Aced (Blocked #2)

by Jennifer Lane

  Though she seemed perfect to me, I nodded.

  “I’ve been ashamed of my imperfect family. I always knew I was different from all the girls at school—the ones who had mommies waiting for them at home—and that difference felt shameful. I felt defective. I kept my distance from people.”

  What a risk she had taken to let me into her heart, after all she’d been through. “But you haven’t kept me at a distance.”

  Her face lit up. “I can’t stay away from you, Hotajandro.”

  Warmth flowed through me, and I squeezed her hand. “Thank God. But why me?”

  “I think I was tired of my life. The depression is a sign of that. And when people found out about my mom, they didn’t judge me like I thought they would. You didn’t judge me. You make me feel important, like somebody who matters.” She shook her head. “All those years I feared others’ scorn, simply for being different.” She sighed. “It’s sad we let our differences come between us. I don’t want that to happen anymore.”

  “I agree.” I rested my hand on her leg and drew small circles on the inside of her knee.

  “I can tell you and Rez really love your dad. You admire him. But you know something?” She leaned in, her eyes fierce. “It’s okay to be different from your dad. You can think differently than him. You can make different choices.”

  I shrugged. “I know that.”

  “Do you?” Her eyes searched mine.

  I stilled. Do I?

  Her hand skimmed my jaw, almost lifting me off my seat. We gazed at each other for minutes or hours—I couldn’t tell for sure. She kept coming closer, and when her lips met mine, the buoyant sensation intensified. My eyes closed as I rode the waves of her sweet kisses. We swam in a sea of gold, with no anchors, no land in sight. I clutched her waist as I deepened her kiss. I wanted to float here forever.

  My eyes flew open when she unbuckled my belt. Her bright eyes flashed as she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, undoing me in the process. Was I ready for this? I sucked in a breath when her hot touch brushed over my boxer shorts, lighting me up inside. Hell yes, I’m ready. I stopped breathing when she reached in and drew my penis through the opening of my boxers. My hips bucked the second she touched me, her hand igniting an electric charge.

  One of her hands pressed into my shoulder while the other rubbed and massaged my growing erection. We both watched my body respond to her silky, stimulating touch. I arched my back, almost writhing against the sofa, and ran my hand through her hair to anchor myself.

  She offered me a sassy smirk. “Oral sex doesn’t count as premarital sex, right?”

  Lord, her beautiful mouth on me? “Not according to Bill Clinton.” I felt lightheaded with anticipation. “I did not have sex with that woman,” I assured her in my best Southern accent.

  Her throaty laugh brought new heights to my arousal. “You think Bill and Monica did it in the Lincoln Room?” She grinned as she slithered down my body, landing softly on her knees. She looked up at me, her eyes darkening, then focused her gaze on my crotch. This was happening? I couldn’t breathe. Brad was right outside. Her mouth rounded as she leaned forward, her lips glistening from our kisses.

  My father’s voice floated through my mind. Have I made my expectations clear? Was I ready for this?

  “Stop.”

  Her head yanked back, her eyes confused.

  “I’m sorry.” I’m a jerk. “I’m screwing this up. I just can’t…”

  She sat back on her heels. I sighed with frustration.

  After settling down, I zipped my pants, then clasped her arms. “You’re gorgeous. I want you so badly.”

  She let me guide her to her feet, but when I tugged her toward my lap, she hesitated. After a moment, I exhaled when she folded into me.

  “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just…” I pressed a kiss into her collarbone. “We’re in the White House of all places, and I’m just not ready, I guess.”

  It sounded like she stifled a groan. “So embarrassing, me throwing myself at you like that. Talk about vulnerability.”

  “Please don’t be embarrassed. This is about my hang-ups, not at all about your desirability. God, I desire you. It’s this damn Catholic guilt eating me up.”

  She avoided my eyes as she took that in. Then she looked up at me. “Good things come to those who wait?”

  She was adorable. “I hope so.” I’d waited for someone like her for twenty-four years. “You totally turn me on, and I don’t know if I can hold off much longer.”

  As she kissed my forehead, my mind processed what had just happened. Why had I stopped her? I’d always thought sex before marriage was wrong, but now that I was an adult, I had to discern if that was what I really believed or if I was simply parroting my parents.

  Maddie had let me in, but surely she’d eventually kick me out I refused to have sex. The thought of losing her crushed me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “COU-COU-COU-COUGARS!”

  The cheerleaders’ chant echoed in my head, annoying me. Typically they didn’t show up at men’s volleyball games, but playing our rival Bridgetown in mid-March drew them to the arena like buzzing bees protecting their honeycomb. Bridgetown’s one-game lead over Highbanks in the conference standings made tonight’s match key to an NCAA tournament berth.

  “We never had cheerleaders at baseball games,” Alejandro said. Delight bubbled inside of me, just having him here. His impromptu weekend visit had come only two weeks after I’d last seen him at the White House.

  From the other side of me, Lucia said, “That’s ’cause baseball’s boring as hell.”

  “You clearly don’t understand the finer points of America’s favorite pastime,” Alejandro shot back.

  Lucia pointed her nose in the air. “Clearly.” Her tone was mocking.

  To my surprise, Alejandro chuckled instead of escalating the argument. “Baseball is pretty boring to watch.” He took my hand and rubbed it with his thumb, sending prickles of excitement up my spine.

  The referee blew his whistle, and Dane shot away from the net, clutching the side of his head. I flinched. When he straightened, his hand fell away to reveal an angry dash of red above his eyebrow. Lucia gasped. The Bridgetown setter stood across from Dane with his hands perched on his hips. Had that asshole just hit Dane through the net?

  The referee tapped the taut string on the top of the net and pointed his arm to the Cougars’ side of the court, indicating side-out for a net violation. Hadn’t he seen the blood on Dane’s face?

  Dane spun to face the Bridgetown player, and though his voice was too low for us to hear, his words brought the player back toward the net.

  Our athletic trainer, Tina, approached the sideline, but it wasn’t until Dane’s coach, Phil, came onto the court that the referee realized a player had been injured. The ref whistled again, halting play.

  “I wonder if that needs stitches,” Alejandro said.

  A trail of blood oozed down Dane’s sweaty face, but his extended arm prevented Tina from examining the wound as he continued jawing with his rival. Their volume increased, and I thought I heard “fucking Neanderthal” come out of Dane’s mouth. Phil tried to talk him down but Dane leaned forward and jabbed his finger through the net, spit flying from his mouth. Josh tugged on Dane’s arm to no avail. The sideline ref scowled as he approached the players. Uh-oh. Would Dane get thrown out of the match?

  “¡Tranquilo, Dane!” Lucia yelled. He looked up at us, but when the Bridgetown setter said something, he whipped back toward the net. The head referee blew his whistle again and climbed down from the stand where he’d been perched. This was bad. Just when the arena quieted in anticipation, Lucia hollered something in Spanish.

  Dane’s head turned toward us again. I was amazed when his glare morphed into a brilliant smile. He stepped back from the net and allowed Tina to guide him to a chair on the sidelines, where she and the team physician examined his cut.

  “Madre de dios.” Alejandro cu
pped his hands over his mouth and looked behind him at his agents. He scanned the crowd as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Please tell me nobody else speaks Spanish here.”

  “What’d you say to him?” I asked Lucia.

  She looked across me at her brother, and started giggling.

  “Dios, Lucy.” Alejandro shook his head, but couldn’t stop smiling. He waited a beat. “She just told everyone the Bridgetown setter had a tiny penis. But Dane’s hung like a horse.”

  My eyes widened. “Sweet, innocent Rez?” I noticed her characteristic blush finally making an appearance.

  “Not so innocent anymore,” Alejandro said. But then he laughed.

  Once the team doc had applied a butterfly bandage to Dane’s forehead, play resumed. Almost immediately Dane set a perfect ball, which Josh slammed for a kill. Dane mouthed Fuck, yeah as he chest-bumped Josh. Bridgetown’s attempt to rile him had backfired, pleasing me to no end.

  “I think I’ll get a drink,” I said. “Want anything?”

  “I’ll get it for you.” Alejandro let go of my hand.

  Behind us I heard his agents shift in their seats.

  “It’s okay, really.” I laid my hand on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his button-down shirt. When would I get to see them up close? It had been so embarrassing to have Alex refuse my advances in the Lincoln Room, but Dr. Valentine had helped me take it less personally. She said I’d done a masterful job being vulnerable, but I needed to give him some time. The anticipation was killing me.

  “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it—I just want a drink,” I told him. “You stay and keep Rez in line.”

  I expected Lucia to protest, but she was too absorbed in the game to hear me.

  His mouth tightened, but then he nodded and stood. “Probably a good idea. Who knows what she’ll say next.”

  I laughed as I scooted around him to exit the row. Brad stood as well, looking like he wanted to follow me. But both men had to settle for watching me as I headed slowly to the concession stand, out of their sight. My butt muscles ached from Coach B’s monster lunge workout this morning.

  The greasy smell of pizza awakened my hunger, and I considered ordering some food, but Alejandro planned to take me out for an anniversary dinner after the match. I was in a celebratory mood and didn’t want to order boring bottled water. I’d lasted over one month with Alex, and he hadn’t bailed yet. If anything, we seemed to grow closer each week. So I asked for my favorite: root beer. When I punched a straw into the lid, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Soda’s bad for you, Mads.”

  I held my breath as I turned to find Jaylon right next to me. He had that hungry look in his eyes he always had around this time of year, and his V-shaped physique appeared even more built and defined than a month ago. Woe to his opponents in the upcoming NCAA tournament.

  “I think you lost the privilege of training me.” I moved a few steps away from the counter to a less-crowded spot in the hallway.

  He scowled. I had him there. “But you gotta be smart. You got OTC camp in April.”

  I took a sip of sweet pop as I considered his words. That was thoughtful he’d remembered the timeline of my selection camp at the Olympic Training Center. He stared at my lips as I drank. Then his gaze trailed up, meeting mine. I knew that flash in his eyes: his turned-on look. What was his deal? I hadn’t seen him since Alejandro and I had run into him outside my apartment, and I’d figured he’d finally accepted the end of our relationship. But now he licked his lips, looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.

  “You said you’d take me out for my birthday, but you didn’t.”

  He blanched. “Yeah. I…” He shrugged. “Been busy. You know wrestling sucks up all my time, ’specially this time of year.”

  Nothing took precedence over his sport, even me, and I’d accepted that when we’d been together. I’d believed I wasn’t good enough to rank higher on his list of priorities. Thinking about it now, though, the comment rankled me. “So taking me out for my birthday was just a threat. You didn’t follow through on your word.”

  “Ain’t true. Was gonna take you out after the season.”

  “Why?” He said nothing, and I asked again, “Why take me out? It’s over between us.”

  He looked down, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his low-hanging jeans. “Think I made a mistake.” His head stayed down, but his eyes rolled up to assess my reaction. “Think we should try this again.”

  When the urge to laugh pressed up my throat, I swallowed it down. It would be cruel to laugh in his face. But my callous reaction told me one thing: I was definitely over him. “What about Nina?”

  “It ain’t serious.”

  Did Nina know that? She’d given indications they were hot and heavy. Despite all of her issues, I felt sad for her. And glad I no longer had to deal with his crap.

  “You know, Jay, I think you’re smarter than me.”

  His eyes bugged.

  “No, hear me out. You’re smarter because you knew our relationship was over long before I did. And you were right. We’re just not compatible.”

  “Yeah, we are. You and me…we good together. We’re the best athletes at this school.”

  “You’re an amazing athlete,” I agreed. “I know you’ll kill it at NCAAs. And I’m grateful you pushed me so hard in the weight room. I’ll be thinking of you at camp—you’re a big reason I got invited.” I searched for the right words. “But we don’t have much in common beyond that. One day I’ll stop volleyball, and you’ll stop wrestling, and then where’ll we be?”

  He frowned, but looked at the floor.

  “You said I didn’t love you.” That still stung. “I did love you, but I didn’t know how to show it. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t let you in. I’ve learned a lot about myself this year, and you were right. I wasn’t letting you into my heart. I felt too damaged to show you the real me.”

  He let out a long sigh as his gaze swept over me. “Girl, you’re a bomb-ass trap queen, dontchu know that?”

  I grinned. I would miss his unique way with words. “Thanks.” I guess. “You’re bomb-ass, too. We’re just not made to be together.” My smile faded. “It’s still hard for me to be vulnerable—to let others in—but I’m trying.”

  His eyes rolled. “With him?”

  I paused, then nodded.

  “You’re always with him.” He grunted. “Or some stupid TV show’s on ’bout him being with you. Thought you and him was just friends.”

  “Alejandro and I are together now.”

  I sniffed spicy cologne a moment before Alejandro wrapped his arm around my waist. “We are,” he said. It figured he’d come to check on me. I leaned into his solid body.

  Jaylon eyeballed him, then China.

  “You doing okay?” Alejandro asked me.

  “Yes. Just saying goodbye to Jaylon.”

  His hand pressed into my hip, and he kissed the top of my head. “I’ll stop interfering, then.”

  When he stepped away, his warmth went with him, and I wanted to be back by his side. He and China went and stood about twenty feet away.

  I returned my focus to Jaylon. “I wish you the best. Good luck with everything.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all I got.” I held my hands out to the side. “Do you want to wish me good luck, too?”

  After a moment, he nodded.

  “Maybe we’ll both be in the Olympics one day.”

  His mouth curled into a smile. “Ain’t no maybe about it.”

  “Just promise me one thing,” I said.

  His eyebrow arched in a question.

  “Don’t ever, ever, ever sing karaoke again.”

  He shook his head. “That fucker, Dane.”

  I smiled. “Goodbye, Jaylon.”

  He studied me for a long while, his eyes sad. “Can I hug you?”

  I looked over my shoulder, then back at him. “Better not. Secret Service might take you down.�
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  “I’d like to see them try.” But he nodded. “Bye, Mads.”

  I watched him walk off, feeling a twinge of my own sadness mixed in with relief. Now I knew what closure felt like.

  Alejandro examined me as I approached. “How are you?”

  “Really great.” And this time, I meant it.

  “Good. I won’t have to teach that wrestler a lesson.” He flexed his fist, and recoiled when I laughed. “You don’t think I could take him down?”

  “I’ll do it for you,” China chimed in with a wicked smile.

  I blinked up at Alejandro. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to. You’re very determined.”

  My response seemed to placate him. “The match is almost over. Want to say goodbye to Lucy and head out?”

  I nodded, feeling giddy.

  He gestured to my paper cup as we returned to our seats. “I’m thirsty—can I have some?”

  I gave it to him, and he stopped short after a sip. “Root beer?” With a moan, he closed his eyes. “My favorite.”

  “Mine too. But I’ve never seen you drink it.”

  “My family gave up soft drinks when Matty got diagnosed. I used to sneak a root beer now and then, though.”

  “You rebel.” I nudged his shoulder.

  Five minutes later we’d settled in the back seat of the SUV. It was a mild night, and High Street teemed with college students emerging from their winter hibernation. “Where’re we going?” I asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Passing street lights gleamed in his dark eyes.

  I pouted until his hand sneaked behind my neck, stroked under my collar, and shot tingles down my back. I inhaled. “Can we celebrate our anniversary every month?”

  His low laugh multiplied the tingles. “Whatever you like, Arroyos.”

  The Spanish word for Brooks sounded so sexy with the double r rolling off his lips.

  I grabbed his suit jacket and tugged him into me. He responded with a warm kiss, molding his mouth to mine. I unbuttoned the top of his shirt and inched my hand inside. His mouth stilled for a second, then he deepened the kiss, which I took as permission to smooth my hand down the naked grooves of his chest. The faint beat of his heart revved up under my touch.