Game Day Box Set: A College Football Romance

by Lily Cahill

  I nearly stumble back against the truth. It was uncalled for. And more than that, more than stooping to calling a teammate a bitch just because I want her stunt, is the lashing rage that boiled through me. Darkness, like what my sister succumbed to. It’s there, hiding in me, ready to swallow me whole if I let it.

  I stutter an apology, and Coach calls a quick end to practice. I’m left sore—emotionally and physically—as I trudge home. Even though we’re headed the same way, I walk quickly to stay ahead of Jess all the way back to the Kappa house.

  There’s a house dinner tonight that I probably need to shower and dress for, but I can only manage to fling myself onto my bed and cover my head with a pillow. But Lou is right there, and she clicks her laptop shut before I can pull the covers up.

  “A package came for you,” she says, nodding toward a silver-papered box on my desk. “Maybe it’s some good liquor to get you out of whatever this funk is.”

  I eye Lou, wanting more than anything to be left alone or alternatively have her tumble onto my bed and force me to watch romantic comedies all night. But Lou isn’t that kind of girl.

  I drag myself out of bed and over to the package. The paper is thick, the edges creased and pretty floral washi tape holding it closed. I slide a finger under one edge and slowly reveal a small brown box with a piece of torn notebook paper on top.

  Can I explain everything over dinner? Until then, here’s something to say I’m sorry.

  —Your Englishman, Ben

  My heart speeds up, then races faster as I pull out a tin of the soothing tea I sipped at the tea shop the other night and two beautiful, delicate tea cups.

  “Oh, your Englishman,” Lou says from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder to see her eyeing the note.

  “Are you going to call him?”

  I press my lips together, uncertainty wriggling through me.

  “He ran off mid-kiss, Lou.”

  But more than that … I would have done so much more with him if he hadn’t run off. On the porch of my sorority house, for all the damn world to see. He made me so … wanton, so absolutely unconcerned with the ramifications of our actions. And I don’t do anything—get dressed, speak, hell, even smile—without carefully considering it. But with Ben ….

  I shake my head and glance at Lou. “He’s not good for me.”

  Lou cocks a hip and stares. “That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to call him?”

  God, so much. He’s arrogant, unfathomable, and too sour by half. And he’s deeply intelligent, thoughtful, and too handsome for his own good. Or mine.

  “You want my opinion?”

  I smile weakly at Lou, but it makes her grimace.

  “Don’t with that. Don’t smile if you don’t want to. You think I don’t know why you do that? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman trying to get hers?” Lou throws up her hands. “A black woman trying to get hers when every damn thing we do is judged?”

  The smile slips off my face, and my shoulders relax. Am I that transparent? But what Lou said pricks at me. She’s not wrong. But I just don’t know if I have the brash confidence that she does. As far as I know, she doesn’t have darkness in her family that she’s trying every day to fight off.

  Lou drops a hand on my shoulder. “Feel better?” When I nod, she flashes me a smile—a real one. “Look, you think he’s bad for you, but there’s only one way to find out. I’ve seen you two together, and I think you need to chase this … this possibility, and see where it goes.”

  Lou presses my phone into my hands. “Plus, I want to see Good Girl Nara give in to your naughty side for once.”

  I glance at her once, my cheeks going hot, then dial Ben’s number.

  Chapter Eight

  Nara

  A WONDERFULLY COOL BREEZE HAD swirled through campus earlier in the day, so I dig at the back of my closet for warmer clothes. Some girls—especially some of my sorority sisters—would scoff at wearing jeans on a first date, but Ben sees me in tiny skirts all the time. Jeans will be a nice change.

  Lou quirks an eyebrow as I turn side to side.

  “It doesn’t really scream ‘first date,’” she offers. Lou is wearing a body-skimming gray dress with geometric cut-outs at the shoulders and back. She is the queen of rocking killer looks for first dates. “But, I guess it’ll be hot when he peels those jeans off you.”

  “Lou!” But the image of Ben’s hands on my ass, on my legs …. Something curls up tight deep inside me, something begging to be released. “We’re just getting dinner.”

  “Uh-huh. Be bad for once, Nara. It can be so much fun.”

  I smooth hands down my butter yellow silk blouse and the thighs of my dark skinnies. With some dark gray suede booties and a dove gray jacket, I’m happy with the look. I slick on some deep berry lipstick and touch my hair one last time. I’d been tempted to wear it natural, but it’s been years since I’ve worn it anything other than straight and sleek.

  My eyes are on my reflection in the mirror, but my mind is on Lou’s words. Be bad. If the number of crazy hot dreams I’ve had about Ben the last few nights are any indication, my Inner Nara definitely wants me to do very bad things with Ben. I’m just not sure I can go through with all the fantasies running through my head.

  “Nara!” A girl’s voice yells from the bottom of the staircase. “Ben’s here!” I share a final look with Lou, then head out to meet Ben.

  The wide staircase turns a corner, and I find myself staring not just at Haley—the girl who called me—but Jess too. Haley laughs nervously, then skitters away, leaving me facing Jess. I look past her, beyond the large, couch-filled common room toward the foyer where I can just spot Ben waiting for me. Honestly, I don’t have anything more to say to Jess. Do I feel bad for calling her a bitch in practice? Yeah, I do. But she’s swiped at me for three years now, and I just don’t want to deal with her anymore.

  “You must really want this basket toss,” Jess says, her eyes heavily lidded. “It’s kind of desperate, honestly.”

  I let my gaze rest on Jess for a long moment, then step past her. “Not everything is about you, Jess.”

  She snorts with incredulity. “So you don’t want a chance to show me up in front of Coach? Yeah, right.”

  I just want to leave Jess behind and go to Ben, but I stop. “I do want that stunt, Jess. I think I’d be better at it than you. But if you want to go back on your bet, I’m not going to stop you. After all, I think I proved my point by getting this date with Ben anyway.”

  Jess’ green eyes go wide and her lips compress, but I leave her behind, seething. Jess has dogged my steps since the moment I made it onto the squad. And it only got worse after I rushed Kappa my freshman year. I’ve never known what she has against me, but she reminds me a lot of Yaya before she cracked: she always has to have an enemy. Right now, though, I don’t really care. In the foyer, Ben eyes Jess for a second before his gaze snaps back to me.

  “That woman hates me,” he says quietly as I stop before him.

  A smile spreads across my lips. “She hates everybody. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Ben offers his arm, and I take it without a backward glance at Jess.

  It feels so natural, my hand resting against his arm, our bodies close together. Overhead, the brilliant yellows and reds of turning leaves shiver against the oaks and aspens. I smile up at the twilight-pink sky and sigh deeply. The air is crisp, but a hint of Ben’s clean-smelling soap whispers under my nose.

  He squeezes my arm, pulling my focus back to him.

  “You look amazing, Nara.”

  I bite back a grin. Ben doesn’t look so bad either. Unlike his teammates, Ben never dresses down. Even his workout gear has a whiff of poshness about it. Now, he’s wearing slim-cut gray trousers that make me want to take a master’s course in Ass Appreciation. His navy and white checked shirt is tucked in but not fussy, and he’s wearing a solid green tie. I’ve never dated a guy who wore a tie on a date.<
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  Eyes still ahead, Ben says, “I want to apologize for my behavior the other night.” He clears his throat. “There are things that happened to me, things that are hard for me to talk about, and—”

  I’ve wanted this explanation. I deserve it. But right now, what I deserve more is to be treated to a lovely dinner with a devilishly handsome man.

  “Ben,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s plenty of time to explain. Are you sorry you left me on that porch?”

  “More than anything,” he says with a groan.

  I squeeze his arm. “Then let’s leave it at that tonight. Speaking of, where are you taking me? I’ve been going to that little coffee shop to study lately. And that tea you sent me is so perfect.”

  One corner of Ben’s mouth lifts as he glances down at me. I’ve never done well with silence; it always makes me afraid something is wrong. But with Ben … his silence seems to be filled with contentment. I take a breath and looked around.

  Ben is leading me through campus, down tree-lined paths and past sandstone buildings with their windows glowing yellow. It’s wonderfully quiet, and the hint of chill makes me cuddle in to Ben’s strong arm. He nods at one of the buildings and then leads me up the steps. It’s the international building, a beautiful structure with a soaring bell tower. I’ve never attended a class here, but I know it’s where a lot of language classes are held and international studies majors congregate.

  “Is this our date? Going to class?”

  “Just wait,” Ben promises.

  He pulls the door open for me and ushers me through. The building is silent, and my heeled booties click on the tile floors. Overhead, colorful flags hang from the tall ceilings representing every nationality of student who’s attended MSU in its nearly hundred-and-fifty-year history. Ben nods down the hushed corridor and leads me deeper into the beautiful old building.

  “My first week here, I was wandering the building after meeting with an advisor,” Ben says as we walk. He stops at a nondescript door and tugs it open. Inside, dimly lit, narrow stairs climb straight up. He takes my hand, pulls out a little flashlight, and starts up the stairs. “I found this place, and it’s become something of my secret. There’s something up here I think you’d like to see.”

  The stairs climb up at least three stories, tight turns leading to a never-ending progression of landings. Suddenly, the stairs open into the middle of a large, square room. It’s circled in narrow, rectangular windows that bathe the space in the last glow of the setting sun. And everywhere else, stacked on tall shelves between each window, are books. My fingers brush against the spines on the shelf nearest me. They’re leather and cloth, worn with time and cracked down their bindings. I breathe in deep, and the warm, woody smell of them swirls around me.

  Ben slides a long finger down the spine of one big, leather book. I can feel him behind me, his body seeping warmth into my back. “I think the books were stored up here when the building’s reading room was redone and just never got reshelved.” His voice is quiet, like this is a library—if a little-used one.

  “Where are we?” My eyes are still on the shelf, trying to make out the faded titles.

  With soft fingers, Ben tilts my chin up. The place where he touches me blazes suddenly, a spreading warmth that I feel all the way down to my core. Such a small point of contact, but I feel like I’m suddenly lit from within. All those secret fantasies come pouring out of my mind and suffuse my body. The things I want to do with him, the things my body desires.

  “Look up,” he says, his voice quiet and deep at my ear.

  I crane my neck up and can just see a glint of metal off the enormous old bell still hanging from the rafters. It hits me: the bell tower.

  Ben clears his throat, and I turn back to him. There is color in his cheeks, and his lips are screwed to one side. His beautiful blue eyes shift to a corner of the room and then he shoves his hands in his pockets. I follow his gaze and nearly gasp.

  He’s set up an indoor picnic, complete with candles, a bottle of wine, and a plaid blanket spread out on the wood floor. My heart flips over in my chest and I stifle a gasp. He did all this for me? Fingers shaking slightly, I glide my palms up his strong, lean arms then settle one hand against his cheek, just a hint of stubble rough against my skin. His eyes are open, seeking, warm as a summer sky.

  “Ben, you are amazing.”

  Energy buzzes through my fingers where I touch Ben. It pulses down my arm, and sizzles in my core. I stare up at Ben—at his intelligent eyes, at the suddenly-bashful smile tugging at his lips.

  “You like it?”

  “Ben, I love it. It’s …,” I shake my head. He’s put so much thought into this secluded picnic, so much work. For me. My heart twists and my breath catches and my desire roars like a bonfire within me.

  How has everyone misjudged this man so badly? How have they not seen what I see? “It’s …,” I start again, trying to put into words what I’m feeling in the moment.

  I never get a chance to speak. Ben sweeps me up into his magnificent arms and dips his mouth to mine. His kiss sears my skin, it sets the sizzling in my core to blazing heat. God, his lips are a wonder—strong and soft at the same time, bold yet giving. I part my lips to him and deepen our kiss.

  Our bodies press together, chests, torsos, legs align. I feel his dick shift and harden in his pants, and the heat between my thighs flares hot at the promise of his cock hard against my skin. I nearly groan with the need to feel him—all of him—sliding and thrusting against me.

  But then he pulls back, and it takes everything in me not to yank him closer again. His pupils are blown wide and his breath is ragged. He rakes a hand through his hair and clears his throat.

  “I’m sorry. Jesus, I didn’t mean to just start snogging you. I’m not that kind of bloke. Let’s … eat and talk. Let me apologize to you.”

  But I’ve opened this thing inside of me, and it—I—won’t be sated so easily. I walk my fingers up the hard plane of Ben’s chest and hook one fingertip under his chin. “Maybe I want to be snogged.”

  His eyebrows pull together and he nearly whines, like he’s fighting back his desire. But I don’t want him to fight it. I want him to give in like I have. This isn’t about anyone else. This is about me and him; this is about what will make us feel amazing.

  “Ben,” I say, my voice low. “I spend my whole life being everyone else’s idea of perfect. I’m so damn good all the time. But right now … what I want ….” I slide my hand back down his chest and dip dangerously, wondrously close to his bulging cock. “Be bad with me.”

  He breaks apart, shatters against me. Gives in. His arms fold around me, his lips crash against mine. “Nara,” Ben whispers, his lips still pressed to mine. His voice crackles deep, drives my desire higher.

  His hands thread into my hair and push it away from my shoulder. With one finger, he tugs aside my jacket and kisses the crook of my neck. His lips are hot, his tongue flicking along the line of my neck and leaving shivers in its wake. He nips at my ear, his breath fluttering against the sensitive skin of my lobe.

  “Nara,” he says again, and my name in his mouth is full of a promise. “I need you,” he pants.

  Without warning, I jump into his arms. His capable hands clamp my ass and holds me firm as I wrap my legs around his strong torso. I dive into a fevered kiss, not holding back any of the desire that nearly consumes me.

  Ben strides across the space until I can just see the slight glow of candlelight around us. With a little groan against my mouth, Ben eases us down to the blanket, his hips still between my thighs.

  Moving just slightly, he presses his hardened cock against the heat of my slit, and I throw my head back with a moan. My body arches with the sensation, and Ben closes the distance between us. His warm mouth dips to my chest, licking and sucking his way along the scooped edge of my blouse. A shuddering breath rips through me, demanding more from him, so much more.

  Then his hands are roving up my back, tugging open th
e buttons at the back of my blouse one by one. I lift onto my elbows as he slips the blouse from my shoulders. It hangs against the small upturn of my breasts, silky smooth. My nipples are peaked under the fabric, and Ben pauses to suck at one though the fabric for a moment.

  With shaking fingers, I let the blouse fall away from my breasts, nearly naked to Ben. My bra is sheer and black, and my dark nipples strain against the filmy fabric. Ben groans with desire and palms one breast. I arch against his hand, desperate for more. He kneels between my thighs, and I fall onto my back, my face flushed with desire. The way he leans back to look at me makes me feel like a goddess, and I writhe with pleasure to be gazed upon like this.

  Ben licks his lips, and his pupils are blown wide. God, he’s gorgeous. I can’t stand this, not touching, only looking. I reach for his tie and drag him closer until we’re crashing together. His blazing kiss leaves my body pulsing, my pussy soaking. All I can think is that I need him out of those clothes. I need him in me.

  Working quickly, I grab his tie and tug it loose. The thick material slides around his neck and pools against my naked stomach. Ben blinks at it, then a wicked grin curls at his lips. Slowly, he drags the tie up the plane of my stomach, then against my hardened nipples. It slips up my neck, against my cheek. He raises his eyebrows in a silent question, and I instantly know the meaning. I nod and let him drag the tie over my eyes.

  It’s only for a moment, but without seeing, my other senses take over—every ragged breath I take, the snapping clean of his soap mingles with the smell of candle wax. And his touch. Oh God, his touch. His fingers drag down my jaw, whisper against the hollow of my throat, then circle my breasts. I bite my lip and arch into his touch. How much more can I stand before I rip his trousers off? I ache for him, to touch me, suck me, fuck me.

  Ben pulls the tie away from my eyes and ravishes me with a deep, lingering kiss. One of his hands wriggles between my back and the soft blanket, and I feel the clasp of my bra pop open. The bra falls away, and then he dips his head toward my breasts. Warmth hums over one taut nipple, his fingers pinch gently, then his deliciously hot mouth covers me. I writhe with the sensation, and it just makes Ben suck at me harder, his teeth grazing me, his tongue lapping at me.