Looking To Score: #UofJ Book 1- An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy Sports Romance (U of J)

by Alley Ciz

  Sick of the distance, I move to join her on the couch, pulling her feet out from under her and into my lap. Pushing up the bottom of her sweats, I can’t stop the small chuckle that escapes at the sight of the blue socks on her feet. “Always matching, babe.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  Silence falls heavy, thick, and awkward.

  Time for answers. It’s now or never.

  “Tell me.”

  Air whistles through her teeth as she sucks in a breath, and I try my damnedest not to stare at how the action makes her tits strain against the thin material of her top. Now is not the time to get boned up. I refuse to let my dick distract me from the truth again.

  #Chapter53

  “Tell me.”

  Two words, spoken softly without any hint of command, and still they manage to strike fear deep in my heart.

  Why can’t I find the words to start? Hell, it should be easy; he already knows the first part.

  Except…

  As I focus on where the black edge of his backward hat bisects his forehead instead of those eyes I swear can penetrate me down to my soul, I can’t help but want to run away.

  “Umm…so Eric Dennings on the Baltimore Crabs is my brother.”

  “So we’ve established.” He squeezes one of my feet. “What I’m not clear on is why you didn’t tell me, and—more importantly—why it still seems like you’re afraid of talking about it.”

  The melodic sound of a glass harp echoes in the room as I circle the rim of my wine glass. Round and round my thumb continues to trace the delicate crystal.

  “Would you believe me if I said it was complicated?”

  Complicated? All the parts of my story are more complex than the Admirals’ pyramid sequence.

  Rough calluses skim across my leg when he snakes a hand up the inside of my sweats. “I can imagine, but Kay”—he starts to massage my calf—“I need you to try to break it down for me. Help me understand.”

  I don’t deserve his kindness. He’s given me so much while getting so little in return. He’s entitled to the truth, or at least as much as I can stomach giving him.

  “When I was a sophomore, I started dating one of the seniors on our football team.” I lift my gaze from my wine and swallow down the giant cheer bow stuck in my throat. “He was a tight end.”

  “Ah…” The slightest bit of kind humor I most certainly do not deserve creeps into his light eyes. “So you have a type.”

  My lips twitch at the joke, but I force them down.

  “It was one of the reasons I tried to keep my distance from you.” Among a million others.

  “I take it you didn’t have a good breakup?”

  “You could say that,” I deadpan.

  “You know I’m not mad you didn’t tell me about your brother, right?”

  The crushing weight constricting my chest lifts fractionally.

  “I really was planning on telling you tonight.” I wave a hand around the room. “It’s not like I could keep it a secret with pictures of him hanging all over the place.”

  “What happened with your ex?”

  So, so much.

  “Essentially he used my connection to E—and subsequently Coach Daniels—to garner attention from Penn State, which he didn’t already have.” I loath to admit he is a good football player, even if he needed help getting on such a top program’s radar.

  Mason’s eyes narrow, but I’m not sure what I said that is causing his nostrils to flare. I haven’t even gotten to the bad stuff.

  “He would be a senior now, right?”

  Oh.

  I nod.

  “Who?” Direct, to the point.

  This time I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him. The rivalry between the Penn State Nittany Lions and the U of J Hawks is one of the most revered in college football. If it wasn’t a crucial detail to the tale, I wouldn’t have even told him at all.

  The tension is always high during their game. The last thing Mason needs is anything adding to the animosity between the teams and him going off half-cocked because of his feelings for me. The quickest way for a player to lose their place as a draft pick is to be seen as a PR nightmare.

  “Kay.” The patterns being traced on my skin still. “Who?”

  “There’s more to the story.”

  Why am I offering this up?

  “We’ll circle back. Tell me who your ex is, Kayla.”

  Full-naming me.

  Jaw clenched.

  Hardened eyes.

  He must mean business.

  Fine.

  With my voice barely above a whisper, I utter the one name I refused to speak for years. “Liam Parker.”

  #Chapter54

  There is no love lost between the Hawks and the Nittany Lions, but hearing that Kay’s ex plays for them after using her to help get a spot on the team has me wishing away the days until our two teams play. I need to remember to ask Kev to lay Liam Parker’s ass out when we do. Never have I wished to play defense like I do in this moment.

  She said there was more to the story, but I shuffle around what I know already to try to start to make sense of it.

  Hmm…

  It clicks into place. She was afraid to be used again. The stakes are higher, too. Eric can bring attention from the league now.

  Grabbing Kay around the knees, I settle her on my lap.

  “Baby.” I cup the side of her face, making sure I’m her sole focus. “As cool as it is that your brother is who he is, I’m with you because of who you are. I’m going to be a first-round draft pick because I’m the best tight end entering the draft.” Fuck you, Liam Parker. “Not because of some connection to my girlfriend.”

  “Always so cocky.”

  “No, confident.” I lean in and steal a kiss from her plump lips, tasting the sweetness from the wine on her tongue. I love how her body melts against mine, always surrendering to the pleasure we generate. Forcing myself to end the kiss, I ask her to tell me the rest.

  She works to swallow, and my gut tightens when I see the sheen of unshed tears coating her eyes.

  Fuck this is going to be bad.

  “Right around bowl time was when my dad died.” One of her tears breaks free, and I use the pad of my thumb to wipe it away. It physically pains me to see her so sad. “His death—” She chokes on a sob. “His death set off a chain of events that altered my entire life.” Her hands curl into the collar of my polo and watery eyes meet mine. “It’s part of why I avoid social media.”

  A hot poker of guilt hits me at the memory of our argument about her not wanting me to post a selfie of us. My reasonings for wanting to claim her seem so shallow knowing hers stem from the wake of her dad’s death.

  “Can I…” She stops to take another deep inhalation, following it up with a long exhalation. “Can I just tell you the rest bullet-style?”

  “Of course.” Whatever she needs. I tuck a wayward curl behind her ear.

  “E declared for the draft. Liam signed his National Letter of Intent for Penn State. It came out that Liam had been cheating on me the whole time.”

  “The fucker.”

  My sudden outburst gets me the briefest hint of a smile. I’ll take it.

  “That he is. To add insult to injury, he chose to do it with one of our school’s cheerleaders. That group already didn’t like anyone who cheered for NJA, so they took great pleasure in making sure I knew every detail of Liam’s betrayal.”

  The final pieces of the puzzle click into place.

  “Social media?” I ask.

  “Yup. In school, I had people like JT and a few others who protected me, but they couldn’t do anything about the straight-up cyberbullying that flooded my accounts.” She looks away again, and this time I let her.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry.” I hug her to me.

  Her reluctance to let me love up on her around campus, her aversion to our hashtags—it all makes sense now.

  “It’s not your fault.” Her embrace is more of a cling
, her hot breath hitting my neck as she buries her face against it.

  “I still feel like an ass.”

  She giggles, the happier side of her breaking through. “Why?”

  “Because I got all pissed off you wouldn’t let me post us.”

  Her grip on me tightens, but she doesn’t lift her head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with that, Mase.”

  “It’s fine, baby.”

  She sits up abruptly and moves to straddle my lap. Luckily she settles herself away from the danger zone, with her ass on top of my knees, blessedly leaving a few much needed—at least if I want to be able to think—inches between her heat and myself.

  Her head drops down, chin to chest, fingers kneading my shoulders while she takes deep, almost calming breaths. It seems like she’s working up the courage to tell me something, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what could be weighing on her mind. We already cleared up the whole issue of her brother and her past.

  The best course of action is to wait her out. After two solid minutes of this, she finally breaks the silence.

  “God, Mase. I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I planned to tell you. Then Coach Knight comes out and blows up my spot before I ever get the chance, and all I could think was this is the last thing you needed before your game. I sat up in the stands and stressed every play, every down.”

  She’s talking so fast all her words are blending together. She amazes me; she really does. I know she was worried how I would react to the news and what it could mean for our relationship, but that this girl could be concerned about a football game amid all of it blows my mind.

  Every day she does something else that makes me fall deeper and deeper in love with her. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to finally tell her how I feel, wanting it to be perfect, but listening to her take on guilt she doesn’t need to carry snaps something in me.

  “I squeezed G’s hand, praying hearing about E from someone who wasn’t me wouldn’t mess with your concentration and cause you to make a mistake that could either cost you guys the game, or worse, get you hurt. And it would have been al—”

  “I love you,” I blurt out, cutting off her tirade.

  She sputters mid-sentence, and it takes time for her to recover. “You do?”

  Her reaction is so damn cute I can’t handle it. I push myself up, my back straight, no longer resting against the couch. I take her face between both my large hands, fingers threading through her curls, and pull her forward to rest my forehead against hers.

  “Hell yeah I do,” I say confidently, my eyes locking with hers.

  Her hands shift on my neck, bumping against the bill of my backward hat. “Lord help me, I love you too, Mase.”

  My heart bursts in my chest, and the same euphoria I’m used to experiencing when we win a game consumes me. There’s absolutely zero possibility of holding back now. I tilt her head up and claim her.

  Lips, tongues, and teeth clash as we attack each other with our mouths. This is hands down the hottest kiss we’ve ever shared, and that’s saying a lot. I skim a palm down the length of her spine and pull her against me, a pained groan escaping when her heat surrounds my hardness. Like a dam breaking, the action kicks things into a whole other gear.

  Her hands snake under my polo, dragging it up my body before tossing it aside. My hat gets knocked off and her fingers tug at my hair. Her tank—one of those kinds with the built-in bra thing—quickly joins the pile we are creating on the floor, and her glorious tits are exposed for the taking. My mouth leaves hers to feast on the hardened pink nipples begging for my attention.

  My tongue traces her areola then my teeth nip at the end of her nipple.

  “Oh my god,” she says breathlessly, wiggling more in my lap.

  “Just Mase is fine.”

  “Ass.” Her chuckle quickly transforms into a moan when I lift my hips, pressing our centers closer together again.

  Never one to be passive, Kay gives as good as she gets. Her teeth scrape my collarbone, and oh god the tingles. I didn’t think I could get any harder, but it sure as shit happens as her kisses continue to travel all over.

  Her hands explore and squeeze my shoulders, my pecs, then over each pack of my abdominals, and when her fingers dip under the waist of my jeans and start to work on my belt and zipper, I’m done—stick a fork in me.

  As if reading my mind, she jumps off my lap, hooks her thumbs in her sweats, and pushes them off her hips to the floor. Once she’s completely bared to me, she wastes no time removing mine. I give her a little help by lifting my hips off the couch, my dick standing proudly at attention.

  She’s back on my lap, grinding against me before I have a chance to do anything else. She’s wet, so wet. The way her bare lips open around my hardness is pure heaven. The heat, the wetness—perfection.

  Up and down she bounces in the hottest lap dance in history, her lips coating my dick, and when her hips tilt in a particular way, my tip breaches her opening and I grind my molars to keep myself from sliding the rest of the way home.

  “Kayla,” I growl.

  Instead of heeding my warning, she pushes down harder, causing me to slide in another few inches.

  “Kay…baby…I need you to…get off my lap before I can’t stop.”

  That cute V forms between her brows at my words. “Why the hell would you stop?” She pushes down another few inches.

  “I need to get a condom.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m on the pill.”

  I’m blown away. For her to offer herself in this way is completely unexpected.

  “I’ve never—”

  “Me either,” she says, reading my mind.

  “I’m clean. I swear. I had a physical at the beginning of the season and haven’t been with anyone since.”

  This seems to shock her. She sits up, causing me to slip out of her slightly.

  “Seriously?” I nod, and that V grows larger. “How is that even possible? I’ve seen how the jersey chasers hang off you.”

  “Very true, but I’ve found they’ve completely lost their appeal to me.”

  “Why?”

  “You really want to have this discussion now when you’re sitting in my lap naked?”

  “You’re right. Later.” She rises back up, so wet I’m able to push right in until I’m buried to the hilt in one long thrust.

  I have to run through the Hawks’ playbook to keep from shooting my load the second I’m inside. I’ve never been in a woman without the barrier of latex before. I’m religious about wrapping it up, have never even played just the tip before. This feeling is beyond words, the immense sensation of heat, and my brain shuts off as my primal instinct takes over.

  Up.

  Down.

  Push.

  Pull.

  We move together. I grip her hips, afraid I’ll leave bruises from the way I’m squeezing her.

  Back and forth we continue to rock. No words are exchanged, only breaths and moans. Her eyes are raging storm clouds consuming me in their wake.

  Just as I think I can’t take any more, I feel her walls flutter around me and she comes all over my dick, soaking my balls. It’s exquisite and I never want to have to wrap it up again. Her head falls forward, burying itself in the space where my neck meets my shoulder as she moans through her release.

  Her orgasm grants me the permission to follow her over the edge, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to recover. Pretty sure she’s ruined me for life.

  “I love you.” I feel more than hear her murmur the words against my neck.

  “I love you too.” I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, never wanting to let go.

  #Chapter55

  Sunlight filters into my bedroom and I curse myself for not pulling the shades all the way, burying my face deeper into Mase’s side, trying to block it out.

  “That tickles, babe.” His sexy, rough-from-sleep voice rings out.

  “Sorry.” My own is muffled by hi
s side, head bobbing with his laughter.

  “It’s okay, I know you hate mornings.”

  He does. He knows so much more about me than I ever expected him to, and it scares the shit out of me. Hell, there’s so much that terrifies me about being in a relationship with Mason Nova, but the way he makes my heart feel whole makes it possible—kinda—to deal with.

  I love him.

  And holy basket toss Batman, he loves me back. Even after learning about the majority of what happened, he still told me he loves me.

  I can’t believe this is real life.

  “Can we please go back to sleep?”

  Mornings suck giant pom-poms, but waking up wrapped in Mase’s strong arms goes a long way toward making them better. The fact that his delicious body is naked—even better.

  His fingers dance along my spine, and I start to drift back to sleep. Naked Mason might be my favorite Mason.

  The loud rumble of his stomach interrupts the lineup of all my favorite Masons dancing in my head, the sound so loud it practically echoes off the walls of my bedroom.

  “I guess I should feed you, huh?”

  I make no attempt to move—too comfy.

  “You did say you love me.” He places a kiss on top of my head.

  Yes I did.

  “I’m also a growing boy.”

  He’s no boy. He’s 100% pure, delicious, sex-in-a-backward-hat man.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” His finger hooks under my chin, lifting my face to his.

  “How do you do that?”

  “I know you, babe.” He smooths his thumb along my bottom lip. “Plus it’s one of the quirks I love about you.”

  Swoon.

  “Well, when you put it like that, how am I supposed to say no to you?”

  “That’s the point—you’re not.”

  I push up to kiss him, getting lost in the soft press of his mouth and the scratch of his stubble.

  “I have some bad news for you, though.”

  “What’s that, babe?” A hand squeezes my ass.

  “I don’t really have any food here.”