Deep in the Pocket: A Football Romance (Stone Creek University Book 2)

by Lainey Davis

  I start wiping my face and breathing rapidly. "I shouldn't have dumped all that on you. I'm sorry. Now you must think I'm such a Debbie Downer."

  He shakes his head. "Hey, I made you tell me. That shit's rough, Serena. What happened to you then? I mean…you're an orphan."

  "My dad's brother took me in. He lived closest and I didn't have to change schools. He says I always have a place there to come back to, but I try not to. I mean…it's better if I'm at school. Working."

  "So how'd you get the Stone Creek football internship?" Talon asks, still rubbing my knee. His hand feels reassuring, friendly. I like it.

  "Oh," I say. "Well. Coach Burns actually knew my dad pretty well. I mean, some of the players at my high school went on to play here. Anyway, Coach wrote to me after my dad died and asked if he could ever do anything to let him know." I shrug. "I don't know why I asked him if I could be up in the booth."

  The friendly hand on my knee seems different now, searching. I feel the tip of his finger sliding along the seam of my jeans, and I like how my body is responding. Heat seeps from his hand through the fabric, warming my leg. My breath catches, and he keeps stroking my thigh. He says, "Do what you know, right?"

  An eternity passes and I'm not sure what to do. What I want to do is run my own hand along his chest, but instead I clutch the stats assignment sheet to my chest and close my eyes as Talon's finger creeps further up my thigh. "Serena," his voice is husky, but then abruptly changes. "Look, I have to go work out now. What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

  He pulls his hand back down to my knee and my eyes snap open. "Tomorrow?" God, I feel like some sort of groupie. I need to pull myself together and regain control of this situation. Now that I've spilled my guts to Talon Kelly, I can't just casually have hot, steaming sex with him. For some reason, even though he could have any woman in a 50-mile radius, he seems interested in me, but I know how guys like him work. Once and done. He doesn't even talk to girls after he sleeps with them. I know this because I made the mistake of pulling up his fan page on Facebook and reading the many, many comments from women who'd been "Clawed."

  "Tomorrow," he repeats. "We still haven't picked a topic for our project. I want to get this done before spring break so it's not hanging over my head before the Green and Gray game."

  My mouth drops a little at this. "Talon, I had no idea you actually cared about this report."

  It's his turn to look insulted. "I know I'm just supposed to be a dumb jock, Serena, but I'm really good at math, I need to keep my grades up to continue being a jock, and after spring break I want to focus fully on my rehab so I can play in the Green and Gray game."

  "I'm sorry, Talon. I shouldn't have assumed you weren't…well, I shouldn't have assumed anything about you. I don't even know you." I start to gather up my stuff to leave.

  "You know me a little bit," he says. He stands up and hops around the chair toward the hall. "You know me more than most women, actually." He winks, and whispers, "and you're going to know me a whole lot better." Talon hobbles toward the weight room as I sigh and head toward the exit. He shouts toward me, "I'll text you about tomorrow."

  I watch him limp to the weight room and realize he must have actually kept the paper where I wrote down my contact information. "Wow," I whisper. "Talon Kelly is going to text me."

  Chapter Nine

  I have a history exam in the morning, and when I turn my phone back on at lunchtime, I see a series of texts from an unknown number. I realize I have butterflies in my stomach, because I know they're from Talon. What am I even doing, I think, warning myself not to get attached. Talon Kelly is a playboy. Do not get attached here.

  First message: No practice or film OR PT tonight. Can u meet about report?

  An hour later, there was another message: I promise to wear a shirt

  And, just a few minutes ago: R U avoiding the Claw?

  I smile, glad I've had my phone off for a few hours. I'm surprised by the thrill I feel at Talon's impatience. Before I decide about tonight: R U going to keep referring to yourself in the third person?

  Less than a minute later, my phone buzzes. The Claw makes no promises! My place at 7?

  Will there be nachos?

  Always, Serena. Better bring spare pants.

  "What are you smiling about?" Alissa walks in the door and I instinctively snap my phone against my chest.

  "Nothing, just a text."

  She smiles. "I know that look. You're texting a guy. Oooh is it Talon?"

  I flush and she laughs. "We're going to get together tonight to study. We have our report…"

  "Yeah, sure. Study. Listen, you know what he's like, right? Like, you know he doesn't do relationships or anything?" She grabs some food out of the fridge and sits with me at the table.

  "I know, Lis. I know all about the Claw. And before you ask, yes. I read the comments on his fan page."

  She takes a bite of her sandwich and swallows, saying, "Not that I don't think you should do this. As you'll recall from our margarita fiasco, I, too have lusted after an Otter football god. And like I said, it was fabulous."

  We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes before I ask, "Do you think I should tell him? That it's my first time, I mean?" I've been agonizing over this decision, because guys like Talon don't do relationships…and I don't think he'll sleep with me if he knows it's my first time.

  "I wouldn't," she says. "You always remember your first time. Too much weight attached, you know? He won't want to be somebody's first."

  I confess that I'm worried he'll be able to tell, both because of my hopeless ignorance of what to do and, "won't there be, like, blood?"

  She laughs. "This isn't Downton Abbey, Serena. You've used tampons for years. More likely, it'll hurt. Talon is a huge dude. He's got to have a pretty big claw…"

  We joke some more about Talon's unfortunate nickname, and I try to focus on my homework before I head over to his apartment. But my mind is all over the place. Talon asked about my background. He knows my whole story. At minimum, we are friends now, so this doesn't fit his MO. I'm not some adoring fangirl waiting outside the locker room.

  And do I even want to take things to another level with this guy? What happened to focusing on my stats elective and leveraging this into my graduate school application? Here I am distracted by some guy with a hot body, sick of being SCU's oldest virgin.

  But he gave up his bed for you, right after he'd had knee surgery, a small voice reminds me. I've seen a softer side of Talon Kelly, and I'm worried that I'm already expecting more from him than he'd be interested in giving.

  "Why the hell is sex so complicated?" I shout to Alissa in the living room.

  She's watching reality television while she finishes making flash cards. She shouts, "It doesn't need to be, Serena! Just go bang some dude from the baseball team if it's too weird with Talon. You don't want anything to do with football guys, anyway, right?"

  I bite my bottom lip as I shove a spare outfit into my backpack with my stats stuff. She's right about that. I know all about that high stakes world of football. Late nights at practice. Long road trips. The pressure to win. I saw that all eat away at my dad for years. When he was admitted to the hospital, his big worry was not leaving a practice plan for his assistant coaches to follow with the team.

  Maybe Alissa is right. I could go to any frat party and find some guy to sleep with and get it over with. But some guy wouldn't do those amazing things to my nipples…

  "Well," I tell Alissa as I check myself over in the full-length hall mirror. "Here goes nothing." I'm wearing my usual: jeans, sneakers, SCU shirt. I have my hair in two braids underneath my green beanie. By the time I zip into my puffy coat, I look ready to root for the Otters at a football game.

  Alissa rolls her eyes at me. "Please tell me you at least wore nice underwear," she says, putting a rubber band around her stack of flash cards. I stick my tongue out at her and head for Talon's apartment.

  His roommate CJ opens the do
or when I knock. He looks like he's about ready to step out, but he eyes me and turns on the charm. "Well, how can I help you this evening?"

  "I'm here to see Talon," I say. "We have stats together."

  CJ looks surprised. "Talon invited you up here?" He opens the door wider and I step into the hallway of their apartment. "Yo, Claw," he shouts. "There's a chick here to see you."

  I start to take off my coat--I see a coat tree in the corner--and ask, "Is it so weird for Talon to have a girl over?"

  CJ laughs. "We have a rule about that. We never bring them back here." I remind him that Alissa and I were here a few weeks ago.

  "Oh shit! You're the nacho cheese girl!" He laughs and I flush, but smile. "That was an exception."

  Talon comes out of the bedroom and I can tell he's just showered. His curls are damp and he smells fresh and clean. He's wearing jeans for once and I catch myself staring at the way they hug his ass. I shake my head as he says, "Hey, Serena. You remember Smith. Smith, this is the chick I was telling you--remember? From the stats booth?"

  He perks up at this and starts quizzing me, smiling when I can rattle off information about all the guys on the team. A few minutes later, Talon cocks an eyebrow at his roommate and CJ slaps him on the back. "Later, bro. Adventure awaits. Good to see you again, Nacho."

  As he leaves the apartment, I set my backpack on the dining room table. "Am I going to be 'Nacho' forever now?"

  Talon grins and sits down.

  Chapter Ten

  Talon actually pulls out a notebook. He slides a huge dish of nachos toward me and starts eating them as he explains, "I was thinking. You keep insisting you want to do biostatistics. I want to obviously do sports. What if there was a way we could both get what we want?"

  "I'm listening." I hesitantly pick up the chip with the least melted cheese on it.

  "First, you know you can't just report on the shit that Professor Jacobs studies, right?"

  I flush and feel my shoulders tense. "I suppose you're right."

  He slides a printout toward me. "I looked him up. He studies hospital-based infections. I totally get why you want to study that in grad school--because of what happened to your dad, right?"

  I look into his eyes, feeling tears well up in my own. I can only nod. He keeps talking. "I mean, you want to come back from that whole incident in his office…you can't just do your semester report on just the stuff he does. That won't impress him, it'll skeeve him out."

  "All right, all right, Talon. I get it." I really want him to stop talking about this. It's humiliating to remember what happened in office hours, and it's humiliating that Talon was able to see through what I wasn't conscious of. Ugh! What kind of freak crosses the line from fan girl into starstruck kiss up? "So what's your idea for our topic?"

  When Talon smiles, his whole face lights up. His grin is mesmerizing, so I'm staring right into his eyes when he says, "We can do something about ACL repair and recovery. Something that interests me, obviously, and it's still related to biology and health outcomes, which lets you suck up to the professor."

  I start to nod my head. "That's actually a really good plan." I reach for the nachos. "I like it!"

  Talon pumps his fist. "Yeah? Awesome! I even did some preliminary googling to get us started. You will be excited to learn that female soccer players have more ACL tears than football players." As he describes his research so far, I find that I really like talking about this with him. Within a half hour, we have a plan for dividing the research and a loose timeline for our report and presentation. "I can bring in my MRI scans for visual aides," Talon jokes as I start to pack up my things.

  I laugh and say, "I owe you an apology I think. You're a really good research partner, Talon." He smiles, and I start to walk toward the coat rack for my things.

  He reaches for my arm, his fingers grazing my wrist. I stop, and he says, "It's still early. You want to have a beer with me? We can watch Survivor."

  Is this turning into a date? I swallow and nod my head. "Sure. I'd like that."

  He gets up from the table and I notice he's not wearing his knee brace. When I ask about it, he lights up. "Things are going so great in PT. They told me I only need the brace now when I'll be walking a long way or working out. I mean, you can see I'm still limping…"

  "That's amazing," I say, taking the cold bottle of Sam Adams from him. "You only had your surgery what? Like two weeks ago?" I sit on the opposite end of the couch from him, but he spreads out until his leg nearly touches mine. He drapes his arm casually over the back of the sofa, and I feel the tingle of anticipation, unsure where we stand. I can't tell if I'm entering Talon's friend zone or if tonight might finally be the night I let go of my virginity.

  Talon props his injured leg up on the coffee table and pats his thigh. "The trainers promised to take good care of me, and it's working out. I'm pretty set on playing full contact again by summer training."

  The show starts and we watch the credits, showing the intense faces of the contestants in the physical challenges. I look into his eyes without hesitating and say, "You work harder than all these folks, Talon. I saw you the other day at PT." He smiles. "You're really driven. You'll make it back as a starter."

  He reaches for one of my braids and fiddles with the end, running his fingers along the smooth bottom beneath the hair tie. "What are the odds of that, Serena? Tell me the statistics." His face is serious now, and I'm not sure whether he really wants to know.

  "You must have googled it," I say, my voice soft. I can see Talon is really vulnerable about this, about the idea that his career might be over. Before he went down against Kentucky, he was highly assumed to be an early NFL draft pick. "Quarterbacks have a really high rate of return after an ACL tear--"

  He slides closer to me on the couch, his arm around my shoulder now, fingers rubbing my arm. "I love that you know that," he says in a husky voice. I open my mouth to say something else, but he leans in for a kiss.

  He left hand comes around to gently stroke my cheek as his lips press into mine. I taste the hoppy flavor of his beer and that uniquely-Talon essence as his tongue slides into my mouth. It feels so good to be in his arms, to be making out with a guy, but I start to realize just how much I like that it's him in my arms. My mind starts racing. I want to savor what's happening right now, even as I worry about what it all might mean tomorrow. Then Talon lets his right hand slide along my arm and onto my breast.

  Chapter Eleven

  I hear Talon moan softly as he kisses me and begins to caress my breast. I let go of all my worries and concern. There is nothing beyond this moment, in his arms, with his soft tongue gently exploring my mouth. His lips move to kiss along my jaw and I feel the tickle of his facial hair stubble coming in.

  The rasping hair against the sensitive skin of my neck raises goosebumps on my skin and he pulls back, smiling, tracing along my collarbone with his finger. "Come here," he says, sitting back onto the couch. He tugs my hand and pulls me onto his lap, so I'm straddling him, careful as I swing my leg above his injured knee.

  Once I've got my legs around his waist, I can feel his magnificent body pressed against mine. It's every bit as wonderful as I'd imagined. Talon feels so powerful compared to my soft curves. I start running my hands along his chest, leaning in to kiss him again, finally allowing myself to bury my fingers into his soft curls. "God, you feel good," I say, and then lose my nerve.

  I pull back and bite my lip, feeling self-conscious. I don't want him to know how inexperienced I am, and I'm worried that my frenzied, hungry explorations seem childish to him somehow. He strokes my cheek and says, "What is it?"

  When I don’t answer right away, he pulls me close, kissing me again. He presses his forehead against mine as his hands gently rub the skin on my arms. I say, "I don't know what makes you feel good--I mean I don't know what you like."

  He smiles. "I like this," he says, pulling my hands back to his chest where they had been as he kisses me again. "I really like these," he whispers
, cupping my breasts with both hands. I look down and I can see my nipples standing taut through the material of my shirt and bra. As Talon begins to rub his thumbs along the stiff peaks I begin to groan in pleasure.

  Once again, he has found a way to connect my nipples to the aching, moist space between my legs. I feel my heart racing, the blood pounding and tingling through my body as I let my head drop back. My hands rest on Talon's shoulders as he inches my shirt up and over the swell of my chest.

  "Serena," he whispers. As he lifts my shirt higher, I realize there is nothing I want more than to feel my naked skin pressed against the smooth, hard expanse of his chest. I fumble at his waist for the hem of his shirt, and we both laugh as I rip it over his head. While his hands knead the white flesh of my breasts, I mimic what he had done to me and dip my head to his nipples. The tiny beads are firm under my tongue, and I circle the puckered nipple until I hear his breath catch.

  Talon reaches behind my shoulder blades and unclasps my white, cotton bra. As he peels away the material, throwing it across the room, he grunts with appreciation. Talon pulls my body hard against his, so my breasts are at his face level. He buries his face between them, his tongue leaving a wet trail of pleasure as he alternates adoring each throbbing teat.

  I'm growing very, very excited now. This is better than anything I've experienced yet, and we have barely done anything. As he works on my breasts, I begin tracing his ab muscles with my index finger, imagining how it will feel to lick them when (if?) we move to his bed.

  I'm totally wrapped up in the feelings he's drawing from his mouth and fingers on my breasts when Talon lowers a hand between my legs. His fingers rub my upper thighs gently through my jeans, and then I feel the pressure of his thumb against my clit. He barely touches me, but the anticipation and the effect of the fantastic things he's done to my breasts have strung me tight as a bow. The pressure on my clit sends me over the edge, and I cum--hard--on his lap. I hear myself screaming, "Oh god, shit, Talon! Fuck, yes." My hips are churning against his hand and I feel like I've shattered in his lap.