Hard As Steel: A College Sports Romance (The Treehouse Boys Book 1)

by McKinley May

  She looks apologetically at Rayne and me. “We’re sorry we have to leave you alone on your first night, but we bought four tickets to the new planetarium opening downtown before we knew you two would be visiting. Unfortunately, they sold out before we could purchase any more.”

  She really doesn't have to apologize. As much as I already like hanging out with her family, I don't think anything can beat alone time with Rayne. Shit, she could've said they had tickets to the damn Superbowl and I still wouldn't be upset.

  Jack snaps his fingers. “You guys should join us tomorrow night at the middle school art show. Stone’s got a piece on display that he’s been talking up all week, and I’m sure he’d like you two to see it.”

  Stone tugs on my sleeve, his eyes begging. “You gotta come, Mr. Famous. I need to introduce you to my friends! Please!”

  I nod. “Wouldn’t miss it, man.”

  “Yes!” He throws a fist in the air triumphantly.

  Emerald waves him away. “Go get ready!”

  Both boys take off, sprinting from the room.

  I start gathering the empty, mismatched plates. “I’ll do the dishes so you guys can get ready to go. It’s the least I can do for your hospitality.”

  Jack shoots an approving grin towards Rayne. “Good man, Vaughn. Thanks a lot.”

  I collect all the plates and begin loading them into the dishwasher while Rayne arranges the beanbags back into the preferred locations.

  We finish cleaning up right as they’re about to head out the door.

  “When will you be back, Mom?”

  “Should be no later than ten, sweetie. You can show Vaughn where he’ll be sleeping and make sure he’s settled in. I have a feeling he’s never stayed in a yurt before.” She smiles and waves goodbye as they walk out the door into the breezy, cool air.

  A yurt?

  What the fuck is a yurt?

  29

  The moment my family is out the door, Vaughn turns to me, dark brows furrowed together.

  “I’m sorry, a what? Yurt?”

  He looks so freaking cute all confused.

  “Hey,” I say with a mild shrug, “I gave you fair warning that you’d be entering a whole new world. I have a feeling you’ll like this, though.”

  We grab our bags from the back of his car. After I toss mine in my room, I lead him out the sliding glass back door. With the sun only minutes away from setting, the sky is painted with blended streaks of oranges, pinks, and purples, creating a vivid backdrop that frames the large yard perfectly.

  I watch as his head darts in all directions, observing the surroundings. And there is a whole lot to observe. The place is a mystical, magical field of treasures. A traditional Japanese koi pond, a meditation stool beneath a weeping willow tree, and a vibrant vegetable garden are just a few of the many attractions in the backyard.

  Although there’s a surprise around every corner, the resounding zen vibe makes it my favorite part of our home. Easily.

  I can tell Vaughn is impressed when he lets out a long whistle. “This is sweet.” He stretches his neck, looking to the far end of the yard. “And freaking huge.”

  I follow his gaze. “I think we’re on about an acre and a half. It backs up to this cute little woods area with a brook running through.”

  He grins. “Sounds like some fairytale shit.”

  A gentle breeze blows, and a whimsical tune plays in response. He follows the sound to a cluster of trees and laughs when he spots the source. “Wind chimes, I fucking called it.”

  Grabbing his hand, I drag him farther back, careful not to trip on a few baseballs and some faded leather mitts—my dad and brothers’ additions to the yard.

  I nod to a giant circular structure that resembles a cross between a circus tent and a teepee.

  “That is a yurt.”

  I lead him up the steps and open the door, revealing the inside to him. His eyes are wide and awestruck as he takes it all in. There’s a mini kitchenette on one side, a curved bookshelf and plush lounge chair on the other, and a large, round bed directly in the center piled high with embroidered pillows and hand-woven Mexican blankets. Everything is enclosed by the criss-cross wooden frame that makes up the wall, providing the yurt with strong, structural support.

  “This is wild.” Vaughn shakes his head as he sets his bag on the mahogany floor. “I feel like I’ve traveled across the globe and zipped through a few decades in the two hours I’ve been here. Seriously, this is insanity.” He shrugs his hands into his pockets and glances at the ceiling. “But I’m still confused. What is it?”

  “I mean, technically it really is a giant circular tent. But because we use it as a guest house, we’ve got the whole shebang in here: electricity, plumbing, air conditioning, you name it. We’ve even got a TV.” I point to the black screen across from us. “It’s a super fancy tent. You know those coffee snobs that have a zillion requirements for their lattes? This is the kind of tent they’d enjoy if they went camping.”

  “So like glamping?”

  “Glamping?” I snicker.

  He gapes at me. “Come on, babe. You don’t know what glamping is?”

  “I know what it is.” I put my hands on my hips defiantly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to know what it is.”

  “What?” A smirk tugs at his lips. “I don’t strike you as the glamping type?”

  I look him up and down—all six foot two, two hundred pounds of rigid, All-American male—and try to picture him as a glamorous camper, renting out a pimped-out airstream and sleeping on one thousand thread-count sheets in the middle of the woods.

  Yeah, no.

  All I’m envisioning is him decked out head-to-toe in REI gear and sporting a few day’s worth of scruff, looking like a virile, sexy backpacker.

  Oh, damn. I like that look on him. I like it a lot.

  I snap out of my mountain-man fantasies to respond. “Not at all. Definitely getting a wilderness-loving, down-and-dirty type of vibe from you.”

  “Weird, I get a down-and-dirty vibe outta you, too.”

  I fight an eyeroll and begin guiding him around the room, giving him the full tour of the Glamping Yurt as the sky outside transforms from dusk to darkness.

  After we’ve explored every inch of the place, we come to a stop in front of an old CD player and I hit play. I was half-expecting it to be broken or empty, so I’m pleasantly surprised when the upbeat strums of a flamenco guitar fill the room.

  Vaughn’s hands slip into mine. He gently tugs me towards him, a sweet smile on his face.

  “Dance with me.”

  He lifts his arm and I spin underneath, giggling as I let the music guide our movements.

  I’m in a carefree daze as we move together, our airy laughter mixing with the rhythmic beat swirling around us. Our arms straighten as I pull away from him, then bend when I twirl and spiral clumsily into his body. I press my palms to his chest to steady myself and laugh.

  “I don’t think we’re gonna be winning any dancing competitions anytime soon.”

  He crinkles his nose. “What are you talking about? We’re definitely Dancing with the Stars ready, babe.”

  “Yeah,” I huff. “I’ll get eliminated Week One, and you’ll be right behind me as Week Two’s victim.”

  He grins and shakes his head before lifting me up in one graceful movement. He swings me into his arms rock-a-bye-baby style like I’m as weightless as a feather.

  “What are you doing?” I laugh and kick in an unsuccessful attempt to escape his grasp. Holding me captive, he walks over to the bed. He gently tosses me onto the mattress below before jumping on it with me, a few pillows falling to the floor with cushiony thuds.

  We lay side-by-side on our backs as the CD plays the next song: a subdued piano piece. The dome skylight above reveals the dark sky, and I let out a hazy sigh.

  “It’s so peaceful out here.”

  “It really is.”

  The soft touch of Vaughn’s fingers lacing with mine causes my heart
to flip.

  Both of us turn to the side, now facing one another. Within an instant, I’m struct with a feeling so absolute it takes me by total surprise. It’s a sense of calm and tranquility so soothing it’s as if everything in the world is right, everything is whole and complete and utterly perfect.

  It fills me to the brim.

  I place a hand on his chest, his heartbeat buzzing underneath my fingertips.

  Smiling, I shake my head. “This is crazy.”

  “What is?” he questions softly.

  “Us. You and me. That we’re here right now, together.” A laugh of disbelief escapes my lips. “A few months ago, I was trying to convince our editor that the article should be about somebody else...anybody but you.”

  “Good thing you’re not very convincing.”

  He winks before his face softens. He places a hand over mine, squeezing gently. “I can’t even explain how much you mean to me. From the moment you walked into that bar wearing those fucking neon orange shoes, you flipped my life upside down. You are everything to me, baby.”

  “And you're everything to me, Vaughn,” I manage to choke out over the emotion lodged in my throat.

  A tender smile spreads across his face, vulnerability pouring from his words. “You're more than just my girlfriend, Rayne. You're my best friend.”

  A sudden shift in the night clouds reveals a full moon directly above us. The silver light pours down on us in waves, smothering the room in a beautiful white cast. We turn our heads to bask in the beauty of it, staring together as time passes.

  When I finally look back down, I’m greeted by the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen. Half of Vaughn’s face is glistening in the moonlight, the shadows and highlights emphasizing his strong features.

  My eyes sweep down his body, soaking in his perfect physique, appreciating this man I get to call mine.

  “Rayne.” His voice is sweet and thick, like honey pouring out of a pot. I fix my eyes to those bright pools of electric blue, his gaze searing every inch of my flesh. He reaches out, slowly tracing his thumb across my cheekbone. “I love you.”

  The balloon of emotion inside me immediately bursts open. It floods my entire body with warmth and desire and passion, all combined to produce one overwhelming feeling of unmitigated happiness.

  I swallow, my voice shaky and barely above a whisper as I respond.

  “I love you, too.”

  His lips find mine in a gentle kiss, and I breathe him in.

  I breathe him in like it's the first time our mouths have become one, like it's the last time I'll get to kiss him.

  The sweet-and-spicy cinnamon taste of his lips.

  The musky scent of his masculine aftershave.

  The bristle of scruff against my cheek.

  I soak in every meticulous detail, burning this into my long-term memory though I know it's not necessary. It'd be impossible for me to forget the way he makes me feel. Everything about him entices me, consumes me.

  Vaughn tugs me closer, taut to his chest. I open my mouth for him, his tongue immediately plunging inside as our kiss transforms from delicate to desperate in an instant. The air between us grows thick with tension, and I swear I can feel it crackling between us.

  As our mouths explore one another's hungrily, his strong hands begin to make their way down my body, memorizing the curves of my figure, driving me freaking wild.

  Within moments, I'm soaking wet, so turned on that only one word is playing on repeat in my head—more.

  I need more.

  “Vaughn,” I moan into his mouth, and he knows exactly what I want without another word.

  Those magic hands reach behind me, peeling my shirt up and over my head. I sit up and unclip my bra, letting my shoulders roll forward as the garment falls to the bed. I lay back, exposed and absolutely loving Vaughn's heated gaze on my bare chest, my nipples tightening in the cool air.

  I cup my hands over my breasts and squeeze, eliciting a guttural groan from his throat.

  “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

  His eyes blaze as he tugs his shirt off and tosses it behind him, broad shoulders and defined muscles sending another surge of warmth through my body.

  He braces himself over the top of me and leans forward. His lips find the sensitive skin of my neck, his bare chest just barely grazing my hard nipples, and—shit—my back arches and I barely contain a strained cry, the sensation so good it's almost too much to bear.

  He moves south, planting soft, teasing kisses down my collarbone, over the swell of my breast, each one a tiny spark of electricity on my flesh.

  The moment he flicks one of the tight buds with his tongue, my hips automatically jut off the bed, body crying out for his touch.

  I feel him smile against me, knowing that I’m putty under his touch, under his complete control. And damn if I'm not smiling, too. For someone who's such a control freak, it shocks me how much I want him to take the lead, love him in the driver's seat when it comes to us.

  His hand comes into play, thumb working the other nipple with gentle tugs and plucks that have me squirming underneath him in a state of pure desire.

  And when his other hand dips underneath my waistband, a loud, strained moan tumbles from my lips, desperation at the tip of it. Fingers knead the tip of my lacy underwear before dipping below the surface, teasing just above where I'm dying for his touch.

  “I want you,” he mumbles against the side of my breast, breaths labored and desperate. “I want to feel you come apart around me. Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

  His thumb brushes against my clit with his words. A flurry of pleasure races down my spine, the imminent orgasm building quickly. I bite down on my lip and nod frantically.

  In a matter of seconds, our pants are down, the head of his thick erection aligned at my entrance.

  The anticipation is killing me, and it doesn't help when he begins inching inside, painfully slow as if I've got a fragile sticker on my forehead.

  “I'm not going to break,” I insist.

  The moment the words leave my lips, he thrusts himself inside, filling up every inch of me. I gasp in delight, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

  “Goddammit, Rayne. You're so fucking tight.”

  Blue eyes blink open, cloudy with arousal as he begins pumping in and out. I lift my hips, matching his rhythm as we move together, bodies merged as one like we've been doing this forever.

  I can feel the pressure within increasing, the tangles of bliss coiling inside me, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

  Vaughn's on the same wavelength, features tight with pained-pleasure as his thrusts grow more frantic, more frenzied.

  And the moment he reaches down, index finger pressing against my clit, the orgasm erupts inside me. My walls clench around him, and almost instantaneously he's over the edge with me. He stills, brows lowered as I feel him harden inside me as we come together, his masculine groans harmonizing with my soft cries.

  It's fucking perfect.

  We lay there afterwards, nestled together in each other’s arms. Vaughn strokes my hair and I feel the rise and fall of his chest, his deep inhales and exhales matching mine exactly. I stare up through the skylight, the full moon still beaming down on the two of us, and wonder what the hell I did in my life to deserve something as special as this.

  30

  I’m surrounded by pre-teens hyped up on soda and cookies and parents beaming with pride in the Hillcrest Middle School gym Friday night, and I’m staring at the fucking weirdest piece of “art” I’ve ever seen in my life. Seriously, I don’t know if this can technically be classified as art because it looks more like a science experiment gone terribly wrong.

  The atrocity is a giant blob composed of slick green and brown slime, spiky colored toothpicks, and soggy cotton balls. It’s got at least ten googly eyes stuck sporadically on its surface, and an oversized metal fork is poking out of one side. I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at, but it’s really creeping me out.r />
  The plaque underneath reads Stone Everett: 6th Grade. The Everetts all stand beside me, examining the piece with the same horrified expression that’s plastered on my face.

  Stone walks up to the thing, grinning proudly as he pokes it with a pencil. The nightmare-inducing blob wiggles back and forth, but somehow manages to hold its shape.

  “Pretty sweet, right? You guys like it?”

  Jack scratches the back of his neck, and Cedar covers his eyes as he shakes his head in fear. I manage a tight smile and a sharp nod.

  Luckily, the women of the family seem to have a better grasp on not crushing a child’s creative expression. Rayne and Emerald immediately jump in to encourage him, complimenting his unique creation with poker faces a helluva lot more convincing than mine.

  “What exactly is it, son?” Jack finally asks what we’re all thinking as he takes a sip of his drink.

  Stone scrunches his brows together as he gives his dad a look of disbelief.

  “Can’t you tell? It’s you!”

  Jack chokes on the water he’s drinking, and Stone slaps his knee as he cracks up laughing.