The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(41)

“Then why are your eyes all freaked out?” She presses her hand to her head. “And why am I in my underwear?” She glances around the bed, the floor, and nightstand. “Are there any, you know, wrappers?”

“I don’t have any, so, no.”

She nods. “Okay, okay.” Her eyes meet mine. “How does your dick feel this morning?”

“What?”

She swallows hard. “Does it feel . . . satisfied?”

“Should it?”

She pushes her hand through her hair. “Honestly, I don’t know. I keep having these images of me on top of you, grinding.” Her cheeks flush to a bright red. “Was that a dream?”

“I don’t think so, unless we’re both having the same dream.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, bringing the coffee to her lips. “I’m—oh God, I’m sorry, Crew.” She shakes her head. “I think I dry humped you last night.”

And then it all comes together.

Me spooning her.

Telling her she has great tits.

Hazel rubbing her ass against my crotch.

Hazel straddling me.

Me encouraging her.

Hazel’s pelvis grinding me.

My hard cock begging for more.

Haze . . . coming on top of me.

“Oh hell,” I mutter.

“I want to die a slow death.” She pulls the comforter over her head and hides from me.

I don’t blame her. If I had a comforter, I’d be hiding, as well. I don’t remember the finer details of last night, but what I do remember is encouraging her with my hands, watching as she writhed above me, undeniable passion in her expression. And I remember enjoying it. I remember a feeling of electrifying euphoria washing over me as Hazel came right on top of me. Fuck. It was sexy as hell.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a girl, a really fucking long time, and even though our interaction was dry humping while drunk, in my mind, it was better than any sexual interaction I’ve had in a long fucking time.

And that’s scary.

But what’s scarier is that we have many more days left together and we can’t hide from each other. We have to move past this—possibly move forward.

What does it all mean? Does she like me like that? She admitted to having a crush, unlike me, who has kept that aspect of my feelings completely secret because I refuse to let my mind wander in that direction. Although, it seems as though my alcohol-laden brain broke open that floodgate and allowed me to indulge.

And look where we are now.

I’m staring at a mortified, comforter-covered Hazel who can’t even look at me.

Sighing, I move to sit next to her on the bed. Carefully, I pull down the comforter, revealing her tearful face.

Immediately, I jump to concerned. I set my coffee mug on the nightstand and quickly wipe away her tears. “Hey, why are you crying?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“What? Why?”

“Uh . . . I humped you last night, Crew.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t hear any protesting from me.”

“You were drunk.”

“So were you,” I counter. Taking her mug from her hand, I set it on the nightstand as well and then take her hands in mine. “Listen, let’s just chalk it up to some drunken fun, okay?”

“Not a drunken mistake?” she asks, looking down at our hands.

I tilt her head up and force her to look me in the eyes. “Do you think it was a mistake?”

“Only if it makes things weird between us.”

“It’ll only be awkward if we make it awkward.” I sit back and smile at her. “I had fun. And, yeah, my dick does feel better this morning.”

“Oh God.” She covers her face with her hands, but I pry them away.

“Nope, you can’t hide from me. Come on, Haze. We’re adults. We can talk about this stuff. You talked about it easily at the beginning of the trip. How is this any different?”

“Because I dry humped you, Crew. And you came. And I came. We both came.”

“Which in my eyes is a successful dry humping.” I smirk, and she pushes at my face.

“Why are you not horrified?”

I shrug. “Because it was hot. From what I can remember, at least. Because I had a good time, and because I’m not going to let this change anything between us. You’re my Hazel, I’m your Crew, and that’s that.”

“So, you’re not thinking that I’m some desperate farm girl trying to get any kind of ride out of the hunky, popular athlete?”

“Uh, no. I’m thinking, ‘Hell, Hazel rode me last night and it was hot as shit. I hope she doesn’t hate that I have an image of her riding me on replay in my mind.’”

“Oh my God.” She flops her body to the side and buries her head in the pillows.

I tear the covers off her, leaving her curled up in her bra and underwear, and then I give her ass a big slap. With a yelp, she jackknifes off the bed and swirls around to look me in the eyes, fury striking in them.

“You did not just spank me.”

“I think I did.”

“You’re going to regret that.” She stands on the bed, and before I know what’s happening, she’s launching herself at me, flattening me on the mattress, her body straddling me once again.