[Love in the End Zone 01.0] Out of Bounds

by Jillian Quinn

  Following her orders, I pull my shirt over my head and throw it onto the floor. She grinds on my dick, taking my belt off in one swift motion. Once our eyes meet, I see the fire brewing behind her bright blue irises. Tori slides off me, long enough to strip me down to my boxers and remove her clothes, before resuming her position on my lap. Our lips meet, the hunger of our kisses satisfying a deep aching between us.

  She presses her bare breasts into my chest and breathes against my neck. “Bash, I want you inside me.”

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You’re not. I am fine. I haven’t felt dizzy since before my nap earlier. This is my decision. It’s not like you’re forcing me into bed with you. I want this. Don’t make me beg.”

  I smile against her lips. “I might like it if you beg.”

  She laughs and smacks a hand against my chest. “Not funny. Now, do you want me or not?”

  “More than anything,” I whisper. “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom instead of the kitchen table?”

  She hops off my lap, and I follow behind her. Stopping in the entryway of her bedroom, she leans against the wall, her arm raised above her head. My God, she looks sexy. And she’s mine. I grab her ass in my hands and part her lips with my tongue, making my way down to her neck and breasts. Her body quivers with each flick of my tongue on her nipples, the pink buds hardening as I nibble on them.

  I pull my boxers down with one hand and give myself a quick stroke. As much as I want to take my time and devour every inch of her body, I can’t think straight when Tori moans in my ear, purring against my neck.

  Leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach, I drop to my knees and spread her legs wider. Each sound of pleasure makes me so hard I am in physical agony. I try to occupy my mind with anything other than how good she tastes and how amazing she feels as I slip my fingers inside her slickness. She rocks her hips against my mouth, twisting her fingers through my hair, as the hottest orgasmic screams echo in the quiet air.

  She’s going to kill me. But it will be worth it. At this rate, I’m not sure how long I will last, but I have to fuck her. It has been too long since the last time we were together. I need this. I need her.

  I lead her by the hand toward the bed. Kissing her until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, I fall on top of her, our mouths still melded together. Positioned above her, I rub the tip of my cock against her clit, and a soft purr escapes her mouth.

  The warmth that pools between her legs sends me over the edge when I rub myself along her folds, wishing it could be like old times without any barriers between us. But I stop myself and let out an irritated grunt when I realize my condoms are in my wallet…on the floor in the living room.

  Fuck. Way to kill the mood.

  “Hold that thought,” I say, crawling off her. “I’ll be right back.”

  When I get back to her room, I’m about to hop back into bed with her when I stop myself. Curled into a ball on her side, Tori has her eyes closed, her face twisted in pain.

  I drop to the floor next to her and slip my fingers between hers. “Are you okay?”

  She doesn’t respond, even though I know she’s awake and just ignoring me. I’m so confused by the recent turn of events. Did I do something to upset her? Nothing comes to mind. Everything was perfect before I left the room.

  Trying once more to get her to talk to me, I bring her hand up to my lips and plant a kiss on her skin. She doesn’t budge an inch. It’s as if she’s dead to the world. Only a few minutes ago, she was wide awake and grinding against my mouth, as she came for me.

  “Tori, C'mon, babe.” I hover over her, my breath brushing against her cheek. “I need to know you’re okay. Open your eyes for me.”

  She stirs a bit, a soft moan escaping her lips. But it doesn’t sound like one of pleasure—more like pain. “Bash,” she says, her voice soft. “I think you need to call the doctor for me.”

  I scoot closer to the bed and tighten my grip on her hand while stroking her face with the other. “What happened after I left the room?”

  “It hurts,” she chokes out, struggling with the words.

  “What hurts? Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

  “My head,” she slurs, opening one eye for a second before she closes them once more.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, even though I know she can hear me.

  And here I thought she was doing better. Or at least that’s the impression I got. If anyone should know better, it’s me. A concussion can sneak up on you when you least expect. Everything will appear to be okay, and then the next minute, you’re hanging over the toilet, puking your guts out.

  Unhooking my fingers from hers, I come to a standing. Naked and staring down at my girl, I have no idea what to do to take away her pain. I have been through this before. Head traumas are as much a part of the sport as parties and women. I can take the pain. I can take a hit no problem. But Tori isn’t built for this. She’s fragile, always has been.

  I bend down to kiss her forehead and stroke her cheek with my hand. “I’ll be right back, babe. I’m going to call Doc real quick.”

  In a hurry, I dart into the living room and grab my phone from the pocket of my jeans. Doc answers on the second ring and promises to come right away. I’m worried about Tori. I know the ball hit her hard enough to knock her on her ass, but I had no idea it could do that much damage. I guess I’m used to playing rough.

  After I hang up with Doc, I run back into the bedroom to find Tori holding one hand over her mouth, the other over her stomach. She sits up, or at least attempts it before she sinks back into the mattress with a loud groan.

  I rush over to her side and clamp my hand around her tiny biceps.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” she mutters, her words almost inaudible.

  Helping her up from the bed, I maintain a firm grip on her arm. At first, she tries to walk, but I don’t want to leave anything to chance. So, I pick her up and take her into the bathroom. She’s still naked, her face and chest now covered in sweat. I don’t even have time to remove a washcloth from the linen closet to place on her forehead before she drops to her knees on the cold tile floor. Under different circumstances, her position would excite me. But not tonight.

  Scooting closer to the toilet, she glances up at me for a second. With beads of sweat dotting her brows and the color draining from her face, I have no doubt she’s in for a long night.

  It’s been a while since I had a night like the one Tori is about to experience as if the night before wasn’t bad enough for her. Hunched over in pain, she runs a shaky hand along the toilet seat, feeling the porcelain as she opens the lid.

  I stand behind her and gather her hair in my hands, making sure to keep it off her face. As if on cue, she empties the contents of her stomach, all while I stroke her hair and tell her things will be okay, keeping my fingers crossed that they will be.

  If someone had told me that my weekend with Tori back in my life would go this bad, I would’ve thought they were full of shit. It was a risk to ask Clay and Jessica to help me out with Tori, full well knowing she would turn me down. But, by some miracle, I’m still here, in her apartment and helping her nurse a wicked concussion. This was unexpected.

  What were the chances that our first meaningful encounter where she didn’t run away would start with Tori getting hit in the face with a football going over fifty miles per hour? And it’s all because of Clay. He over threw the ball. I couldn’t have caught it even if I had superpowers. It was a bad play and an even worse pass.

  I guess to some extent Clay helped me get Tori back. But I didn’t want it to be under duress or whatever you would call these circumstances. I fear that Tori is open to having me back in her life again just for the weekend, only because she needs me here. I hope that’s not the case.

  At least ten minutes of puking and dry heaving continue before Tori pulls a strip of toilet paper from the roll and wipes her mouth. She sits on the floor, cupping her head
in her hands. I can tell she’s embarrassed as if having me see her so vulnerable is killing her more than the concussion. I have seen her at her absolute worst. This is not it.

  I doubt she even remembers the time I went to visit her in the psychiatric hospital. She was so doped up on drugs and whatever they were feeding her that she looked and sounded nothing like herself. It’d taken a long time to see the same glimmer in her eye I once saw from her. That’s also why Jessica was so hesitant to help me out.

  She wasn’t convinced that I was good enough for Tori. I’m not even sure that I am good enough for her, so I can’t say that I blame her friend for being concerned. She has seen enough of what goes on at my house to have some doubt about me being a different person. But I want to be the man Tori needs. Or at least I will try to be what she needs. So far, she’s allowed me to show her that I have changed.

  I dampen a washcloth and drop next to her on one knee to wipe the sweat from her face. She looks awful, tired and pale and so unlike herself.

  “I can’t believe you have to see me like this,” she mutters, as she watches me dab her cheek with the cloth.

  Her words stop me for a second. I sit behind her on the tile and wrap my arms around her stomach, pulling her against my chest. It feels so good to be with Tori again and to have her back in my life. I missed her so much. For years, I have tried to drown the pain of losing her with football, girls, and parties, but Tori was always the one thing I was missing. She’s the missing piece to my puzzle.

  Chapter Ten

  Tori

  Dragging the washcloth down my bare arms and chest, Bash whispers adorable things into my ear, making me feel less self-conscious about sitting naked on the floor with him. It also helps me forget that I just puked up my dinner in front of him. Again. How many times will I repeat the same thing with Bash over the course of one weekend?

  This is humiliating, but I’m also glad Bash is here instead of Jessica. Bash just lets me do my thing without freaking out, where Jessica would have been a total spaz and tried to take me to the emergency room at least ten times by now. Plus, Bash has changed so much from what I can tell in the short amount of time we have spent together.

  The Bash I once knew would do the same things he has done for me in the last two days. I guess this side of him has always been there. I had always known Bash was a decent person deep down inside, even if he buried that part of him around others. But I didn’t want to admit that to myself after everything that had happened between us.

  The night I’d given Bash my virginity was special. He spared no expense and rolled out the red carpet. He told me he loved me that night. But I already knew he felt that way about me. It was in his actions and his words.

  Bash presses his lips to my ear and says, “Do you have a robe or something you can wear?”

  It must have hit him that we’re still naked and Doc is on his way.

  “Uh-huh,” I say, leaning my head back on his shoulder, too tired to offer any more information.

  I could sit here with Bash’s arms around me forever. But at some point, the doctor will be knocking on my door. Judging by the way Bash scans the room, his eyes landing on a pink terry cloth robe on a hook by the shower stall, it must be soon.

  “Doc will be here any minute. We need to get some clothes on. And you need to get back into bed and get some rest.”

  Using the floor to push himself up to his feet, Bash takes a second to get his bearings and then holds his hand out to me. I place my hand in his, my body still trembling. In one swift motion, Bash lifts me off the floor and into his arms, cradling me against his chest once more. He treats me as if I’m a piece of fine china. I’m sure by now everyone at Strickland University knows about how fragile I am. Or at least how breakable I used to be.

  Bash already broke me once. I don’t think he would do it again. His apologies seem sincere. If he were only after sex, he wouldn’t stay here while I vomit for the hundredth time in two days. And he wouldn’t have slept on my couch for the weekend so that he can nurse me back to health. He cares about me, loves me, even. I still can’t believe he uttered those words to me an hour ago.

  We were about to have sex, and this stupid concussion had to get in the way. That’s just my luck. Maybe it’s for the best. After waiting years, I think we can hold out a little while longer.

  By the time we get dressed, and Bash helps me back into bed, we hear a loud knock at the door. Bash rushes to answer, in jeans that hang low from his narrow hips. When the room isn’t spinning, I get a perfect view of his ass, as he struts out of the room. How is this real? I keep thinking that my concussion is a dream and that Bash will disappear as fast as he walked back into my life.

  “Hi, Victoria,” Dr. Holland says with a wave. He flashes an apprehensive smile the closer he gets to my bed, staring down at me with a concerned look on his face. “I hear you’re getting worse. Can you tell me about what’s going on? When the episodes start again are you doing any strenuous activity?”

  I glance up at Bash, a devious smile plastered on my face that mirrors his. Then, I shift my attention back to Dr. Holland, thinking over my answer.

  “I wouldn’t say I was doing anything strenuous, per say.” I give him a sheepish grin.

  “Okay.” He kneels next to my bed and sets a black medical bag on the floor. “Can you tell me what you were doing before the last incident occurred?”

  “Um…” I bite down on my bottom lip, focused on Bash. “We were about to—”

  “We were making out,” Bash interjects.

  Dr. Holland shakes his head in disapproval. “You were supposed to be taking care of Victoria, not putting the moves on her, Bash. That is not why I had asked you to stay with her.”

  Bash turns away from Doc. He knows the doctor is right.

  Hell, even I knew that what we were doing was a mistake with how I was feeling today. Even though I made it through a steamy shower with Bash and some playful make out sessions, my head was throbbing, and the room was spinning for most of it. If I'm honest with myself, I haven’t felt one hundred percent since before the football hit me.

  “I’m almost sorry that I asked you to watch over her,” Dr. Holland says to Bash. “If anyone should know better, it is you.”

  “Look, Doc, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand. Tori’s health is my number one priority.”

  They continue the back and forth banter about my condition and how Bash should have done the right thing for a few minutes before the conversation ends. Dr. Holland removes a flashlight and shines it into each of my eyes. I have no idea what he’s looking for, but he asks me to follow the light.

  “You need to get some rest, Victoria.” Dr. Holland says, his voice firm. “It’s important that you stop all activities, including reading, studying, and texting. Anything that requires thinking or moving—no matter how big or small—needs to stop until your brain has had the time to recover. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  Doc looks up at Bash. “I thought you understood this the first time, but I will ask the same of you. No activities whatsoever. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, Doc, I get it. I promise this time I will follow your orders. We won’t even kiss on the lips until Tori is feeling better.”

  Dr. Holland places his instruments back into the medical bag and comes to a standing. Hovering over me, he removes a bottle of Tylenol from his satchel and hands them to me. “Make sure you take these if you have a headache. Do not take anything with Ibuprofen in it, as it can cause bleeding and worsen your condition, and we don’t want that. If you get enough rest, you should be back on your feet in a few days. You’ll have to miss the first few days of classes. Just let me know your class schedule, and I can speak with your teachers about make up assignments and tests.”

  I missed a ton of school after I lost my shit over Bash and ended up in the loony bin for almost two months. More time away from coursework is not ideal, especially when I’m back on track to g
raduate this year. What choice do I have? At this rate, there’s no way in hell I will be able to sit through a class on Monday morning. Maybe I can send Bash in my place to take notes. Well, if he doesn’t already have another class at the same times.

  “Thanks, Doc.” I hold out my hand to shake his. “I appreciate you making all these house calls.”

  “No thanks are necessary,” he says with a smile. “I’m just doing my job, and I want to see you get better and back to class.”

  Bash slaps a hand on Dr. Holland’s back, thanking him as they leave my bedroom. He walks the doctor to the doctor, and a private conversation ensues, one that I cannot hear.

  A few minutes later, the door slams shut and Bash waltzes back into my room, looking like he just stepped off the cover of GQ or Sports Illustrated. He’s so perfect, chiseled and tanned, the perfect All American boy. And here I am, laying in bed with my sweat drenched hair and vomit breath, wondering how I ever landed the attention of Sebastian Prince. He can have any girl he wants, which is why it still amazes me that he’s still here, desperate to have me back in his life.

  Bash gets in bed with me and pulls the covers over us. He wraps his arm around my stomach, his touch going straight between my thighs. Despite the pain in my head, I still want Bash to finish what he started over dinner. I still want him inside me; our bodies tangled up in the sheets and connected as one. But the room keeps spinning as if I’m on a never-ending ride at an amusement park.

  Bash pushes my hair back and presses his lips to my ear. “You should get some sleep, Queenie.”

  “I’m not so sure if I am ready to go back to sleep. I just woke up from my last nap less than two hours ago.”

  “Don’t be stubborn. You heard what Doc said. Rest is the only thing that will heal your brain. Trust me. I have been through this many times. I thought I was invincible and that I didn’t need to sleep it off and could do whatever I wanted, and I learned the hard way.”

  “I remember the one you had while we were dating,” I say, resting my cheek on the pillow. “You threw up for at least a week straight.”