from the bar.
“I’ll get a round. I want to go say hi to Vanessa, anyway.”
I let her go, watching as she pushes through to the other side of the bar where Mario and Vanessa sit with a group of baseball guys, including Shaw, who is still on my shit list. Rookie had two turnovers in the six minutes he was on the floor. The same six minutes I sat on the bench and watched in combined frustration and pain.
Nathan’s phone rings, and he silences it as he shakes his head. Z glances over and smirks. “Don’t ignore your momma, boy. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’ll call her later,” Nathan insists.
Zeke reaches over and picks up the phone, answering it before Nathan can stop him. “Hello, Mrs. Payne. It’s Zeke.”
Nathan grumbles and reaches for the phone, but Z moves the phone to the other ear. “Thank you, ma'am, I appreciate it. The team played well today. Yeah, your son is right here. Good to talk to you, Mrs. Payne.”
He hands the phone over to an angry-looking Nathan.
Jealousy eats at me. I absently check my own phone. Nothing. I feel a bit like a sullen child who is sitting around and wishing his parents would call or text or in some way acknowledge that he had a game today. I know they’re a thousand miles away and it isn’t like I expect them to make it to every game, but a good job or I’m proud of you text once in a while would be nice. I guess a hardship of being the parents of an elite athlete is that it gets old watching your kid win trophies and travelling to games every week because somewhere along the way, my parents totally checked out. They probably assumed they’d told me enough times they were proud that they could just stop.
“I think I’ll help Blair.”
I see the pity in Z’s eyes. Nothing gets past him, and I may not express my disappointment in my parents, but he knows me too well not to pick up on it.
Mario slides off the bar stool as I get near. “Congrats on the game. How’s the foot holding up?”
“It’s getting there,” I tell him. It’s my new canned answer since it’s the only thing people want to hear.
I look past him to Vanessa but missing in action is Blair. Did I pass her? Where’d she go?
“Hey, Vanessa.” She eyes me warily, clearly still not convinced that I’m not gonna drop kick her friend’s heart. Kiddie gloves are on with Blair. All the way on. I’m doing my best not to screw this up. She’s a cool chick, and I like spending time with her. “Where’d our girl go?”
“That douche canoe David grabbed her.” She points to the corner of the bar where Blair is talking to a guy I don’t know but instantly don’t like. He’s backed her into a dark space and leers over her in a way that sets all my alarm bells off.
“David?”
“Her ex-boyfriend,” Vanessa says. Blair and I haven’t gotten into the specifics of our past dating life. She mentioned she dated, but she played it off like it was no big deal. By the way Vanessa looks at me, it’s clear Blair left some important things out.
I step toward them, trying to keep an air of calm while I’m nothing but a knot of defensiveness as I approach.
"Everything okay?" I ask, leaving a few feet of space between myself and the back of the prick talking to my girl. Yeah, my girl. I'm regretting not laying down a claim.
Blair’s demeanor changes when she sees me. Her shoulders sag in relief but then stiffen as if she feels some weirdness about being caught talking to her ex. David turns with a scowl and gives me a once over.
“Mind your own business. We’re having a conversation that doesn’t have anythi
ng to do with you.”
Aww, hell no. I place myself between David and Blair. “My girl looks upset. I’d say that’s my business.”
His lip curls. “Your girl?” He looks to Blair for verification. I don’t bother checking her reaction because I can practically feel anxiety roll off her in waves.
“Wes.” I extend a hand, and the bastard glances at my palm and then dismisses it. Dismisses me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” With a final patronizing glance, David turns and disappears into the crowd.
I wait until he’s completely out of sight before I turn to Blair. “You okay?”
Her hands shake in front of her. “Yes. I’m fine. You didn’t need to do that. We were just talking.”
I cross my arms and study her. I’m calling bullshit, but I can’t decide if she’s playing it off because he’s an asshole or because she’s embarrassed I caught her in a dark corner with another guy. “Friend of yours?”
“We dated last year. He was just asking about classes. I’m sorry if it looked like it was anything.”
“No reason to be sorry. You looked upset, and I wanted to make sure everything was good.”
“So, that wasn’t you peeing all around me?” Her lips pull into a knowing smile, calling me out for referring to her as my girl.
I rub a hand over my jaw. “Might have been a little of that.”
“Don’t worry.” She closes the space between us and throws her arms around my neck. It’s her go-to move, and I love the way it presses our bodies together. The contact immediately sends communication down below. Red alert, hot girl is touching you. Yep, I’m fourteen years old again. “I have zero interest in David. He’s a total . . .” She waves a hand at my ear like she’s grappling for the right word. “Douche canoe.”
“You ready to get out of here?” Ex-boyfriends, reminders of parents who don’t give a fuck? Yeah, I’m ready to bounce.
She places her hand in mine and tugs. “Bless out.”
20
Blair
“Blair, what is all this? Your bag weighs a ton.” Vanessa struggles to move my backpack from the small table at the library so she can sit.
I barely look up from my laptop. “I have a paper due in econ, reading for American literature, and about a million other things before my shift at the café this afternoon.”
“You stay at Wes’s last night?”
“How do you know? Did you go back to the house?” Screw my paper, if Vanessa knows I wasn’t at our place, it means she wasn’t with Mario.
“Yeah, I just needed a night off from Mario.” She says it flippantly, but the perfectly curled hair and extra makeup speaks volumes.
She’s overcompensating.
“Oh no, why? I like Mario.” I’ve done my best to keep my opinions about Vanessa’s boyfriend to myself because nothing scares her more than approval, but Mario seems great. I’ve never seen Vanessa happier.
“It’s just too much. He’s too much. I keep waiting for all his scary flaws to appear. I mean, no man can possibly be as perfect as he is. Seeing David last night reminded me that perfect on the outside hides a whole bunch of crazy on the inside.”
Great. The aftermath of Hurricane David continues to unveil more damage. “Mario is nothing like David.”
“Or maybe Mario is just good at hiding his crazy like David is.”
“What’s this really about? David and I have been broken up for months, you’ve dated other guys since my break up.”
“I . . .” She pauses and twists the gold ring she wears on her thumb. “I like him,” she says quietly.
I hide my glee that she’s finally admitted it. “Then, please, for the love of God, don’t let David be the reason you don’t trust Mario.”
“I was worried you were going to fall back under his spell when I saw you two together. What did he have to say at the bar last night?”
I consider telling her the truth, but if she knew just how calculating and horrible David really is, then she might see that as a sign to steer clear of men, and I don’t want that for her. David is an asshole, but he doesn’t represent every guy. I sure hope not, anyway.
“Not much. Wes walked over, and David took off.”
“I saw that! I was so freaking glad when Wes got between you two. I only wish he’d punched him.”
I laugh, mostly because I’d wished that too.
“You aren’t thinking of getting back with David then? Because you’re finally starting to seem like the old you.”
I’m starting to feel like the old me as well. “No, I’m absolutely not getting back together with him. What’s more important is when you’re going to tell Mario how you feel.”
She stands, clearly the interrogation has gone beyond her comfort level because we’re talking about her feelings, and V doesn’t do feelings. “Why would I do that?”
After she leaves, I spend the next three hours in the library and then hustle over to the café to relieve Katrina. She’s beyond frazzled and knee-deep in supplies as she restocks everything.
“Everything okay?”
“My sitter just bailed, and I have to pick up Christian at daycare in ten minutes.”
“Go. I have this.”
She looks around at the mess, hesitating. I know she’d do the same for me in a heartbeat, so I place my hands on my hips and smile. “Seriously, go. It’s no big deal.”
“I owe you,” Katrina says, hopping over the box and untying her apron.
Monday afternoons are slow after the lunch rush, but Monday evenings are not, so I enjoy a bit of down time stocking shelves and singing along to the cheesy nineties’ music playing over the university station.
My mood is high until David walks through the door. His demeanor makes it clear he’s here to see me and knew he could catch me alone. I hate the way my body responds like it’s a fight or flight moment. I desperately want to be emotionally detached enough for his presence not to send me into panic mode.
“What do you want, David? I’m at work.”
“Tall house blend.” Black like his soul. “And put one of those inspirational quotes on there for me, would you?” He has the audacity to wink.
I remind myself that killing him would only get me thrown in jail while I get his coffee and write “Choose kindness” onto the cup. “Here ya go.”
He looks down at the quote and smiles.
“You’re banging the basketball team now, huh?”
Arizona has the death penalty.
Arizona has the death penalty.
“My life isn’t your business anymore, David.”
“Oh, but it is. Especially if it interferes with our arrangement.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“That bullshit paper you wrote on Chopin got me a B. You’re distracted, and it’s fucking up my GPA.”
“I’m distracted because I’m doing two people’s homework.”
“I need this one on Friday.” He slides me a piece of paper with the details. David’s been careful to leave no electronic paper trail. Only paper copies that we both know would easily be dismissed if I ever went to anyone and tried to tell them what was going on. “It better be an A paper, Blair. I’d hate to have to embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend.”
The thought of Wes knowing about any of this makes the muffin I ate fifteen minutes ago feel like a brick in my stomach. Trapped and angry, I watch him walk out of the café and vow to end this somehow, someway.
21
Wes
Blair and I sit on the floor of the gym while we wait for Z and Joel so we can all study for our next statistics quiz.
"You play over Thanksgiving break?" she asks, clearly surprised by this revelation that we have a tournament the weekend after Turkey Day.
"Yep, it's one of our busiest times. With no school, we get to focus solely on ball. Christmas break is the same."
"So, you don't get to see your family?"
I shake my head but don’t meet he
r eyes as I say, "We get a full week off for Christmas. I'll see them then. I usually go to Joel's house for Thanksgiving. Mama Moreno invites the whole team and anyone else who doesn't have anywhere to go."
She lets out a little huff that’s her adorable version of being appalled. "My family is ditching me this year. My brother and sister-in-law invited my parents on a Disney cruise. I think I'm gonna go home to see Gabby, though. Plus, it’ll be good to get away for a week." Her tone has bite, and I wonder why she’s so anxious to go home to an empty house.
I can’t bring myself to feel too sorry for her. Judging by her annoyance, I'd guess this is the first time she hasn't seen her folks during a holiday break. I was probably like that the first time my parents bailed too. Now I’m just indifferent. Well, I’m trying to be. After years of my parents planning vacations that in no way work around my schedule, it's clear they don't care if they see me for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
“Let’s do this,” Joel calls out as he and Z enter the gym. “I have a date in an hour.”
The stuff we’re going over tonight doesn’t lend itself that well to my usual basketball analogies, but it’s good to be on the court with my boys and my girl. When Nathan shows up, clearly bored and looking for something to do, we give up statistics altogether and start running through plays. Blair fills in the place of our power forward, Malone. She’s about a foot and a half shorter and a buck fifty lighter, but she’s way better to look at.
Damn, it feels good. Nah, feels right to be playing around with my roommates and to have Blair here.
“You guys wanna hit The Hideout?” Nathan asks the rest of us as Joel hustles off the court to get ready for his date.
“Negative ghost rider,” Z says and shakes his head.
The Assist (Smart Jocks #1) Page 13