Rush (15 page)

I let my words sink in, watching her trying to pull out the meaning. “Are you saying you think the bar fight was a set up? Like those guys jumped you on purpose?”

“Possibly.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly, but if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Do you understand?” I’m firm in this. That’s as far as I can go, and I know she sees it on my face.

“No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you can’t tell me…”

I cut her off. “Because it’s bad shit, Priscilla, and I don’t want to tell you anything that could get you in more trouble.”

“Is it bad shit that
you’re
involved in?”

“Priscilla…” Her chin rises. I let out a breath, trying to shake the harsh tone and start over. “It’s bad shit that swirls around our football team. When you’re on a team, you’re all involved.”

A moment passes, both of us trying to read one another.

“I could help you—like you’re helping me.”

“No.”

She starts to speak but swallows her words, blanching at my definitive tone. A veil of disappointment descends over her features. I know exactly how she feels—I’ve been disappointed in myself for three years. But that’s all I can give her.

She leans back against the dresser and studies me.

“I don’t want to lose what we’ve started. I want things to keep growing. I want you…”

“But…?” she whispers.

“But, if I have to lose you to keep you safe, I will.”

“Will you ever be able to tell me?”

“Yes, but I don’t know when. It may be a while, but I promise I’ll tell you when I can.” I let out a long breath and pause. “My life is so complicated right now. I have to get that NFL contract—not just for me, for my family. They’ve given up so much, and it tears me apart having to watch my mom struggle. There have been times when we can’t even afford her prescriptions.” I blow out a breath and stare straight ahead. “I’ll likely be leaving Michigan in the spring…” My hands grip my thighs as I look up at her. “This is my life. I really don’t have anything to offer you…certainly not what you deserve.”

The disappointing reality hangs in the air between us. Her expression softens and she walks to me, standing between my legs. I slide my fingers behind her thighs as she raises her hands to the sides of my face.

“I’m sorry, Peep,” I say, kissing a palm.

She turns my face back to hers and speaks. “Whatever it is that’s looming in your background, short of you having killed or raped someone—which I know you haven’t—I accept it.”

“You can’t say that—”

“I just did.” She cuts me off. “You can’t decide for me. And you’re wrong about what you have to offer me. I’m not interested in your circumstances or what might be bad about your past or good about your future. I’m interested in you and what we have right now. I don’t need a commitment. I like who you are, and I like who I am when we’re together. I like the way you make me feel.” She smiles and a faint blush stains her cheeks. She’s so fucking sweet and sexy, and I must be crazy for trying to fight this.

“I like the way you look at me,” she whispers. “What we have right now is enough.” Her voice becomes thick as if it’s hard for her to say. “I want you so bad, and I feel like half the time you want me and half the time you wish I’d go away.”

“No. I never wish you’d go away, Priscilla. I never wish for that.” I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer. “I just need to be sure, baby. I hurt you once. I’m not going to do it again. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” I pause, blinking slowly. I give up. “If you tell me you’re okay with everything, if you’re sure…” I nod, feeling the dryness in my throat. “I won’t hold anything back.”

There it is. I may not have shared the whole truth of my circumstances, but I’ve shared the truth that I know in my heart—in my heart she’s mine and I’m hers.

Her frustrated expression begins to melt. We smile and then she laughs—the sweet, rich sound pours over me, releasing tension from my shoulders. There’s only one thing better than that sound.

I stare a long moment at her beautiful face. My cock is getting thick, demanding my attention, reminding me of the new terms of our relationship. Free-fucking-rein.

She’s standing in front of me, half-naked and stunning.

I move the hair off her collarbone and raise a finger to trace one dark nipple. “You have no idea how badly I want you, baby, but I don’t have a condom, so you can’t touch me tonight.”

“That hardly seems fair,” she whines, and I smile.

“It’s not fair.” I wrap my arms around her and fall back on the bed. She gasps as I flip her onto her back and lie beside her. “But I won’t be able to hold off if you touch me. Tonight has to be about something else.” I lower my mouth onto hers, and kiss her tenderly. She meets my tongue, nibbling on my bottom lip, and a hot shudder moves through me. I raise the hem of her tank, pushing it high, and feast on the sight of her perky tits and tight nipples. My mouth waters for the taste of her skin. I start a slow descent, kissing her jaw and throat and sucking her nipple in my mouth. She jerks at the wet contact, and I tighten my arms around her, nipping and teasing.

My fingers skim the waistband of her boxers, and I slide them down her smooth legs, my cock pulsing with need.

“God, Priscilla,” I rasp, staring at her naked body. Her athletic shape is such a turn-on—I know everything that goes into a body like this. I move back to lie beside her and kiss her mouth as I slide my middle finger deep inside of her, curving the base of my hand to rest on her clit. Her hips tilt, and I start a slow rhythm, envisioning myself sliding into her until I’m buried deep.

It’s been so long. There is just nothing better than the taste and feel of a girl’s body—not football, not golf, nothing, and I’ve never had sex with anyone that I cared for like I care for Priscilla.

I slide another finger inside of her gently, and she lets out a soft whimper, gripping my bicep. I kiss the side of her mouth and whisper. “Too much?”

“It makes me want more. I want to touch you,” she whispers, staring at me through a haze of pleasure.

“Next time, I promise. If you touch me tonight, you’ll break me. I’m afraid I’ll lose it, and my cock will be inside of you so fast… Next time.” I feel the sweat on my brow. Saying the words is even physically hard.

“It’s better to go slow.” I want her to be comfortable with me touching her. I flick my thumb over her clit, and she arches her head back. I move in another slow circle, increasing the pressure, and she moans my name.

“Like that?”

She sucks in a breath. “Yes,” she rasps, barely able to get the word out. Her face is flushed, and her long hair is fanned out around her shoulders. Her hips are moving and her body is rocking against me. Warm hands hold the side of my face and she alternates between kissing my mouth and moaning softly over my lips as my fingers respond to her rhythm. So. Fucking. Sweet.

I watch as the sensations tighten her body. I think I’ve got her—she’s right there, riding my fingers and circling her hips. Tiny muscles clamp and pulse around me, and I have to clench my stomach to keep my cock from exploding right along with her. Her mouth is open, the breath caught in her throat. Fuck yes. Satisfaction blasts through me. I drop my forehead against hers, feeling the light dampness, and listening to her breathing.

The delicate line of her throat eases, and she opens her eyes, smiles, and blinks. I pull her close and she nuzzles against my neck. “I want to do that for you, too,” she whispers. “Let me…” She sits up and kisses my mouth. “Please…”

I push her gently down with my fingertips as I shift on the bed. “I know exactly what I want,” I say, flashing her a wicked look. I move my hands, cupping her ass and easing her down, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed and kneeling between them. “Spread your legs now,” I coax, as my hands move up her inner thighs, pushing them wider.

She grips my shoulders and threads her fingers in my hair as I sink lower, pressing my mouth to the soft skin, kissing and nipping a trail to her hot sex. Her body jerks, then settles and squirms lightly against me as my tongue tastes her in slow movements. The tip of my cock is throbbing with the pressure from the hot blood building in my body. I reach into my sweats, gripping and stroking my aching skin. I’m close, so close, but I want one more thing. My hands reach for her hips, twisting her onto her stomach. I pull her to her knees in front of me and rub the underside of my cock against her, holding her hips tight. I watch her move, sliding against the hard length of me until I can’t think straight. Oh. Holy. Fuck. My breath hitches and my body explodes, spilling over the curve of her ass.

I collapse, breathing hard, hooking an arm around her and rolling us to the mattress. Her arms circle my neck and the smile on her face fills my senses. I feel spent and high as she kisses my cheek and molds her tight body to mine. We rest in each other’s arms for a long time, breathing low and savoring the new intimacy. Her feather-light touch traces small lines on my back, then she twitches and laughs when my fingers graze the soft skin at her sides, which makes me determined to do it again until she crawls up my body and kisses my mouth, sweet, slow, deep. This is a dream.

“Was Thanksgiving everything you wanted it to be?” I ask.

“Everything I wanted and more than I expected,” she says, blinking a dreamy look my way. “And you? Was it too much chaos for you at the Winslow house?”

“Are you kidding? Best Thanksgiving ever.” I kiss her forehead and something clicks in my mind. It
has
been the best Thanksgiving, watching her working in the kitchen, the constant laughing and ribbing with her family, and the feel of her fingers trailing over my shoulder anytime she got up from the table. I let out a breath and massage the small muscles in her back with my fingers.

I wish I could stop scanning the line of obstacles shifting and coming my way—our last game Saturday, the End of Season Sports Banquet, and Priscilla’s hearing, just days away. I try to tackle the thoughts and stuff them to the ground by recalling her words
. This is enough for right now
. The beautiful girl that I’ve been fantasizing about for almost a month is lying next to me, half-naked. I’m stroking her side boob with my knuckles, and she’s cleared me for a “no strings attached” future. It should be
more
than enough, but for some reason, I can’t get myself to believe it. My every experience with her seems to cut me open, to tear at my insides and break me down until the only thing I am is a man that wants her and nothing else.

Chapter Seventeen

Priscilla

“Do you want me to wait for you?” I ask Jace as I gather my things from my locker. It’s Friday, and our team has just had a morning meeting with Coach Howell to go over our strategy for tonight’s game one last time.

“You go ahead. Ian might come over this afternoon—I’m going to take a shower here so I can steam my pores. Sam said she can drop me on the way home.”

“All right. See you back at the shack.” I stick my head in my locker and pretend I’m looking for something. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend I like Ian. His no-show rate officially surpassed his show rate when he cancelled on her twice this week.

I hear her let out a long breath and I turn, surprised to see her still standing next to me. “What?” I ask, questioning the tense expression on her face.

Her lips twist. “I know I’ve already said this, but I’m sorry I talked you into going to the Rathskeller with me that night. ”

“It’s not your fault, Jace…”

“Every time we’ve gotten in trouble, it’s been because of me…” I start to object but she speaks over me. “That ‘Anything But Clothes’ party we threw at your house to celebrate the start of senior year? My idea, but you’re the one that got busted by your mom. And when we let loose that jar of crickets in the shower last year? My idea. Stealing the Christmas tree from the Sigma Phis? My idea…”

“I could have said no.”

She laughs. “You
did
say no, and then I talked you into it. That’s what bothers me most.”

“You didn’t talk me into flirting with Chewbacca or drinking or jumping into that bar fight, Jace. That’s on me, and frankly, I like all the trouble we’ve been in together. Without you, SEU would have been nothing more than field time and lecture halls. Having fun and making bad decisions is what you do in college. I should be thanking you.”

She tilts her head and scratches her neck, considering me. “Well, I am pretty awesome when it comes to bad decisions.”

“And fun,” I add. “The fun we’ve had redeems the bad decisions.” With the exception of one, but I don’t say that.

She loops her shower caddy through her arm and grabs a towel. “All right then. In honor of our senior year, I’ll ramp up the ‘bad decision’ generator.” She nods and heads to the showers.

“Play big, Texas,” I call, flipping my locker closed. The door bounces back, obstructed by a gray sports bra that’s jammed in the hinge. I yank the strap free and a stream of travel-size shampoo bottles spill over my feet. Super. I spend the next ten minutes reorganizing the junk then shut the door and head out.

Preston texted earlier to apologize for not being able to make it to our big game tonight—the football team goes into lockdown at seven p.m. the night before any of their games, which means he has to stay at the Lafayette Center campus hotel with the team tonight. I’ll see him tomorrow, though. Jace and Marcus and I are going to his game, then to the party at Carson’s house. I’m walking, tapping out a text, when I slam into a wall.

I gasp and stiffen, pulling back. “Uh, sorry…” I stammer, realizing I’ve hit someone. Three guys are standing in front of me—huge guys, and their expressions look…odd. The hallway’s completely empty, and goose bumps rise over the back of my arms.

“Priscilla?” the unfamiliar voice asks. I think he’s a football player—they all look like football players.

“Yes?” I respond, stepping back. He’s an African American guy. I’m pretty sure he’s the one Jace called “Pony Boy” in the rehab room—I recognize the slicked-back wave of his hair and the cocky, lopsided grin. He’s not much taller than me, but he’s as wide as a barrel with obscenely huge biceps. The other two guys are pale skinned, and the tallest speaks.

“I’m Darren. This is Homer, and this is Tyler,” he says, bringing a slow hand to Pony Boy’s chest and moving him gently out of my face. “We play football, and we heard about the little problem you and Rush got into. The team sent us here to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

I raise a brow. “The team sent you here?” My tone calls them out. Silence answers my suspicion. “So, Preston sent you here?”

“Well, no,” Darren says.

“The coaches?” I ask. Silence. “No, I don’t have a minute.” They’re here to bully me, and there’s nothing I hate more than a bully. I step to Darren’s left, and Tyler crowds in, blocking me. I raise my head, and the wicked, watery look in his dark stare steals my breath, like a hand gripping my neck. His eyes are almost black and his hard stare carries a remorseless kind of anger. Pony Boy has a problem that’s deeper than me.

I swallow, trying to steady my pulse. The last thing I want is to let him know he scares me. “You’re going to need to get out of my way. Now.”

“We just want you to realize the position your putting him in,” Darren says, as Tyler and I continue the stand off. “He’s too proud to tell you himself, but if you out him, things are gonna get ugly.”

If I
out
him? Is he serious?

“He could be out of the bowl game, and it could hurt his draft chances. You gotta withdraw your appeal.”

That “bad shit” that Preston talked about is right here in front of me. I can smell it.

“Are you threatening me?” I ask Darren.

He shakes his head, about to deny it, but Tyler moves fast, gripping my elbow.

“Told you she wouldn’t listen,” he says, pulling me sideways.

“Hey!” I draw my elbow back, but they crowd behind me, hustling me into a small classroom. My heart leaps into the back of my throat. This is not good. I move to the other side of the room, sliding behind a six-foot conference table.

“Your boy’s not as squeaky clean as you think,” Tyler sneers.

“Calm down,” Darren spreads his fingers and pushes them downward.

“Calm down, nothin’. We’re about to hit the Big Ten, then a bowl game. If shit starts to come out, it’ll fuck us up. Not just this season, next season, too. This bitch is going to cancel that appeal hearing.”

I’m watching them as they argue, scrambling to think of a way out. My fingers fumble with my cell phone—I’m hoping to hit one of the saved numbers, or my last call,
anything
—and a thought occurs to me. My thumb moves across the screen; I’m feeling for the indent. I’ve got to keep them talking while I’m trying to pull up the app I want.

“Why are you confronting me about this?” My thumb lands and presses. I glance down, looking for the Periscope icon, and tap the teardrop. “Why aren’t you talking to Preston?”

“You’ve got your legs wrapped so tight around his ass, he ain’t gonna listen,” Tyler barks, taking a step left, angling around the table. I move in the opposite direction, but the other two are there. I start to search the room and spy a fire alarm. Tyler follows my gaze, and he flinches.

“Hey!” he yells. “Don’t let her touch that fire alarm. That’s how she brought the cops down on the bar!” Homer moves in front of it—now both ends of the table are blocked.

“Hi, everyone,” I say, flipping my phone up and positioning Tyler’s pissed off face in the rectangle. “I’m here with Tyler and his friends.” I pan the room. “These guys play football with South Eastern State. Wave to the four—nope, a few more just joined us—eight people watching you on Periscope. I know you wouldn’t want them to see you do anything that could get you in trouble.” I walk fast with the camera pinned on Darren. “These guys just dragged me into this room—they thought they had something to talk to me about. Now that I have witnesses, I’ll ask them once more to get the hell out of my way.” Homer steps aside, trying to avoid the camera, but I stalk him.

“We were just talking,” Darren says, as I’m backing out of the room. Once I’m in the hallway, I run, feeling the pounding of my heartbeat with every hard step. I fly down the stairs, missing the last one and stumbling out the door.

Jace and five of my teammates are twenty feet ahead, walking to the parking lot. They turn and gape at my frantic appearance.

“What’s wrong?” she yells. I’m pressing my hand to my mouth, trying to catch my breath. I hand her my phone and tap the replay. Her lids slit with anger as she and my teammates watch. “Those fuckers,” she bites out.

“Did this just happen?” Sam asks, turning to the building. The door opens and the “fuckers” step out.

“That answers that question,” Syd mutters.

They stop ten paces in front of us as my teammates line up beside me. Jace marches to the trio, and I shout, trying to stop her, but it’s too late. The thing about goalkeepers is—hmmm, how do I put this nicely—they’re slightly off. When I started playing soccer as a little girl, I remember our coach unexpectedly throwing the ball at each of us—the girl who didn’t flinch got the goalkeeper jersey. That’s the qualification. Keepers have no flinch reflex.

She jabs a finger at Tyler’s nose and sneers. “You threaten my friend again and I will cut your balls off and serve them to my lizard.”

“You better get that finger out of my face,” Tyler growls, bearing down on her.

“You are a second away from getting your ass whipped, Pony Boy.”

“By who?” he smirks. “All I see are a bunch of white girls with an attitude.”

Kia drops her sports bag and pinches her caramel colored skin. “Does this look white to you?”

Minka’s ponytail whips the edge of her shoulders as she shakes her head. She’s from Columbia, and she’s usually the calm, quiet one, but not right now. “I guarantee you, I’m blacker than anyone you’ll ever see at your family reunion,” she spits out.

“And I sure as hell am not a white girl—I’m from Texas,” Jace says, bobbing her chin. She actually is a white girl, but she’s convinced that being from the Lone Star State is an ethnic distinction. I’ve seen her write in a special “Texan” box, just under Hispanic, Asian, and African American on forms.

“Wall!” He blinks at the force of Jace’s shout inches from his face. It’s the call we use to line up shoulder-to-shoulder and block penalty shots. My teammates come together, and we all step forward. Holy shit.

Thankfully, Darren shoves Tyler away from Jace. “We’re going, we’re going,” he grumbles. Sydney steps forward and tilts her head. “Walk around,” she says, snapping her fingers and pointing sideways

“Unbelievable,” Sam says, shaking her head and staring at their backs.

We disband and head to our cars, and I take Jace up on her offer to drive my Jetta, flopping in the passenger seat. I let out the breath I’ve been holding since Tyler shoved me in that room, and lean an elbow on the window. His angry voice spins in my head as if it’s on repeat.
Your boy’s not as clean as you think
. What the hell is that supposed to mean? What is it that Preston isn’t telling me, and how did I get caught up in this mess? A month ago I was cruising into the final games of my senior year—ready to bring to the field everything I’ve worked to master these last four years. A slow tear rolls down my cheek. I close my eyes and sniff.

“Are you crying?” Jace shrieks, reaching over and pinching my arm. “Stop crying!”

“Ouch!” I say, smacking her hand. “Stop that!”

“We’re bitches. We don’t cry,” she says.

I swipe the tear away with my fingertips. “Those guys told me my appeal threatens the whole football team—not just Preston.”

“That’s a lot of shit to the bull, and even if it’s not, too bad for them,” she snaps.

“I don’t think it is. If Preston testifies for me, not only will he be facing his own hearing, whoever covered up his arrest is in trouble, and there’s something else going on that no one seems to want to tell me. I’m worried he’s in trouble.” She thinks about my words, and I release another hard breath. “Maybe I should just tell him to forget it.”

“What?” Outrage fills her face. “Hell to the N-O! You are not going to sacrifice everything you’ve worked for these last four years.”

“But it’s just me, and he has this huge career ahead of him, and the team—”

“If the football team gets hurt, it’s because of something they did. And it’s not ‘just’ you,” she says, pointing a finger toward me. “You represent every female athlete that’s ever sweated her ass off for the glory of playing on a college field. Despite the fact that we’re the last ones to get upgraded equipment, we get the worst field time, and they try to kick us out of our own damn training room, we are just as important. This is what we’ve fought for since we were little girls. Think about it, Sil. You and I are as tough as it gets. If we don’t fight back when the pressure’s on, who will? It’s our house, too, Goddamn it! Our house, too.”

A chill snakes down my spine. She’s right. If we want to be just as important, we have to believe that we are—no matter who’s standing in front of us making threats. I turn and stare at her. She’s the shortest goalie in our conference, and I guarantee you she’s the only one who sets her hair in hot rollers before a game. So how did a five foot five, big-haired strawberry-blonde who speaks with a Texas twang and carries a lizard in her purse learn to be so damn tough? The image of her confronting Tyler makes me want to laugh and shudder at the same time.

“When you confront people like that, do you ever worry about getting your ass kicked?”

She shrugs. “With this mouth, it wouldn’t be the first time. Getting my ass kicked would have been just another day in junior high had it not been for my brothers—even with Sweeney and Tucker, it still happened. My brothers had my back because they love me.” She lets out a long sigh. “The same reason I have yours.”

I turn and watch her peer over the dashboard. “Did you just say something nice to me? God, what is wrong with us?”

“Yes, I just said something nice to you. Now stop crying, bitch. It makes me crazy.”

“All right, all right,” I say, sniffing. “I love you, too, bitch.”

She pulls into the lot in front of our apartment and parks my Jetta, handing me the keys. “Are you going to tell Preston?” she asks, as we’re climbing the stairs.

“Um, hell to the N-O,” I say, using her words. “And you keep your mouth shut, too.” She shoots me a defensive look as we walk in.

“What’s up, ponytails,” Marcus calls. He’s midway through a bowl of cereal and Rasputin is lounging on one of his thighs.

“Do not mess with us,” Jace says. “Priscilla got jumped by three football players after practice.”