First Down (Beyond the Play, #1)(8)

I grit my teeth. “Darryl.”

“I knew you’d come back around,” he says. “You’re so pretty, baby. So glad you came tonight for me.”

I push his hand away. “I didn’t.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. The guy from before. He has a frown on his face. He takes a step forward.

“I’m here for him, actually.”

I don’t know what possesses me, but I shake myself free of Darryl and walk over, reach up to put my arms around this stranger’s neck… and kiss him.

On the lips.

Holy hell, this is a good kiss.

Maybe I caught him by surprise, but he’s kissing back, his arms coming around my waist to squeeze me, his warm body pressed right against mine. He deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out to drag over the seam of my lips, and I open for him, let him kiss me until I’m breathless and overheated. He smells woodsy, like his cologne has hints of pine in it, and those hands… they’re big and set low on my body, almost brushing my ass. After half a second’s breath, I kiss him again. Intending it to be a goodbye. To run away. But he tightens his grip, plundering my mouth with his as he steals my very breath.

This one kiss—from a stranger—is better than any kiss I shared with Darryl. He’s ridiculously good at this, kissing like it’s his job. I could happily stay here the whole night, offering my mouth to his.

He shifts a little, bending down to murmur against my ear. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The spell shatters. Maybe Laura wants me to be the sort of person who can handle a hookup, but I can’t. I’m not built for it. And I’m not letting myself get drawn into another destined-for-doom relationship, even if he kisses like sin and smells like a goddamn forest. I step back, untangling myself from him. My body immediately misses his touch. I feel cold, even in this crowded room. The music is still pounding, but I can barely hear it.

I turn on my heel and make a beeline for the door.

“Wait,” I hear the guy say at the same time Darryl calls my name.

Shit. What the hell did I just do?





5





BEX





I can’t believe that out of every person I could have kissed, I chose McKee’s new quarterback.

The so-called savior of our football program.

Darryl’s teammate.

Shit.

Even though I need to get up and make myself presentable for class, I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. Not the ugly expression on Darryl’s face or the way half the party was staring as I fled, but the way the kiss felt. I’ve always been self-conscious when it comes to kissing, especially in front of others. But this guy… he made everyone and everything else disappear. The way he put his hands on me to pull me closer, the slight roughness of his lips, the reluctant way he broke it off… it was a kiss worth fantasizing over. I inch my hand under the waistband of my sleep shorts, just skimming the top of my sex. Maybe I can go fast and—

No.

I can’t. Even if I can’t stop imagining his lips right between my legs.

I glance at my phone. I have time.

I bite my lip, torn, and then slide my fingers downward. My fingers part my folds, and I bite back a gasp when I nudge my clit. I circle it with the tip of my finger. James had just a bit of stubble; if he put his mouth where my fingers are, it would scratch against my skin deliciously. Would he be gentle? Rough? I may have started the kiss, but he took it over with ease. Quarterbacks are in command of the whole show on the field, right? So, in bed…

“Bex!” Laura says, banging on my door.

My hand flies out of my shorts. I can’t even be mad at her because it’s for the best. No good would come from fantasizing about a guy I kissed out of panic, in front of my ex.

My face burns suddenly. He might’ve kissed me back, but with a couple days’ distance, I’m sure he realizes I’m a freak. I can only hope I don’t accidentally run into him on campus. It’s a good thing we go to a big university. Maybe he’s not much of a coffee drinker and he won’t even stop by The Purple Kettle.

“Bex,” Laura calls. “We have to go soon if we’re going to grab breakfast before class.”

“I’ll be right there!” I roll out of bed and yank open the closet door. Throw on a pair of jean shorts and a faded Abby’s Place t-shirt—when it comes to the diner, that’s the one thing that’s always in supply. I yank a comb through my hair and find my sandals. I guess I’m just going to have to forego makeup today.

After brushing my teeth and throwing my stuff into my backpack, Laura and I head out. Our dorm has a dining hall attached to it, so it’s blessedly easy to get that first cup of coffee and some toast without making it ourselves every time. That’s the best part about college and one of the things I’ll miss the most: food on demand. My hashbrowns are way better, though.

When we both have a plate, we find a booth in the back. Laura looks a lot more put together than me—full face of makeup, matching jewelry. I’ll bet she got up to work out and everything. And what was I doing? Getting off to the thought of some dude’s stubble?

Ugh. I just worked my way out of an all-consuming, soul-sucking relationship. I can’t give myself any unnecessary distractions this semester, not with Mom and the diner and everything else I have going on.