Downed (Gridiron #3)

by Jen Frederick

  His sweet, fumbling admission powered me through two weekends full of planning and participating in date nights. It was a total pain in the behind, particularly since some of those fraternity boys can be a handful. I swear, it’s like dealing with children.

  Truthfully, I’m excited to see Ace tonight, because I could use a dose of his rough, direct ways. Ace doesn’t bow at my feet or pour on the affected manners when he’s around me. He always says exactly what’s on his mind, and I have to admit that’s very refreshing.

  Well, except when I don’t like what’s on his mind. Case in point—right now.

  “You didn’t tell me you were dating other guys!”

  I roll my eyes at his incensed expression. The boy all but stomped into the AO kitchen after Dawn let him in at the front doors, and now he’s scowling at me. To make matters worse, Dawn and a few of my sisters have decided to stand in the doorway and eavesdrop in plain sight.

  Rather than answer Ace, I point a finger at the girls. “Go to your rooms, missies. This is a private conversation.”

  Kayla decides to be difficult. “It’s a communal kitchen,” she says in a singsong voice.

  I swallow my aggravation. “Kayla.”

  “Oh, fine. We’re gone. Have fun fighting.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Ace and I say in unison.

  My sorority sisters’ laughter follows them all the way down the hall.

  I turn back to Ace. “I’m not dating other people,” I say firmly.

  “Bullshit,” he shoots back. “I asked Julio on the bus earlier what these ‘date nights’ were, and he said all you sorority girls pair off with douchey frat guys and drink and party and all that shit!”

  A laugh lodges in my throat. Yes, “all that shit” about sums it up. Both parties required a thirty-minute bus ride to the event site. Everyone but me, since I volunteered to be the sober sister, had pre-gamed and bypassed Tipsy Town on their way to Passedoutville.

  Two Sigma pledges lost their dinner on the bus ride, which meant that we were not getting our damage deposit returned. During the Zeta Nu dinner, one of the young fraternity brothers ditched his AO date, which meant consoling that poor child while ensuring the elders in the Zeta Nu house meted out appropriate punishment or we AOs would never do another date night with them again.

  “If it helps, my date for Saturday was a lovely gay Sigma brother who spoke about his boyfriend back home the entire time.”

  “That does make me feel better,” Ace says grudgingly.

  “Wonderful. Now come here and kiss me hello, sugar.”

  His hard expression fades and when I beckon with my finger, he eliminates the distance and pulls me into his arms. I melt against his broad chest, which is encased in a tight T-shirt and an open button-down shirt. He looks like heaven. Smells like it, too, I discover when I press my face to his neck and breathe him in. His woodsy scent makes my girlie parts tingle. Careful, I think, you’re letting him affect you too much.

  I really am, and it’s disconcerting. I found that I missed him, genuinely missed him, these past two weeks. We hardly saw each other because Daddy was riding the boys hard at practice, and then they were away both weekends. We haven’t made love since the night he climbed through my window.

  “Fuck,” Ace mutters against my lips. “This ass.” He squeezes the ass in question, sending a shiver through me. His hands are so big and masculine. I crave their feel on my body. “I missed this ass, Bryant.”

  I laugh softly. “Are you done being jealous over nothing?”

  He pulls back and narrows his eyes at me. “I probably should have told you this before, but I don’t like sharing.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” a voice chirps from the doorway.

  “Kayla!” I chide as my sorority sister skips into the kitchen.

  She shrugs. “What? The forums are rife with stories of Ace Anderson’s legendary threesomes back at Western State.”

  Ace pales a little. “Forums?” he echoes suspiciously.

  I glower at Kayla, who’s sauntering over to the pantry. I cannot believe she brought up the forums. That’s a sorority secret. But she seems completely unrepentant as she pokes her head out of the pantry to address Ace. “Girls talk, hon. That’s all I have to say on that.”

  Anger begins to simmer in my belly. Why did she have to say anything at all? I don’t want Ace thinking that the women at his former college are saying nasty things about him. He already had one bad game because his father caused him to lose his concentration. We can’t have that happening again.

  That’s why you’re mad? Because you’re worried he’ll play poorly?

  All right, fine. That’s not the only reason I’m bothered. I’m sure whatever reputation Ace had at Western State was mostly deserved, but he came here for a fresh start. I don’t want him backsliding into hound dog territory because he thinks all the girls at Southern believe he’s a sleaze.

  “Girls talk,” I agree, placing a hand on Ace’s biceps. “And the only thing every girl at this college is talking about is how incredibly you’ve played this season.”

  Ace relaxes. Slightly. I can tell he’s still troubled by what Kayla said, and I shoot a glare at my friend as she pulls out a packet of popcorn. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She simply walks to the microwave and pops in the package.

  “We’re having a Julia Roberts rom com marathon in Chryselle’s room,” Kayla tells us. “Do you guys want to join us?”

  “No, Ace and I have plans,” I answer, a tad stiffly. She ignores that, either.

  “Okay, well, if you change your mind…” She grabs a big bowl and sets it on the counter. After the microwave beeps, she dumps the popcorn into the bowl, gives us a jaunty wave, and leaves the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about that,” I tell Ace. “Kayla was just being…” Needlessly mean? Although I don’t know if that was even her intention.

  “It’s fine.” He props a hip against the granite island. “It’s not like she was wrong. I’ve had threesomes.”

  Something hot and unpleasant coils in my tummy. Is that jealousy? Disapproval? Maybe both.

  Ace sees my expression and gives me a half-smile. “What, are you one of those girls who’s going to punish me because I had sex before I met you?”

  “No.” I swallow. “I know you were a player.” I swallow again. “But that’s all in the past, right?” I say firmly.

  “Right.” He walks back to me and runs one finger along my bare arm. Goose bumps rise in its wake. “So we have plans, huh? Do those plans include us going up to your room and making love like bunnies?”

  “He’s learning!” I beam at him. Then I kill the hope in his eyes. “But no, that’s not what we’re doing. Sadie won’t allow you upstairs, but she said it was okay if you came by and helped me with the cake.”

  “The cake?”

  “Yes. We’re baking a cake.”

  Ace stares at me for a moment. “Bryant.”

  “Yes?”

  “I haven’t had sex in two weeks. My hand is sore.”

  I smile at him. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to make love. We can go to your place after we’re done baking.”

  His lips twitch. “I see.”

  “Is there a problem?” I ask sweetly.

  After a beat, he sighs. “Nope. No problem at all.”

  “Wonderful. Now grab the flour from the pantry and let’s get started.”

  As promised, I let Ace whisk me out of the AO house the moment the oven dings and the cake is cooling on the counter. He’s so eager to get me out of my clothes that he doesn’t even want to taste the cake. “I’d rather taste you,” he rasps in my ear, and he keeps one hand firmly planted on my thigh during the entire drive.

  When we’re alone in his bedroom, he has me naked before I can blink, and we tumble onto his bed, our mouths locked and our hands eager. My need for him seems to be intensifying rather than abating. Every time I see him, I get hotter than a Nashville sidewalk in August.
Every time he kisses me, I melt like warm butter in the sun.

  I think this project might be getting complicated. I think I like Ace Anderson more than I should. I think a lot of things, but right now, as he slides his pulsing cock inside my body and pumps me into oblivion, I’m not thinking about anything but how good it feels to dig my nails into his back and hold on for the wild ride.

  Once we recover from our respective orgasms, Ace ties off the condom and drops it into his trash, then gathers me into his arms and sighs happily. “Shit, I needed that. I wasn’t kidding about my hand.” He holds it up. “See these new calluses? That’s from jacking off, you cruel woman. If I had to wait another second to get you under me, I might’ve died. What would your daddy say then?”

  I grow warm all over. “He’d kill me, for sure, but you’ve been as busy as me!”

  “True,” he relents. He tugs on my hair, then absently wraps the curl around his index finger. “You’ll be at the game Saturday, right?”

  “Of course.” I hesitate. “Will your father be there, too?”

  His fingers stiffen in my hair. “I hope not,” Ace mutters. “And if he is, he’d better not even think of asking me to give up our plays.”

  Unhappiness douses some of my post-coital bliss. “That was unfair of him to ask,” I agree.

  “No shit.”

  “Ace.”

  “Sorry. No sugar.” I can’t see his face because my cheek is squished against his right pec, but I can practically hear his smile. One of these days I’ll have successfully taught him to speak like a gentleman—at least outside of the bedroom. I find that I don’t mind the crude, whispered things he says to me when we’re naked.

  “Thing about my dad is, he doesn’t even think it’s wrong to ask that of me,” Ace adds, his tone bitter. “Like I said, he acts like I owe him. Like I should live my life for him. You’re lucky, Bryant. I’ve seen the way you and your dad interact. It’s obvious he only wants the best for you.”

  My heart warms, because he’s right. Daddy has never tried to browbeat me into taking a path he wants. He’s always supported my every decision. Momma, too, to a lesser extent, although I know she secretly wishes I was more interested in heading charity committees than going into sports PR.

  “Daddy knows better than to bark orders at a southern lady,” I joke. “We’re a stubborn lot.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Ace reaches down and tweaks my nipple. It immediately hardens beneath his fingers. It’s as if my body is hardwired to respond to his touch. “Do you want to spend the night after the game this weekend? We could sleep in until noon and go out for Sunday brunch.” He suddenly shudders. “Oh Jesus. I can’t believe those words even came out of my mouth. Sunday brunch. Christ.”

  “I can’t,” I answer. “And what did I tell you about taking the Lord’s name in vain? Now I’m going to have to stay extra at church to say a couple prayers for you.”

  “Church? You actually go to church?”

  “Every Sunday, rain or shine. My momma would disown me if I didn’t.” I prop up on my elbow. “So as much as I’d love to have brunch with you, Sundays aren’t good for me, sugar.”

  And this Sunday is especially not good. I drop back on the mattress, my muscles feeling a bit stiff, because I can’t believe it slipped my mind, even for a second. I wasn’t making excuses when I said I had church, but even if I didn’t have to attend the service this weekend, I still wouldn’t be able to spend the day with Ace.

  The anniversary of Ginny’s death is next week. My parents and I have done something to honor her every year since she died. Sunday will be full of folks patting us on the back, saying what a tragedy it was to have lost Ginny. Like we forgot her on a road trip or something. And for at least a few days following it, Momma will revert to the zombie state she fell into right after it happened. Daddy will be frustrated and sad. I’ll be struggling to support them both and offer them all the comfort they require.

  Actually, it would probably be best if I didn’t see Ace during that time. I won’t be able to focus on him, and that would be unfair.

  “I’ll be at the game, though,” I remind him, hoping it will alleviate the disappointment I see in his eyes. “And we can spend time together that night, if you want. We can skip the after-party and come right back here.” I pat the bed enticingly, and indeed that cheers him up.

  “Deal. We’ll have our own after-party.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  I smile in response, but my heart feels heavy. Thinking about what’s in store for me this weekend has weighed me down. I try to distract myself by leaning down to kiss Ace. He immediately drives the kiss deeper, and for the moment, my sorrows are forgotten.

  16

  Ace

  Renegades 6-0

  “You had a good game today.” Bryant traces a circle on my chest.

  “Yeah. It was decent.” I try to downplay my pride. The two weeks on the road were tough matches against division opponents, but we gutted out those two wins and then played a cake game today. Coach took me out in the fourth. I didn’t feel a twinge of worry when my backup, McQuarry, launched bomb after bomb. I'd made it through a third of the season with zero losses, only two interceptions and twelve touchdowns. If Coach was going to bench me, he'd have done it after game four. I figure I’m safe.

  Bryant doesn't think much of my false modesty. She tugs hard on a few chest hairs. “Just decent, huh?”

  I grab her hand and press it flat against my abdomen. “Can't brag too much. The room isn't big enough for my greatness.”

  Her boobs jiggle nicely against my arm as she laughs. “It’s too late, sugar. Your ego is already pushing me out of this bed.”

  “Is it?” I swing my body over her in one smooth movement, caging her between my arms. “Seems like you’re square in the middle.”

  “I guess there’s a little space left.” She holds up her fingers in casual measurement.

  She’s beautiful. All rosy, a tiny bit sweaty from our fucking—err, making love, as she prefers to call it. Whatever it is, it makes me feel good and makes her look like a goddess. I drop my head and lick the side of her cheek.

  “Gross, Ace.” She laughs, pushing me to the side. “That's gross.”

  I grin. “You don't seem to mind it when my face is between your legs.” I reach down and smooth my fingers through her trimmed bush to her still swollen pussy.

  Her legs scissor closed. “No and no. I'm too sore. You lie down beside me like a nice boy.”

  “You prefer it when I'm naughty.” But I do as she asks. I don't want to hurt her. Being mean to Bryant is like kicking a puppy. I may not be a relationship type of guy, but I can't deny that being with her has made it easy on me.

  I'm not getting into trouble. I don't have a ton of drama in my life. I thought sleeping around was easier, because no strings means no emotional entanglements. But no matter how many times you tell a girl you aren’t interested or how many times she declares to you that it’s sex only, feelings can get caught.

  For now, letting Bryant take care of everything is nice. I can see why the guys love her. Why everyone loves her. I'm halfway there myself. Hell, maybe we are making love. I brush a hand over the top of her head, enjoying the silky strands tickling my chest, surprised that I’m not freaking out over the depths of my feelings for this woman and how miserable I am when I’m not with her.

  “What time will you be done with church?”

  She stiffens. “I don’t know, but I already told you that Sunday isn’t going to work for me.”

  Tomorrow we have no practice, and since my friend circle consists of one Bryant Johnson, it’s either spend the day with her or sit at home with my dick in my hand.

  I gather up a few strands of blonde hair and brush the bunched ends against her nipple. The little bud puckers into a tight peak. I run my tongue along my lower lip. Church doesn’t sound that bad. Or maybe, more accurately, I'm thinking of the worshipping I could do after. “How about I come with you?”

&n
bsp; “With me?” she squeaks.

  “Why? Do you think I’m such a sinner the place is gonna collapse if I step foot inside?” I say a little tersely. “Whatever. Forget I mentioned it. I've got some shit to do.” Clean my room, watch some game film. Catch my old teammate on television. Wonder why my new teammates don't talk to me. That sort of thing.

  “More basket weaving?” she teases lightly, clearly relieved I’ve decided against the church thing.

  I try not to let it bother me. “Don't knock my crafting skills. Prof said it was the best one she'd seen all year.”

  “We're barely two months into the semester.”

  “That woman has taught this class since the prehistoric era, if I'm judging her age correctly. She knows her baskets.”

  Bryant laughs a bit too loud and has to clap a hand over her mouth. Regretfully, I sit up.

  “I should probably go.”

  “Yeah, you should.” Her lower lip juts out. My dick jumps in response.

  “Want to give me a little kiss goodbye?” I point to my crotch.

  “Go away, Ace. I need my beauty sleep.”

  I get up and throw my clothes on. Her eyes wander over my body like a light caress. It feels good here in her bedroom. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I can’t get her in trouble. I know it’s a risk coming here, but I like that she doesn’t turn me away. I pocket my phone and wallet and bend down next to the bed to kiss her neck. “Bye, Bryant.”

  She snuggles under the covers and watches as I flip open the latches of her second-story window. “If you break your arm, Daddy will kill me.”

  “Your house has a porch, a balcony, and a ladder-shaped lattice. I think it's meant to be climbed on.”

  “So you say.”

  I highly doubt I'm the first one to use this path into the upper floors of the AO house.

  Back home, I find the apartment empty. I pour myself a glass of water and check my phone. No unread messages. I flip open Snap and check my roommates' stories. There's a photo of them raising a glass to the camera. Fuckheads went out and didn't tell me. I wonder if Bryant knows where the team is. I'm sure she does.