Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(59)

We study each other from across the table.

I study her, then rise out of my seat, planting a quick kiss on her lips. Sit back down and raise my hand so the waitress will see me and bring the check.

“Let’s get out of here.”

We make quick work out of paying our bill, mostly because I scared the shit out of the waitress before. She gets us cashed out quickly and we’re back in my truck within minutes.

On our way to her place, the stretch of silence between us comfortable, smiling stupidly at each other the entire drive.

When I pull up to her house, I put the car in park. Let it idle, radio playing quietly in the background, wanting to invite myself inside but not wanting to be pushy. Not after that sex talk we just had back at the restaurant.

Scarlett unbuckles.

Watches the road ahead of us, staring down the empty street, her backpack still in my back seat.

Finally, a car drives by slowly, and we both watch it pass before she speaks.

“Of all the people in this world I would have paired myself with, it would never have been you,” she says quietly. Slowly. Thoughtfully, tilting her head only slightly to glance in my direction. “You’re really wonderful.”

Jesus, my fucking heart—the little bastard—swells up. I’m not supposed to feel this way so fast—it’s been what, six, seven weeks? Thirty? Ninety? Feelings don’t happen this fast—not to me.

I’ve never fallen in love with anyone, ever.

Is that what this is?

These fucked up knots in my stomach and late nights spent staring at the bloody ceiling? Counting stars because I can’t sleep? Tossing and turning, checking my phone every goddamn second of every day we’re not together?

I can’t fucking believe it’s happening now.

With the girl from the front porch.

Cheeseball bastard.

Sap.

Take it slow, my brain tells me.

Run with it, and run as far as you can go.

I’m an athlete—a champion.

I play hard and jock harder, and these little games I’ve started with her?

I’m playing to win.





SEVENTH FRIDAY


“The Friday Before I Have to Spend an Entire Break Wanking Off and Jerking it to Porn.”





Rowdy


I didn’t realize those two weeks between Thanksgiving and the end of the semester would fly by so damn fast.

It doesn’t help that ninety percent of our time was spent cramming for finals, packing, and preparing to head home.

Luckily for my lips and dick, the other ten percent with Scarlett was spent making out on every surface of her house we could. Her place is the best, private. No roommates to interrupt or share her with.

My favorite spot to grope her is the kitchen; if I grab her by the hips, I can lift her high enough to plant her sweet little ass on the countertop, where she’s just the right height so I can step in between her legs…

I get turned on by the smallest things, too, like watching her make me a sandwich. Watching the nape of her neck as she stands at the sink. Observing her doing anything domestic gives me the biggest fucking boner.

Had me wedging myself more than a few times in front of her, scooping her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, and kissing the shit out of her.

God I’m going to miss her.

Somehow, I convinced her to stay until I have to leave—not that it was too hard. The second she started to protest, I kissed the argument right out of her. Took her to dinner and made staying a few more days worth her time.

And when I drive her home?

Every cell in my body is well aware that I’m not going to see her for thirty days.

My heart gives another squeeze, chest tight. Lump in my throat.

“Let me walk you to your door.”

A nod.

Her sidewalk is annoyingly short, and we’re at the front door in a matter of seconds. Scarlett pauses, back pressed against the doorframe, gazing up at me, she’s so damn beautiful.

“Want to come in?”

I want to—God knows I do. “I better not. If I come in, you know I won’t be able to leave, and I have to be up for my flight at three in the morning.” Not to mention a shit ton of other things to accomplish before I go.

“I’m leaving pretty early, too.”

My hands cup her face, buried in her hair. My thumbs brush her jaw, back and forth, then over her bottom lip.

Pink nose.

Long lashes.

Deceptively sweet dimple.

She’s nothing like I thought she’d be that night I dragged her onto the porch, nothing like that girl running her sassy mouth, arguing to get back inside.

Man am I glad I kicked her ass out, because now this ass is mine.

“Have fun in Florida,” she says against the palm of my hand, miserably.

“Not possible.”

“Yeah right. It’s my dream vacation.”

“You’re my dream vacation,” I croon, trying my damnedest to sound sexy.

It has the opposite effect.

Sounds so fucking dumb that Scarlett starts laughing.

And not that cute, flirty little laugh I love so much—no, it’s the loud, obnoxious one that makes me want to tackle her to the ground and stick my tongue down her throat.

“I can’t.” She gasps. “I’m your dream vacation? Really Rowdy? Oh god, it’s so cheesy I can’t breathe.” She wheezes in the cold, white puffs steaming out her mouth.