TACKLE (Boston Terriers Book 4)

by Jacob Chance

  “No,” she replies vehemently. “God, no.” This time she controls her tone.

  “Are you sure? You almost seem jealous.”

  She scowls. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one getting all worked up.” My fingertips touch her cheekbone and trail down her blushing skin like falling tears. “You look a little flushed.”

  “It’s hot in here.” She’s right. It is. These old frat houses don’t have central air and with all the people crowded into this space, opening the windows doesn’t suffice.

  Starting at her pink lips, my eyes skate down to her taut nipples poking through the light blue tank top. Standing this close together isn’t helping me cool off any. She’s wearing cutoff jean shorts - my fucking weakness. And her long, muscular legs look strong enough to grip my head and hold my face tight to her pussy. Fuck, yes.

  And those flip flops with her pink toenails showing. I groan. Help me, Jesus. This girl is either made for me or she’ll be my demise.

  “Come on. Let me grab you a drink.” I catch her hand again and lead her into the kitchen. There are small clusters of people congregating together near the table where a few bowls of chips and salsa have been set out. Every pair of eyes snaps in our direction and seem to lock onto our joined hands. Grace notices and does her best to pull free, but I refuse to relinquish my hold.

  “Let go,” she murmurs close lipped.

  “I will, but not until I need to.” Steering us over to the fridge, I open the door so she can peer inside. “See anything that interests you?” She leans into my arm to get a better look and my body hums with awareness.

  “Hmm, I’ll take a Heineken.”

  “You drink beer?” I can’t keep the surprise from my tone as I glance at her.

  “I do. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No, not at all. It’s just most girls I know don’t like beer.”

  She snorts. “I’m sure most girls you know are different than me in a lot of ways.” Grabbing two beers with one hand, I release my hold on her and nudge the fridge door closed with the outside of my foot. Picking up the bottle opener from the counter, I pop off the caps and toss them in the trash before handing a Heineken to Grace.

  “Thank you.” She takes the ice cold bottle from me, slipping the rim between her rosy lips. Her head tips back exposing her neck, lashes lowering as the liquid passes into her mouth. I’m transfixed by the graceful column of ivory skin and the berry bow of her lips wrapped around the green glass.

  My beer remains forgotten in my hand. Enraptured, I watch Grace swallow each mouthful. I’m engrossed with her. Everything she does is mesmerizing. She’s effortlessly sexy. I could study her for hours on end and never run out of new things to notice. Like the recently discovered golden-brown freckles on the underside of her jaw. Or the sun lightened golden streaks in the front of her hair. I don’t remember them being there when we were this close in the Hamptons.

  I can’t be the only guy who notices her beauty. How has she remained unattached? Fuck. Maybe she has a boyfriend and I don’t even know.

  Lowering the bottle, she sighs pleasurably, and a small smile teases her beer coated lips. I’m tempted to pull her to me and suck every trace of the alcohol from them until I’m drunk on the taste of her.

  Her thick lashes flutter as they raise, revealing all my favorite shades of blue. The tip of her tongue glides out collecting the remaining moisture from the plump surface before disappearing back inside.

  Heat engulfs every inch of me and blood rushes to my groin as I imagine her mouth wrapped around something much more satisfying than a green bottle.

  “God, that tastes good.” She smiles

  My eyes slam shut and a groan slips free. Her words conjure images of her on her knees, swallowing every bit of my come. Fuck. Tipping the beer back, I gulp down half the liquid before I look her way once more. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No. Why are you asking me that?”

  “Because I want to know if you’re fair game.”

  “I’m a person, not a wild animal you’re hunting.”

  “I don’t know. It feels like I’m the hunter and you’re my prey.”

  “In your dreams.” She playfully shoves my chest. “Does role playing get you off?”

  Damn. I can’t believe she asked me that. “I guess it depends on who wants to play. If you’re volunteering I’d be all for it.”

  “No, thanks,” she scoffs. “I’m not into being one of many.”

  “If I had you, I wouldn’t want any others.”

  “Sure. That’s what they all say.”

  “You never told me what school you transferred here from.”

  “You never asked.”

  “Touche.”

  “I went to Babson College.”

  “That’s a great school.”

  “Yep, unfortunately they don’t have a women’s football team.”

  “Where are you originally from?”

  “I grew up in Somerville. What about you?”

  “I’m from New York City.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I didn’t think anyone was actually from there. I just thought they ended up there for work.”

  “Well, I am. Born and raised.”

  “Wow. I would’ve imagined you growing up in a Greenwich mansion or someplace with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

  “I’m not denying the silver spoon part, but we’ve never had a house anywhere but the Hamptons. My parents own a penthouse in the city with great views of Central Park. I’ll bring you there some time.” She frowns. “What? Do you have something against New York City?”

  “No, but I doubt we’ll ever go together.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re not friends.”

  “We’re not? I thought we were.”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  “Well, you did spend a weekend at my family’s beach house and I think you had a good time.”

  “I did, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

  “Will you be my friend?”

  “What? No.”

  “You won’t?”

  “No… I… I just mean... don’t make this something awkward. We’re acquaintances and that’s fine. We don’t need to be more.”

  “Fuck no. That’s not good enough.”

  “You can’t force friendships, Trevor.” That’s what she thinks.

  “I know, Grace. But I can wear you down. I can charm the friendship right out of you. You won’t be able to resist being my friend when I get through with you.” A brief flicker of confusion passes over her face and I know that she’s not as immune to me as she pretends to be. I’m going to show her I’m not the conceited, out of touch asshole she has me pegged for. She has no idea who I am, and if she gives me a chance to show her, I think she might be pleasantly surprised.

  She sucks down the remainder of her beer and grabs another one from the fridge. My eyes follow every move she makes, drinking in the sight of her. I probably won’t see her again until class next week. Unless I can get her to come to our game tomorrow.

  “You want another one?” She holds the fridge door open between us, blocking my view of her.

  “Yes, please, but this is it. I’ve got a game tomorrow. Can’t afford to be hungover.”

  “Do you make a habit of that?”

  “Getting hungover?” She nods. “Not if I can help it.”

  “It must be horrible having people hold you down and pour drinks down your throat,” she quips.

  “Oh you have no idea.”

  “I think I see a pattern with you.” She points, bouncing her index finger at me.

  “Lay it on me.” I can’t wait to hear this.

  “You like to act like you’re just a passenger in your own life and everyone else makes the decisions for you.”

  “And you’re basing this on?”

  “My
own observations.”

  “I don’t think we’ve spent enough time together for you to form an accurate assessment of me or my behavior. If you want to put more time into seeing if your theories are right, let me know. I’ll free up as much time in my schedule as you need.” I swallow down the final sip and set the empty bottle on the counter with a clank, ending any more of that discussion. “Are you coming to the game tomorrow night?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Will you come?”

  She tips her head to the side, studying me. “Why do you care if I’m there?”

  “I like the idea of you seeing what I can do on the field.”

  “I’ll see if I can swing it.” Grace hands me a new bottle and I remove the cap before handing it back. Taking the second one she’s holding out, I pop the top and take a deep pull while she nudges the door closed with her elbow. She edges over until her hip leans against the cabinets facing me. Warily watching me over the bottle, she takes a sip. She’s on guard. Is she worried about what I might do next? I smile to myself. It’s not like I’m going to pounce on her and kiss her until she can’t remember her own name. It might be fun to show her how much of an asshole I could be. As much as I might like to, it’s not my style. At least it’s never had to be.

  Girls like to kiss me.

  They want to kiss me.

  I’m not being arrogant, it’s just the way it’s always been. I’m sure my last name helps make me more attractive. Grace might not be the first girl I’m getting a hands off signal from, but she’s the only one I’ve ever been so invested in proving myself to. It’s infuriating because I want to kiss her more than any other girl. I want my hands exploring every inch of her alluring shape.

  “Why are you smiling?” Her question yanks me free of my pondering.

  “I’m standing here with a beautiful girl, drinking my favorite beer. What’s not to be happy about?” Her expression is dubious. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I’m not sure I believe about ninety percent of what you say.”

  I clutch my chest. “Damn. You wound me with those harsh words. I’m a straight forward guy. In fact, my honesty has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion.” Raking her teeth over her lip, she studies me, still uncertain. “The more time we spend together, the sooner you’ll realize what you see is what you get.”

  She raises a perfectly arched brow. “Who said anything about spending more time together?”

  “I did. Just now.”

  “Personally, I think that’s a horrible idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Between school, football, and work I barely have enough time to see the people I actually like.”

  “Well you can’t grow to like me if we never see each other.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Why should I want to grow to like you or anyone else? I don’t want to grow to like anything, not even food. I’m pretty straightforward and decisive. I either like something, or I don’t, and I rarely change my mind.” This isn’t going the way I planned. It’s time to change the subject.

  “By the way, did I tell you what a great game you had today?”

  Her eyes pop open wider. “You were there?” I mentally pat myself on the back.

  “Of course I was. I’ve been at all your home games.” Silence hangs between us. “Why does that surprise you so much?”

  She raises her elegant shoulders in a small shrug. “It just does.”

  “I told you I’ve missed seeing you and I meant it.”

  “How can you miss me when you barely know me?”

  “Because what I do know I like - a lot.” She rolls her eyes, dismissing my words as insincere. Cupping her chin with my palm, I hold her face and lean down until only a few inches separate us. Staring into the bottomless blue depths, it’s all I can do to remain focused on what I need to say and not crash our lips together. “Don’t roll your eyes at me when I’m being serious. I know more about you than you think.”

  “Oh yeah?” she taunts, her sassy mouth challenging me.

  “I know you’re a loyal and fiercely protective friend. You work hard at everything you do. You’re focused and competitive.”

  “Those are generalizations that can apply to most people,” she interjects.

  “I know you’re a vegan and you eat more vegetables than a rabbit. When you bite into a veggie burger your eyes close with pleasure and they don’t open again until you’ve swallowed the bite.”

  “They do?” Surprise laces her tone.

  “They do. I also know you like fruit salad, but you won’t eat kiwi, and you add lemon to your ice water. Should I keep going?” She nods. “You play with your hair when you’re thinking, you press your lips together when you’re nervous. You pick your nail polish when you’re bored, and you prefer to wear your hair up.”

  “How do you know all those things?”

  “I pay attention. Oh and one more thing, you rock back and forth on your feet when the defense is playing.”

  “Are you a stalker?” She smiles up at me, momentarily letting her guard down. Her eyes twinkle with humor and my stomach somersaults.

  “Totally. Better pull those shades at night. Although, those pink panties are sexy as fuck.” I take at a stab guessing a color girls usually like.

  Her smile fades and her mouth opens. “Are you joking, or have you really been peeking in my windows?”

  I bark out a laugh. “I had you going.”

  Chapter Four

  Grace

  My cheeks suffuse with heat. He had me thinking he’d really seen me in my panties. Now that I realize he was joking, I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time. Why I’m conflicted, I’m not sure.

  Do I want him to see me in my panties? No. Then why does the thought of him secretly watching me make me feel flushed all over? Is it because he’s so stunningly attractive? I’ve seen many good looking guys before and none of them made me feel so out of sorts.

  When we’re together I’m off balance, teetering as if any moment my legs could be swept out from under me. He makes me unsure and I despise it. I’ve always been confident in my abilities and my work ethic. Even when it comes to my own looks, I’m satisfied. I don’t need to be beautiful like a model to be happy with my appearance. I’m strong and athletic, and both of those things are more important to me than the color of my hair or whether my hair looks good.

  Oh God, does my hair look okay? I barely ran a comb through it after my shower. I run a hand over the top of my head to make sure it’s smooth and hate myself for falling into the vanity trap. Fuck that. I’m a strong, confident woman. Why do I care what a guy thinks?

  Ruffling my fingers through the front of my hair I deliberately mess it up, tossing the strands to and fro until I look like I belong in an eighties hair band. And I refuse to fix it. Even though I know I must look ridiculous.

  “Are you okay?” Trevor chuckles and I realize my actions probably seem extremely odd to someone watching.

  “Yep, I’m good.” I nod, knocking more hair down over my face. Reaching out, he combs his fingers through the tousled strands, gently pushing them back until my face is fully revealed.

  “There, much better.” He winks. My stomach peaks and dips in response. “I want to see your face when we’re talking.”

  “What if we don’t talk at all?”

  “I still want to gaze upon your overwhelming beauty.”

  I roll my eyes. “Laying it on a little thick aren’t you?”

  “I’m stating a fact.”

  “I’m not one of those girls who’s going to fall into your bed.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of bending you over it, but we can work out the details later.” His words infuse my body with a slow ripple of heat moving from the crown of my head all the way down to the tips of my bare toes. Licking my dry lips, I struggle for a comeback. I’m at a loss of what to say to him. My mind is still locked on the thought of him fucking me from behind while I’m head
down, ass up on the bed. The vision is so vivid, I can practically feel my fingers clutching the crisp sheets.

  “Trevor. There you are.” A busty brunette calls out as she bounces our way with an ultra white smile pasted on her face. Certain parts of her are extremely bouncy. Staring down at my own average sized chest, I suddenly feel inadequate. Dammit. What’s my problem? I spend an hour with Trevor and I start to question everything about my looks. This is another reason why I need to limit my contact with him. He forced my hand tonight, but from here out it should be easy to keep my distance.

  Miss Smiley grips Trevor’s arm, pressing her boobs into his bicep. “Where’ve you been hiding? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I’ve been right here.”

  “I want to spend some time with you.”

  “Sandy, I’m in the middle of talking to—”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I cut in with a tight smile. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Scampering off, I don’t look back. I make my way to the front door and slip outside as quickly as possible. Pulling out my phone, I text Leah.

  Me: I’m leaving. Are you staying?

  It only takes about thirty seconds before she answers.

  Leah: Wait for me. Be right there.

  I head down the brick path and pause on the sidewalk to wait for her. My thoughts wander to Sandy and how she’s the kind of girl Trevor goes for. I’m an oddity to him. Someone to toy with and get into his bed. By the time five minutes has passed I’m fuming and convinced Trevor is having a good laugh at my expense. How dare he toy with me?

  I begin pacing to kill time. I want to get out of here before Trevor comes looking for me. Hell, who am I kidding? He’s with Miss Bouncy. He’s not going to waste time on me when he has a sure thing hanging on his arm. By now they’re probably getting it on in one of the bedrooms. Is he bending her over the mattress? My eyes squeeze shut to block out the image. Shit. I don’t want to think about him screwing someone else. And the fact that I care if he is escalates my anger. Why does it matter if he’s screwing a cheerleader? Hell, I shouldn’t care if he takes turns with all of them… but I do. Dammit.