Drumline

by Stacy Kestwick

  “D. I’ve never met someone more confident than you.” And the way he said it made me wish it were true.

  I swallowed hard, thinking back to those years as a kid, when I was swollen from the steroids and chemo and my hair was patchy at best. Yeah, I was good now. I’d made the decision years ago that fear was the lamest reason for not reaching my goals, because I refused to do anything except live my life to the fullest. But getting to this point was a journey I wouldn’t wish on anyone. And choice B? Overprotective didn’t even begin to describe it. There was a reason I chose to attend a college hundreds of miles from home, in a different time zone. Two reasons, in fact. Mom and Dad.

  “Nope.” I didn’t hesitate, didn’t give him time to react to my answer. I rushed right into reading number nine, reciting the words on my phone, but my mind was back in West Virginia, looking out the window of the children’s hospital as my veins were pumped full of poison while people outside the hospital were busy with the task of living. Of doing. Of running and playing and going places without thinking first about the potential germ level and whether their white cell counts could handle the risk.

  No, I was never going to be that person again.

  Laird shifted in front of me, leaning against the wall two feet away, arms crossed over his chest. My eyes blinked away the past and he came back into focus. “Yup. You got that one right.” I had no idea what the question was. Or his answer. He could have the stupid point.

  I cleared my throat, swallowing back the memories. “Last one. When you look at her, you picture A. Later that night, in your bed. Or hers. Wherever you end up. B. The wicked cool weekend away you two have scheduled for next month and the new things you’ll try together. C. That big event at the end of the season, the one you still need to rent a tux for. D. Whether your kids will have your eyes or hers.”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  It was asking where he saw the relationship going. How long he thought this would last. I blinked, caught off guard. “Look, this quiz is stupid, you don’t have to ans—”

  “All of them.”

  “What do you mean, all of them?” My voice crept up with each word, ending in a near shriek.

  His voice was rough, his eyes hooded as he repeated himself. “All. Of. Them.”

  I laughed awkwardly, surely he didn’t mean—

  “Reese. I can’t count the number of times I’ve thought of you in my bed, under me, on top of me, tangled around me, in every fucking position you can imagine. In my shower. On the couch. The bench you’re sitting on right now, knees bent, ass in the air, tits pressed against the table with your fingers curled around the edges.”

  He took a step closer. My pulse skyrocketed.

  “I’ve imagined you in a tiny little bikini on the Gulf Shore, me rubbing sunscreen on your back, your legs wrapped tight around my waist while I held you in the ocean, us fishing for our dinner on my cousin’s boat.”

  Another step. I bit my lip.

  “Did you know the band is invited to the football banquet in January? I don’t normally go, but I wouldn’t pass up a chance to see you in some killer heels and a long dress with a slit up the side, teasing me with flashes of those thighs all night. I wouldn’t let anyone else dance with you.” He paused. “You’d be all mine.”

  His arms caged me against the table he’d just talked about fucking me on from behind, and my vision went a little hazy.

  “And kids? If we got to that point, I’d want a boy first. One who’d grow up big like me. And then a little girl, one just as gorgeous as you. But a boy first, so she’d always have a brother to watch out for her. To keep her safe when I wasn’t there to do it myself.”

  There was a flicker in his eyes at the end, something dark and turbulent. It was gone before I could analyze it though, try to figure him out. He sucked in a breath. When he exhaled, he was inches away from me, his muscular chest bent over mine, forcing me backward at an angle.

  His words came millimeters from my lips.

  “Any other questions?”

  Yes.

  When, where, and how fast could we start?

  My eyes drifted shut.

  And I waited.

  And waited.

  I lifted my chin a bit, hoping it was enough to close the distance between us.

  Nothing.

  I peeked. His lips hovered just out of reach, his expression both soft and hungry at the same time. “Give me the words, Reese. Tell me off the field, I can have you. That you’re mine.”

  Off the field.

  It was like being doused with a bucketful of ice-cold reality.

  My pride dueled with my wet panties.

  And damn it all to hell, I had a vibrator in my dorm to handle my clit, but nothing to replace my self-respect and dignity if the guys on the line found out, if they treated me differently as a result. School hadn’t even started yet. Gaining a reputation as a slut who failed to make the cut before the first day wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.

  “I can’t.” The words were faint. I could hardly force them past my lips.

  He growled dangerously. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Right now, both.”

  I barely knew him, I reminded myself. He was beautiful and said things that made me want to spontaneously combust, but I barely knew him. If this turned out to be a mistake, a short fling—or worse, a one-night stand—how would the rest of the season play out?

  Would I be around long enough to find out?

  He pushed off the table. Blinked at me as if in utter disbelief, then turned away and rubbed his jaw. His voice was flat with disappointment. “Right. Let me grab a quick shower, a cold one, and I’ll take you home. There are more veggies in the freezer for your side while you wait.” He didn’t look at me, just disappeared through the door to my left, slamming it behind him.

  I shivered, despite the heat of the townhouse.

  Oscar poked me with his nose, then jumped onto the bench beside me and laid his head in my lap, as if offering himself as a consolation prize. I rubbed his soft, speckled ears and smiled sadly at him.

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  The sound of another door slamming and then running water broke the silence. Minutes passed. I didn’t want to put my sweaty shirt back on, but I didn’t want to be out here half-naked when he reappeared either.

  He probably hated me now, I reasoned, as I rose from the bench and crossed to the door he’d gone through, the one I assumed led to his bedroom.

  I cracked it open a tiny bit.

  It was empty.

  With as much quiet stealth as I could, I opened a random drawer on the dresser against the wall. Socks. I tried the one next to it and paused. Evidently, Laird preferred boxer briefs. But not just plain black ones. Orange, lime green, electric blue, and yellow options were jumbled up in a messy array. I touched the soft material of the one on top, unable to help myself from imagining him in only those, slowly lowering the fabric over his tight ass, until I could see—

  The door behind me opened. I hadn’t even realized the water had cut off. I turned to face him.

  Steam billowed around him as he stood in the open doorway, water dripping down his chest, the towel around his hips in danger of falling off.

  “Change your mind?” He smirked.

  “I—” Holy virgin mother of the sweet baby Jesus. “I was looking for a clean t-shirt to borrow. For the ride back.” Even though the towel covered more than the shorts he’d had on earlier today, the effect of him in a towel with a bed right beside us was almost more than I could take. I wiped my mouth surreptitiously for drool.

  Four strides brought him to my side. He glanced down. “Snooping in my underwear drawer?” He plucked out the pair I’d been stroking, dark gray with a red waistband and red stripe right down the crotch. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, and the glimpse I caught of him before he pulled the boxer briefs on confirmed his earlier statement.

  His dick was huge. The story he told me earlier abo
ut how he acquired Oscar flitted through my mind. That was definitely a prize-winning specimen.

  My whole body felt like it was blushing, and I was damp everywhere.

  “Wrong drawer.” There was a challenge in his eyes, as if daring me not to react to his outrageous stunt. He reached for a drawer directly behind me, and when he yanked it open, it bumped into the back of my thighs, pushing me forward into him. My hands landed on his abs, splayed across those hard, wet ridges of muscle, and I don’t know if the moan I heard came from him or me.

  My fingers curled and his abs rippled as I regained my balance, my nails dragging across his tanned skin. It was a study in contrasts, the cool drops of water on his warm flesh, the way I yielded instinctively as he leaned in, my soft sigh mixing with his harsh breaths. Our thighs were pressed together, and I could feel the impressive bulge growing behind that red stripe down the middle of his briefs.

  Before I could respond, react, do something, he released me, a blue-and-white shirt with the Rodner University shark logo in hand. “Here.” The muscle in his jaw ticked as he pulled it over my head, and by the time I’d wriggled my arms through the sleeves, he was fully dressed.

  The shirt swallowed me, despite my height, hiding my shorts and falling to mid-thigh. I licked my lips and backed up apprehensively, not sure how to gauge his current mood. His gaze raked down the length of me, nostrils flaring, before he turned away.

  “Keep it,” he said gruffly. “It looks better on you anyway.”

  The cotton was soft, either by design or from being washed so many times, and it smelled like him, a mix of fabric softener and something muskier, like sweat that came from hot sex instead of cardio. My skin prickled in the spots where his eyes returned and lingered, the neckline, my thighs.

  “Thank you.” My words landed awkwardly, too loud in the intimacy of his room.

  “Don’t thank me.” His face twisted with a self-mocking smile. “I’ll be jacking off later, thinking about you wearing just my shirt, nothing underneath it except those black lace panties of yours.”

  Laird

  Reese didn’t talk to me on the ride back to campus.

  Not a word.

  A different guy might let that bother him. Feel insecure and try to fill the silence with small talk or flirting or apologies or turn on the radio just to have some goddamn background noise to drown out the nothing.

  Not me. Nope.

  I let her sit there, two feet away, within a fucking arm’s reach and did nothing.

  Her mind was whirling. I could tell by the way her gaze would dart around, then fixate on something before going a little vacant when she was no longer paying attention to the college-town scenery Rodner, Alabama had to offer and was inside her own head.

  Just thinking.

  Because I was an arrogant asshole, I was pretty damn sure those thoughts were all centered on me and the words I told her at my townhouse. That final, dirty promise I made her.

  I stole a glance at her when I made a right turn onto her street. Strands of her dark hair were curling from the humidity around the base of her neck where it’d escaped from her ponytail, or maybe it was from when I’d wrapped those long locks around my hand and pulled her head back to expose her throat.

  Damn, that’d felt good. When she’d responded by parting her lips and closing her eyes a little, her breathing a little softer and more rapid than it’d been before I’d touched her. When her thighs had rubbed together only to part again at the knees when I moved closer, as if begging me to explore.

  And, fuck if I didn’t want to learn everything there was to know about her. Which spot made her gasp and tense up, if she preferred to be licked slow and gentle or firm and fast, the perfect angle that made her scream my name. It wasn’t just her body either. Seeing her at the hospital had hit me at a visceral level. I wanted to find out what made her laugh, discover the secret to making her smile so big that dimple appeared, and uncover her greatest fear so I could stand by her side when she had to face it. Yeah, this wasn’t a girl who’d let me do the dirty work for her, slay her dragons while she cowered in the ivy-covered tower. Reese would be on the front lines, carving her own path and wielding her own sword. And I wanted to be the one to have her back on the journey.

  When I pulled to a stop in front of Petersen Hall, her dorm, she didn’t react. Her full lower lip was caught between her teeth and she was absently stroking her neck, that soft spot just below her ear where I’d nibbled earlier.

  Yeah. She was thinking about me.

  It was only after I circled the Jeep, opened her door, reached in, and shook her knee slightly that she responded, jerking back to the present with a little gasp.

  I couldn’t help the shit-eating grin on my face.

  “We’re here.”

  She climbed out of my Wrangler and blinked, as if surprised to find we were steps away from her dorm. I let my hand settle on the small of her back, pleased when she didn’t object or pull away, and steered her through the lobby to the elevator that would take us to her room on the fourth floor.

  During the ascent, I studied our dull reflections on the chrome walls. I’d never been with a girl as tall as her, but I liked the way we looked together. Height on a girl would have some definite advantages. Longer legs to wrap around my waist. I wouldn’t have to contort to try to kiss her lips or suck her nipples while I was buried deep inside her. Shower sex would be a thousand times easier. Even something as simple as reaching down to hold her hand.

  Reese might have ruined me on short girls forever before I’d even tasted her.

  I walked her to her door, room 407, then followed her in after she unlocked it without waiting for an invitation. While I would never, ever force myself on a girl, I wasn’t above playing a little dirty when it came to her.

  As she toed off her shoes in the corner, I crossed over to the little basket on the edge of her desk, where I’d found a bottle of ibuprofen the night I’d brought her drunken ass back here and taken care of her. Removing it and shaking it to ensure it wasn’t empty, I set it and a bottle of water I snagged from her mini-fridge next to her bed.

  “You can have more at midnight,” I reminded her. “Don’t forget. You’re gonna need it to get through tomorrow.”

  Her glance flickered between the bottle of pills and me, her eyebrows folding down in confusion. “How did you know where…”

  I stared at her. Waited for recognition to widen her gaze, for her to bite her lip in embarrassment maybe. Confusion filled her eyes and pursed her lips. I huffed out a laugh of disbelief. “Jesus, you don’t remember do you?”

  She cocked her head just slightly. “Remember?”

  “After the drumline party? The one where you kissed Smith?” My voice dripped with bitterness as I said his name. I couldn’t help it.

  “I thought Willa…” she trailed off, comprehension dawning. “It was you?”

  I nodded curtly. That explained her reaction, or lack thereof, at practice the next day. While I hadn’t necessarily expected a thank you, I’d expected… fuck, something. An acknowledgement at least?

  She rubbed her chin absently before she stiffened, shooting me a panicked look. “I woke up without pants that morning. Without a bra.”

  And I’d beaten myself off more than once to the memory of undressing her, as innocent as it had been. I couldn’t help torture her a little right now though. “Yup.”

  “So you—” she bit off the rest of her words, her face pinking in the best way as her eyes slid closed.

  I wouldn’t laugh at her though. I’d never do that. Taking the two strides necessary to reach her, I cupped her jaw and tipped her face up to mine. “Nothing happened, Reese. Not like that. Not with you wasted.” I paused, let those words sink in before I continued. “When I touch you—and make no mistake, it’s a when, not an if—you’re going to remember every fucking second of it. And it’ll be because you want it as badly as I do.” Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and I tugged it free with my
thumb. “I took care of you, hung out and watched you like a fucking creeper to make sure you weren’t gonna puke all over yourself in the middle of the night, and left before the sun came up.”

  She cringed.

  “Did you know you make this soft little whimper sometimes when you’re sleeping? Not a snore, it’s a different noise.” I ran my thumb along her cheekbone, where the pink was the darkest. “It made me wonder what you were dreaming about.”

  The pink changed under my hand, darkening further.

  I dipped down, traced her jaw with my nose. “You better not have been dreaming about that fucker, Smith. Are you seeing him?”

  “And if I was?”

  White-hot jealousy pierced my chest and I wanted to roar my displeasure. She. Was. Mine. I tamped down the intensity to an acceptable level, forcing a slow breath in and out through my nose. Like fuck would I allow that shit. “I’d hate for you to break his heart when you choose me instead.” I nibbled her lobe, followed the delicate shell of her ear with my tongue. My cock jumped when she swayed against me, her hands fisting the sides of my shirt at my hips. I buried my smile in her hair. “Because you will.”

  With that vow, I released her, pleased as hell when she sank down to sit on the edge of her bed, as if her legs couldn’t support her.

  “I’m gonna go.” I tipped my head toward the door. “You going to be okay? Do you want me to drive you to the health clinic? I think it’s just bruised, but if you think one of your ribs…?” I’d probed them lightly at the apartment when she was pressed against me in the bedroom. She hadn’t flinched when I’d run my hand down her side until I got to her waist, well past the curve of her ribs.

  “No, I’m good.” She hesitated. “Laird…” Another long pause as uncertainty flitted over her face, before she seemed to reach some kind of decision. “Your apartment is a thousand degrees. There’s no way you can sleep there tonight. I have an extra bed if you wanna crash here.” She nodded at the bare twin bed behind us. “You said you stayed the other night…”