Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3

by Jerica MacMillan

Chris clenched his jaw when Matt broke in again. “Don't encourage him, Lance. His hands-off approach has been working so far.”

  Looking back and forth between them, Lance chuckled. “Alright, I guess that’s all I’m getting from you guys on that subject tonight. Let's get to Chris's question. What do you guys want to do tonight? I'm out of the loop, so if there are any parties going on, it's up to you to tell me.”

  “Abby doesn't keep you filled in on that kind of thing?” Matt asked innocently, a grin stretching across his face.

  Finally. Chris let out a breath of relief that the attention had moved away from him and whatever they thought might be going on with Megan. There was nothing going on. He didn't want anything going on. Yeah, sure, he'd wanted her when he'd met her over the summer, but she hadn't taken the bait. He'd come to the conclusion that she wasn't a jersey chaser, just there to hook up and brag about it later. She liked to drink and have fun, but she didn’t go to parties just to hook up. That's why he'd been pissed when that little sophomore had talked about her like that. He knew she wasn't like that, and she was his roommate, so it was his job to look out for her now. Right?

  Right.

  But he hadn't gotten laid in over a month. With practice and away games, he'd either been too tired or not home for the parties that he'd heard about. Had Megan gone to any of those parties? Who had she danced with? Had she hooked up with anyone while he was gone? It was probably best that he didn't know and hadn't been around. He didn't want to watch her getting groped by random guys again.

  At least this time Lance and Matt would both be along with them. And Abby. They could all keep an eye on Megan while he found a jersey chaser to take the edge off.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The sound of the guys laughing and talking reached Megan as she and Abby came around the corner. But their voices trailed off as soon as they spotted her and Abby, and Megan had the distinct feeling the guys had been talking about her. Or Abby. Maybe both of them.

  Abby went straight to Lance, and he wrapped his arms around her while they kissed.

  Chris made coughing noises into his hand to not quite cover him saying, “Whipped.”

  Without breaking away from Abby, Lance lifted one hand and flipped him off. Megan smirked. Matt came over and bumped her shoulder. “We're heading to a party. Want to ride with me? I'll be the DD, even.”

  She bumped him back. “I can drive. You and Chris deserve to let loose tonight.”

  “You sure?” His eyes searched her face.

  “Or I can drive,” Abby broke in. “We all know that I drink way less than all of you. I don't mind being the DD.”

  Chris shook his head. “I don't want to cram into the back seat of your tiny car, Abby. I'll drive myself. I don't feel like getting drunk tonight anyway. Matt and Megan, you guys can ride with whoever you want.”

  Heat coursed through Megan as Chris's eyes flicked over her body, igniting in every place his gaze touched. He stared at the point where her arm still touched Matt’s for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw ticking. Stone-faced, Chris looked her in the eye one last time before heading to the parking lot without waiting for anyone's answer.

  Megan glanced at Matt, who wore a bemused expression on his face as he watched Chris walk away. Turning back to the group, Matt slung an arm around Megan's shoulders. “I don't mind your tiny car, Abby. We can ride with you.”

  “Uh, thanks?” Abby said. “We came in Lance's car, though.”

  Matt laughed. “Even better.”

  They walked to Lance’s beat-up GTO, the parking lot all but deserted since they’d wasted so much time talking. Matt punched Lance in the shoulder as Lance pulled out his keys. “Are you ever going to paint this old rust bucket? No wonder your dad didn't want you taking over the shop if you’re still driving around in this thing.”

  Ignoring him, Lance leaned over the car and patted it on the roof. “Don't listen to him. You're beautiful.”

  Megan grinned and went around to the passenger side where Abby held the front seat forward so she could slide in the back, Matt climbing in beside her.

  The party was well underway by the time they arrived—music blaring and Marycliff students spilling out onto the front lawn. When they walked through the front door, a cheer went up from the guys on the couches at the sight of Lance and Matt. Both guys went straight over to greet their fan club.

  Hooking her arm through Abby’s, Megan tugged her away. “C’mon. Let's go find the drinks.” They made their way through the crowd into the kitchen, where they found a keg of beer and nothing else. Megan filled a cup for each of them and handed one to Abby.

  Abby wrinkled her nose in distaste. Taking a sip, her expression turned into a grimace.

  Fighting back an eye roll at her friend’s dramatics—Abby always complained about beer—Megan sipped her own. But she had to agree with Abby—it was crappy beer. She sighed, bummed that they didn't have something better to drink than this.

  “How long do you think we're going to stay?” Abby asked just loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise, eyeing her cup, disgust written on her face.

  Megan chuckled, not surprised at the fact that Abby was already trying to plan her escape. Abby didn’t do parties. “I don't know. With beer this crappy, I wouldn't normally stick around long. But the guys getting greeted by cheers as soon as they walk through the door? They might want to stay a while.”

  Abby took another tentative sip and grimaced again. “Nope. It's too nasty. I can't do it. Lance keeps good beer in the house, and sometimes I'll have one of those, but even that's a stretch. I just don't like beer.”

  “Well, you're the DD anyway, so it's not like you need to drink.” Megan took another sip of hers, but she had to agree with Abby. This beer wasn’t worth drinking. If she was in the mood to get trashed, she'd chug it anyway, but she didn't feel like it tonight. “Come on.” She took Abby’s cup and abandoned their drinks on a nearby counter. “The music's good at least. Let's go see where the dancing is happening.”

  Standing on tiptoe to peek over the crowd blocking the doorways, Megan saw moving bodies on the outdoor patio. She grabbed Abby's hand so they wouldn't get separated and slipped into the stream of people moving that direction, pulling Abby behind her. The early September evening chilled her bare arms, but it felt good after being inside. Once they started dancing, it would be the perfect temperature.

  Megan turned to face Abby and started moving to the music. It had a strong bass beat, so it was easy to dance to. Standing across from her, Abby moved a little, stiff as can be. Megan laughed and grabbed Abby’s arms, wiggling them around. “Loosen up! We're supposed to be having fun!”

  With a blush, Abby gave a tentative smile. “I don't dance much! I feel like a complete idiot! And this is weird. Why haven't you ditched me already?”

  “I don't want to get drunk bad enough to drink nasty beer. I always took you to parties with good drinks. It's not my fault you didn't want to keep up before!”

  Abby laughed back at her, their shouted conversation starting to loosen her up without her realizing it. Megan smiled to herself, happy that Abby seemed to be loosening up more in general. The Abby she used to live with would never have followed her out and even tried dancing at a party. She never meant to ditch her, but Abby used to always get to a party and freeze up, hugging the wall, trying to stay out of everyone's way. Since Lance came into her life, Abby followed along to get a drink, tried the beer—more than once!—and came out to the dance floor. The music was too loud to explain all that to her, though. So Megan just smiled and kept dancing, enjoying hanging out with her friend again. Enjoying being out and young and feeling the music pulsing through her body.

  A hand on her hip let her know someone had joined her, moving with her. She turned her head to see a pair of sapphire blue eyes looking down at her, fringed by dark lashes. His short dark hair was artfully mussed. He smiled and leaned close to her ear. “Mind if I join you?”

  She shook her head.<
br />
  He put his other hand on her hip to bracket her body. Facing forward, Megan saw Abby freeze up as another good-looking guy slid in behind her. Abby shook her head at the guy, but Megan couldn't hear what she said to him over the music.

  Abby stepped closer to Megan to speak into her ear. “I’m going to find Lance. Have fun dancing!”

  As she walked away, the guy behind her leaned close to her ear again. “Your friend doesn't like to dance?”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “Not with strange guys. Her boyfriend probably wouldn't like it either.”

  His eyes widened. “What about your boyfriend?”

  She grinned. “I don't have one.”

  Returning her grin, he pulled her closer.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I am not drunk enough to deal with this,” Chris muttered to himself. He stood near the edge of the patio and watched Megan dance with some random guy. Turning away, he took another swig of his beer. His mouth twisted in distaste. Whoever got the keg did a bad job and got the cheapest thing available. They didn't even spring for liquor to make mixed drinks.

  Shitty party.

  He'd scored the touchdown that allowed their team to win. Him, the cornerback. He'd seen the CCC quarterback about to lob a short pass, and ran full out to snatch it out of the air. He still couldn't believe they'd run a passing play of any sort so close to the end of the game with such a small lead. But their stupidity was his gain.

  Teammates and other students passed by him and slapped him on the shoulder, offering their congratulations. He should be having fun. Celebrating. Finding a chick and taking the edge off.

  Instead he stood brooding in the corner, watching his roommate get groped under the guise of dancing. And she didn't seem to mind. The song ended, and the sound of her laughter in the relative quiet between songs pulled Chris's attention back to her.

  The guy moved in front of her, crowding into her space, backing her toward the door to the house. Her hands went to his chest, and she shook her head. Chris stood up straighter, fists clenched at his sides. No one was going to force Megan into something she didn't want. Not while he was watching. He already wanted to rip the dickhead's arms off for touching her anyway—not that he had any right to feel that way. He had no claim on Megan. Seeing some other guy with his hands all over her pissed him off for reasons he couldn't explain, not even to himself.

  The music started again, and Megan started dancing, moving away from the asshole who'd been trying to get her inside the house. Chris watched the guy stare after her for a moment and then join her on the dance floor again. Raising his cup to his lips, he caught another whiff of the bitter beer, and he couldn’t stomach another drink. He dumped out the rest in the dirt at his feet, leaning back to continue watching Megan dance. He felt like a stalker, but he couldn't help himself. People came and went, occasionally blocking his view, but he kept tabs on Megan and her dance partner pretty easily.

  After watching that guy run his hands over Megan's ass for what had to be the hundredth time, Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed his way past some people who picked that moment to step in front of him, trying to keep from shoving them to the ground.

  The guy was behind her, grinding his dick against Megan's ass, not at all paying attention to Chris’s approach. Letting his hand land heavily on the guy's shoulder, Chris pulled him away. Not too hard, but with enough strength to let the guy know he was serious and not to be fucked with.

  The guy stumbled back, eyes blazing. “What the fuck, man? Find your own chick. We're dancing.”

  Megan had stopped and turned to watch them. Chris bared his teeth in what might have passed for a smile. “Not anymore, dude. She's here with me.” He reached for Megan and pulled her against his side. He didn't look down at her, keeping his eyes on his rival, but she pushed against him, trying to get out from under his arm. He didn’t plan on letting her go, though. Not until after the guy moved away, muttering to himself and shaking his head.

  Megan landed a surprisingly hard punch to his back, just missing his kidney. He released her abruptly, looking down at her.

  Her brown eyes shot daggers at him. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. “What the fuck, Chris? What’s your problem?”

  “That asshole's my problem!” They were both yelling, as much from anger and frustration as the need to be heard. People around them stopped and moved away, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of a budding fight.

  Megan narrowed her eyes at him and tried to punch him again. He caught her wrist before she could make contact. “Watch it. I don't like being hit.”

  She twisted her arm in his grip, catching him off guard and going against his thumb so that he couldn’t keep ahold of her. “And I don't like assholes interrupting me when I'm trying to have a good time!” She turned and stormed back inside.

  Chris didn't let her get far before he went after her. With the press of people going in and out of the door, it wasn't hard to catch up. He followed close behind her, his front almost touching her back. She cast a glare over her shoulder, but didn't say anything, pushing through the crowd and heading for the living room.

  Lance sat on the couch with Abby in his lap, talking to some of their mutual friends. He looked up when Abby started to get off his lap, but before Abby and Megan could get to each other, Chris swooped in and pulled Megan toward the front door. Lance watched all this, and he stopped Abby with a hand on her leg, tugging on her hand to convince her to sit back down. Chris lifted his chin to Lance in thanks. Abby didn't look like she was going to give in, but Lance whispered something in her ear, and she relaxed back into him.

  Too bad Megan didn't give in that easily. She struggled against his grip, but since he had her by the upper arm, she couldn't do that twist thing to get away again. He dragged her through the front door, away from the bulk of the crowd so they could speak without shouting—not that he thought there was any hope of that—and they'd be less likely to be interrupted. When he was satisfied with their location, he dragged Megan around to face him and let her go.

  That might have been a mistake, since she immediately stepped close to hit him again. They were open palm slaps against his chest, more to vent than to try to hurt. At least he hoped so. From the way she'd almost punched him in the kidney, he was pretty sure she'd be punching him if she wanted to try to hurt him.

  Which she did next.

  Hard.

  Right in the solar plexus. He bent at the waist as his breath whooshed out with a grunt.

  With his head closer to her level, she started shouting at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How dare you interrupt my dancing and then drag me out here!” She slapped him on the cheek next. That stung. “Don't you ever manhandle me like that again!”

  He straightened up, rubbing his cheek. “You done?”

  She tipped her head back to glare at him. Man, she was pissed. “I’m not sure. It depends on what stupid thing you do or say next. I might have to knee you in the balls.”

  He grunted in response and ran a hand over his face to cover the smile that was fighting to get out. If she thought he'd let her get close enough to knee his balls, she'd be in for a surprise.

  She stared at him, waiting. After a minute she threw her hands up in exasperation. “Are you going to answer me? Or should I hit you some more until I feel better?”

  “What was the question again?”

  She took a step toward him, and he readied himself to block a strike to the groin. Instead, she got right up in his space, and he could smell her shampoo. Strawberries. “I asked you what. The. Fuck. Your. Problem. Is.” She emphasized each word with a smack to the chest.

  He grabbed her wrist, tired of being used as her personal punching bag. “Enough. I took it when you hit me earlier because I deserved it, but that's enough.” He crowded into her personal space even more, bringing his body flush against hers. Her head tipped back, eyes wide, lips parted. He wanted to kiss her. He'd been wanting to kiss her for
months now. And he wanted her more now than he'd ever wanted anyone before. “As for what my problem is, you're my problem.”

  At his words, the pissed off expression took over her face again. “What the hell does that mean? I haven't done anything to you!”

  “Fuck, Megan. I can't stand watching you dance with all these other guys, seeing them put their hands all over you, groping you. And you seem to like it. Are you out fucking around while Matt and I are gone? Having parties at our house so you're not home alone?”

  She gasped, her nostrils flaring. He caught her hand before it made contact with his other cheek. She struggled against his grip, but he didn't let go.

  “How dare you? You have no right to accuse me of anything! You're the biggest manwhore I know! You fuck any chick that you have your eye on and dump her the minute you're done! How dare you of all people say that to me?”

  She struggled against his hold, so he put her arms behind her back, wrapping his arms around her middle, keeping her pressed against him, trapping one of her legs with both of his so she couldn't make good on her threat to knee him in the balls. Her tone was laced with venom, and he almost recoiled from the bite. Except he was getting more pissed off too. She thought he was a manwhore?

  But Megan wasn't done. “And it's none of your fucking business if I'm fucking anyone. You're my roommate, and a shitty one at that. I don't need you scaring off guys who I just want to dance with.”

  “That asshole wanted more than just a dance.”

  She surged against him, getting in his face. “You think I'm too stupid to know that? Just because he wants more doesn't mean I'm going to give it up.”

  There was no safe response to that, so he went back to the other part of her previous statement that didn’t sit right with him. “And what do you mean I'm a shitty roommate?”

  She laughed at him, a loud, ugly laugh. “You barely say two words at a time to Matt or me. You're rude and standoffish.”

  She started struggling again, trying to break his hold. He clamped down harder, but that might’ve been a mistake. With the way he held her, her breasts pushed against his chest and they rubbed back and forth with her movements. No straight man could withstand a hot chick rubbing against him without his dick getting hard. And Chris was no exception. Ignoring his body’s reaction, he spit out his answer to her complaint through gritted teeth. “Matt told me to back off and leave you alone, so I did.”