Tackled: A Sports Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  I should be happy to see him. Especially now that I know he was telling the truth, that he didn't say all of those things about me. I am happy to see him. Except that I'm annoyed by the fact that he just waltzed into the athletic center and caveman-carried me out of there.

  "I'm here because I'm taking you home."

  "I have a car," I protest, squirming in his arms. "And I don't need you to ride in on your white horse and rescue me."

  Colton doesn't put me down until we're right beside his truck. And he doesn't just set me down. He drops his hand from behind my legs and pulls me against him so that I slide right down his body before my feet touch the ground. The familiar spark of electricity, the attraction that was there before, runs straight through me.

  "Too fucking bad," he says.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You heard what I said. Too fucking bad if you don't need me to rescue you."

  I bristle, the throbbing of my palm from where I hit Dillon reminding me that I broke a guy's nose an hour ago. "I can rescue my own damn self just fine," I say firmly. "Who called you? Sable?"

  "Yeah, and she didn't know what the hell happened, but she said someone groped you, so I'm taking you out of here and then I'm going to kill whoever touched you."

  I exhale heavily. "Look, I'm fine. He tried to grope me. Or I guess he got a handful of boob. Over my shirt," I clarify. Colton's eyes go big and his nostrils flare. "Don't get all crazy. It wasn't a huge deal."

  "Some asshole grabbed your boob but it's not a big deal?" Colton asks. His face is turning red.

  "That guy," I say, sighing. "The one you got into a fight with before. Dillon Parker."

  "Dillon put his fucking hands on you?"

  Now Colton's face is a pretty impressive shade of burgundy. I'm not sure I've ever seen a human's face turn that color.

  "It sounds worse than it actually was," I try to tell him. "And… I sort of broke his nose. I think. It made a pretty loud crunching sound and I'm pretty sure that's the sound of a nose breaking. So he got a two-second handful of boob and a broken nose, which is a terrible trade-off, if you think about it. That's pretty much it. It's not as dramatic a story as you'd imagine."

  A smile tugs at the corners of Colton's lips. "You really broke his nose?"

  "There was a decent amount of blood," I admit, shrugging.

  "Did you punch him?"

  "Palm, right up to the nose. Guess my brothers' endless attempts to teach me self-defense came in handy."

  "Good girl."

  "Coach Walker saw what happened and called the police, and Dillon was arrested. I have to go in and give a formal statement. He's going to get kicked off the team. Anyway, that's the extent of the story. It's actually not all that exciting. Now I'm going to get in my car and drive to my house and go to sleep."

  "No." Colton opens the passenger side door.

  "What do you mean, no?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. "What, are you kidnapping me?"

  45

  Colton

  "If you're not going to go willingly," I say.

  She turns up her chin, her jaw set in the way it gets when she's pissed off. Or being stubborn. "I don't know where you got the idea that you could tell me what to do, Colton King."

  God, she's infuriating.

  "Stop talking and get in the truck," I demand.

  "Why?"

  "Because we have unfinished business, Cassie, that's fucking why," I say, trying to ignore the way that knot in my stomach, the one that disappeared the second I put her in my arms, suddenly returns now that I'm standing here waiting for her to either get in the truck or to tell me to fuck off.

  I genuinely don't know what she's going to do.

  "No kidding we have unfinished business," she huffs. But then she does it. She turns and slides into the front seat, her arms crossing her chest. She doesn't look at me when I get behind the wheel but when I glance over at her, she's tapping her foot on the floor of the car. It's a tiny movement, but it's there.

  She's nervous.

  I feel guilty for ordering her around, telling her no, demanding what I want from her, especially since she was just groped by someone who didn't take no for an answer.

  I get on the highway, and drive straight out of town because I don't know what the hell else to do. She doesn't speak the entire ride, doesn't even ask where we're going, and I keep my eyes straight ahead. I want her so damn badly that I can't look at her.

  As soon as I put the truck in park at the top of the lookout, I'm out of the vehicle and walking to Cassie's side. She slides out of the truck before I reach her, slamming the passenger door hard. When she turns to face me, she has her hands on her hips.

  Her hips. My eyes go straight to them and I nearly groan.

  "You sent me dildos as apologies," she says, her voice infused with anger.

  "Because you didn't fucking listen to me that night when I came to your place."

  "Because that creep – Dillon – told me… ugh, whatever, I don't want to say it again."

  "You really actually thought I'd brag to a locker room full of guys about how I fucked you?" I ask, my voice getting louder. "I don't even want another guy near you. You think I want them imagining you naked?"

  "The virgin thing…" she murmurs, her voice drifting off.

  I'm standing a respectable six inches away from her, but I can smell her. She's wearing that perfume, the one that smells like coconuts and summer, and my cock goes absolutely rigid at the scent.

  "I wasn't thinking," I explain to her, my voice softer. "That night when he was talking about wanting to nail you, I blurted it out before I hit him."

  "Why?" she asks, her eyes flashing. She looks up at me, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and all I can think about doing is pulling it between mine.

  "Because I was pissed the hell off," I say, irritated with even having to think about that again. "I didn't like him talking about my girl like that."

  "Your girl?" She doesn't ask it; she states it like she's challenging me. "The one you hated because of the thesis?"

  "You hated me because of Dillon," I growl back. "And yeah, my girl."

  "Maybe I don't want to be your girl."

  "You're so damn irritating."

  Her eyes narrow. "So are you," she blurts back, her hands on her hips again. "You're infuriating. And you're stubborn, arrogant, and hot-headed."

  "You're high-strung and uptight and way too fucking serious," I say. Somehow I'm so close to her now.

  "Yeah, then why did you bring me out here?"

  "Because training started and I should be thinking about football," I explain, exasperated, "but I can't fucking sleep, alright? I'm lying in the back of this stupid truck and all I smell is you on my damn pillows and it's making me crazy. Which means I can't fucking train because I'm so damn tired."

  "So you brought me here to lecture me on how I'm screwing up your training?"

  "Goddamn it, Cassie, stop talking." I growl the words because I'm done arguing with her, and I'm done not touching her, and I'm sure as hell done not having her in my bed.

  "Don't tell me to stop –" she starts, but I plant my lips on hers before she can finish. She melts against me like she's made to fit right here in my arms, and when my tongue finds hers there's no question that this is where I'm supposed to be.

  This girl feels like home. She feels like a place of calm, the eye in the middle of the storm. She's mine and I don't want to let her go.

  She slides her hands underneath my shirt, her palms moving across my chest, and she lets out a sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan, as she slips her hands to my back and pulls me against her.

  When I come up for air, she sucks in a deep breath. Her hand flies to her mouth, her fingers touching her swollen lips. "Colton," she says, her voice breathy.

  "Say that again."

  I missed hearing the way she says my name.

  "Colton," she repeats. She grabs a handful of my t-shirt and pulls me to her, her back agains
t the side of the truck. When my hard cock presses against her thigh, she groans.

  I pause, feeling guilty for even touching her after that asshole mauled her with his hands. She might be traumatized. I'm sure this isn't the way I'm supposed to handle something like this. "Cassie, I don't know—"

  She looks at me, her eyes flashing, like she can read my mind. "Don't you dare tell me you're feeling bad about touching me because some dickhead grabbed my boob. Seriously, if you treat me like I'm some fragile little thing for even a second, we're going to have a problem —"

  I kiss her again. I don't know how long I kiss her – minutes or hours, it doesn't matter – I don't want to stop kissing her. I want her body against mine forever.

  Then, I pause long enough to tell her what I've realized. "I need you, Cassie."

  Not I want you.

  I need you.

  She whimpers, palming my cock over my jeans. "I need you too," she says. "I need you inside me now."

  I pull up the sides of her skirt and hook my thumbs under her panties, dropping them to the ground. My hand goes between her thighs, and when I touch her, she's soaked.

  "No, Cassie," I say. I can barely think straight when my fingers are where they are like this, but I want to make her understand what I couldn't say before. "I need you. Not just like this, I mean. I fucking need you. Like, I don't want to let you go again need you."

  "I know," she whispers, "but if you don't shut up and put your cock inside me right now I'm going to come on your fingers."

  "Damn it, Cassie."

  She fumbles with the button on my jeans and yanks them over my ass. When I start to take them all the way off, she shakes her head. "Now, Colton."

  Reaching under her hips, I pick her up and pin her against the truck, guiding my cock inside her slick pussy in one swift movement. The sound she makes when I enter her is low in her throat, like a feral animal, and it ignites something in me that makes me want to fuck this girl into oblivion. She wraps her legs around me, her hands at my neck, and moans as I thrust into her. "Harder, harder," are her only demands.

  I pull her hair back as I fuck her, turning her face toward me so I can kiss the hell out of my girl. I catch her lip between my teeth and kiss her so hard, I think I taste blood, except she pants, "Don't stop," when I hesitate.

  She's tight and wet and whimpering in my ear, her breath short. This isn't what I envisioned when I thought about making up with her. I wanted to fuck her slowly, tenderly, bringing her to the edge with my tongue again and again before finally being inside her.

  This is just straight up fucking.

  "I missed this," she whispers, squeezing her muscles so tightly around my shaft that I groan out loud.

  "You missed my cock," I growl, pulling her hair harder and she leans back against the top of the truck, her hips bucking against me, and she makes that sound again.

  "I missed your cock."

  "You missed coming with me." I fuck her faster, bringing both of us closer to the edge.

  "I missed coming with you," she says. Her voice is strained.

  "You missed me coming inside you," I moan. As soon as I speak the words, I'm know I'm about to explode in her.

  She whimpers loudly. "Yes, yes, yes," she cries out. "I want to feel it, Colton. Oh God, I'm going to come."

  "Come for me, Cass," I urge her, thrusting harder. I feel myself bursting the second I speak the words, not even able to wait for her. Groaning loudly, I pump my cock into her tight pussy.

  She screams her orgasm, her hands gripping my shoulders as her muscles shudder around my cock, pulling everything from me.

  She looks at me with wide eyes, the hair around her forehead damp with sweat, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. I slide out of her, feeling her wetness on the inside of her thighs and my cock immediately twitches at the thought that I'm going to be dripping out of her.

  Screwing her did nothing to dampen my hardness. When I reach down to pull up my jeans, she stops me. "Don't," she says. "Take everything off. Please."

  "That's what you want?"

  "Take your damn clothes off, Colton," she demands. But I don't. I reach for her blouse and tear it off her like I did before in the tutoring room, buttons scattering all over.

  "That was a perfectly good shirt," she complains. She arches her back just a little, her breasts on display.

  "That asshole put his hands on that shirt."

  She giggles.

  "That's funny?" I ask.

  "No," she says. "That's what Sable and I were calling you."

  "That asshole?" I ask. "Seriously?"

  She shrugs. "I thought you had a naked girl waiting for you in your room. And that you told everyone what we did."

  "You know naked girls throw themselves at me all the time," I say. "Fact."

  She rolls her eyes. "Okay, conceited."

  "I'm a celebrity."

  "I liked you better when you weren't talking."

  "I can shut up," I say, pressing my cock against her again.

  "You should take me up into that truck bed and fuck me now."

  I rip her skirt off. Literally. I unzip it and when I tug it down her hips it doesn't immediately fall off, so I just tear the whole thing from her body.

  "You're going to have to get me new clothes if you keep tearing mine apart."

  "No." I yank my shirt off and throw it on the ground, then discard my pants.

  "No?"

  "I think I'll just keep you naked."

  46

  Cassie

  "I think I love you." Oh, holy shit, I can't believe I blurted that right out. Who says that when someone says, "I think I'll just keep you naked"? That is so not the right response.

  I stop and look at him, panic probably written all over my face, because that's exactly what I feel right now, just like I'm about to have a heart attack. Those are words you definitely can't un-say.

  He's looking at me weird. Shit, he's looking at me really weird.

  And he's not saying anything.

  I open my mouth again and then I suddenly can't stop talking. "I haven't been in love before, so I could really be wrong and I mean, maybe the horrible feeling I've had in my chest is just indigestion or stress, either is totally plausible. And the smart part of me knows that you're a player – I mean, a football player, not just a player… although there's that, too, because really, you are a celebrity, and there are going to be a lot of women throwing themselves at you – and you're too young and you're leaving next year and I'm here. And you're cocky. I mean, good God you're arrogant. And stubborn. I told myself it makes no sense, but –"

  "Shut up, Cassie," he whispers, bringing his lips down on mine. I kiss him with everything I have. "I'm in love with you."

  "You don't know that," I say. "It really is way too soon to know that and –"

  "Will you just stop talking already? I'm thinking about you and not football, for fuck's sake. I've spent a bunch of nights up here the last two weeks up here, trying to sleep without you. I can hardly eat."

  I raise my eyebrows. "Something's definitely wrong with you."

  Of course, "hardly eat" probably means a half a pizza for a snack instead of a whole one.

  "And when I sat outside your house, it –"

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa." I put my hand up. "You sat outside my house?"

  "Not in a stalker way," he defends himself. "I didn't have binoculars. You know you can see through your living room window from the street at night. It's not safe at all."

  "That sounds exactly like a stalker, you freak." I slap him on his very hard, very muscular arm.

  "I was making sure you were safe," he says, giving me a what-did-I-do-wrong look. "I mean, I did a crap job of that. If I'd have been looking out for you during the day, I could have followed you to the athletic center and – damn it, Cassie, I don't want to watch you through a window."

  "Great. It's super that you don't want to creep around outside my bedroom window."

  He pa
uses and takes a deep breath, his wide chest expanding even more. "I'm telling you that I don't think there's any other explanation for the fact that there's been a giant knot in my stomach for the past two weeks other than I'm in love with you. Plus, I want you around all the damn time. When I'm not around you, everything sucks. So I'm in love with you and that's all there is to it. You're just going to have to live with it."

  "You have such a way with words," I say, as he picks me up and carries me to the back of the truck.

  "Please," he grunts. "Your 'I love you' speech wasn't any more eloquent than mine."

  He hoists me up into the truck bed and I scoot backward across the mattress, my back on the pillows. Colton crawls over me, his face above mine, and his cock goes between my legs immediately.

  "Eloquent," I say. "Big word."

  "Learned from the best," he murmurs.

  This time, when he enters me, he takes his time. His eyes lock on mine and they never waver as he rocks slowly inside of me. I think I could stay like this forever and be happy. My heart feels like it's going to burst.

  When I finally come, after he's fucked me until I'm a puddle of mush, it's with his hands on mine, fingers interlaced, looking at him. When he comes, it's with "You're Mine" on his lips.

  * * *

  "Oh hell," Colton groans before we even open the door. "I know that voice. Brace yourself."

  Doreen's laugh is audible even through the front door, and I hear Tank's and Sable's muted voices.

  "It's about time!" Doreen calls. "There's food on the table. Breakfast for dinner!"

  There's a cornucopia of food on the table, to be precise. A stack of pancakes a mile high, mountains of eggs, bacon, and sausage, and enough pastries to open a bakery. Colton puts his hands on my hips, pulling me back against him, and whispers in my ear. "You already had sausage, didn't you?"

  "Shut up," I hiss, slapping his hand. "Your mother is right there."

  "Get in here and eat before all of this gets cold," Doreen gestures to us to join them as Tank and Sable pull out folding chairs around two card tables set up in the living room. Our kitchen table is definitely too small to host this spread. I'm half-expecting Tank's folding chair to collapse underneath him. Are folding chairs rated for football player weight or do they make special steel-reinforced ones just for them?