I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(73)

“I want you so bad…” he says breathily. He kisses me long and hard, his fingers digging into my hips as my body clenches. “Think we’ll get suspended?”

“Might get arrested.”

“You’re a rebel,” he murmurs.

“You like it.”

“Fuck me, I do. Serena…” he groans and kisses me like a man who needs me to breathe. “You slay me.”

“Let’s do this fast.”

“Not too fast.”

“Make me come, football player.”

“My pleasure.” He rips my thong into pieces and I nearly combust right there. We fumble with a condom, barely get it on, and he sinks inside me. We pause for a second, both of us exhaling. He holds my eyes, slides out, and fucks me hard, using his hands to pull me up and down. He pants, his chest heaving as sweat dusts his skin. I can’t breathe as he bites my shoulder then presses a delicate kiss there.

His fingers dig into my scalp to get closer, but we can’t be any closer. I’m consumed with every nuance, his deep thrusts, my name on his lips, the flutter of his lashes. I take his mouth and suck on his tongue.

He palms my breasts, his fingers rolling my erect nipples. I moan, my head dropping back as my hips swivel to meet his, rubbing my clit against his pelvis. Incomparable passion roars like a lion in my veins.

He wraps his arms around me as we fuck. “Never. Get. Enough,” is wrenched from the depths of his throat as he yanks on my hair, pulling me to him for a scorching kiss.

This. Him. Us.

Is it crazy that I want everything?





24





Several days later, I park in front of Serena’s apartment. I’m exhausted and rattled from our away game Saturday against Ole Miss, which we barely won. I missed her in the stadium. Since the LSU game, the Gazette requested she only report home games.

Serena.

I twist my hands around the steering wheel as tension rolls over me. I think about her at the oddest times, when I’m in class, in the library, the locker room. I dig her quirkiness, her smirks, her complexity, the way she takes care of Romy, her banging body…

I’m wrapped up in her, taking each day as it comes. When I’m with her, I’m on top of the world, but when I’m not, worry creeps in. Like now.

The challenge… I worry it’s going to drive a wedge between us if she finds out. A long exhalation leaves my chest. She might even break up with me. Fear lances through me as I scrub my jaw. I can’t lose her; I just found her.

I kick the worry down and head to the front door of the house. Nancy meets me wearing jorts, an AC/DC shirt, flip-flops, and a straw hat with pink roses and ribbons that hang down the back. A button is pinned on the front and reads Don’t Hula Hoop Without A Bra.

“About time you got here! Who shows up late for a day trip with the granny—for her birthday? Go inside and get my beer.”

I laugh as I wave the dozen pink roses in my hand. “I brought flowers. Happy Birthday!”

She clutches them, taking a big sniff. “Good boy.”

“How’s Turo?”

A sigh of disappointment comes from her. “Not coming. He delivered my gift last night. Did I tell you he’s Italian? When he says mozzarella, I melt. Oh, that’s funny.”

I dig her family. Nana is a hoot and Romy is great. Julian hasn’t spent time with me yet, so that’s still up for debate.

She hands me back the flowers. “Put them in a vase for me? They’re under the sink. I need to go check my hat again. Don’t forget my beer. It’s in the kitchen in the good cooler.”

“Where are we going?” I ask as we walk inside the house.

“How do you feel about ostriches?” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears down the hall.

I answer even though she’s gone. “Birds, in general, are vicious monsters—”

“Dude, you’re scared! Yeah, Serena let it slip,” Romy says gleefully as she joins me in the foyer. She’s wearing jeans and a Magnolia Prep green shirt. She gives me a fist bump.

“Dillon McQueen is a warrior. He fears nothing,” I say. “Also, birds are evil.”

Nancy comes out from what I assume is her bedroom. “I need you to drive. Is it okay if I bring Betty? Buster hates birds like you, so he’s staying home.”

A dog in my sweet ride? I just cleaned it. “Where are we going, again?”

A gleam grows in her eyes. “Safari park.”

“In Mississippi?” My voice is incredulous.

“Yep. Some elk, buffalo, camels, llamas. Can Betty come? It is my birthday and you’re dating my granddaughter—the best one.”

“Hey!” Romy says. “Right here!”

“You’re my favorite too,” Nancy says and pats her head.

I smile. “What’s dog hair when llamas are scratching my car?”

“Knew it. Keeper,” she says then sashays past me and out the door.

I make my way through the house, taking everything in. The furniture is faded but cared for, the counters spotless, the wooden floor shiny. I grab the ‘good’ cooler, a ragged Styrofoam container that looks like it’s more duct tape than foam. Inside are bottles of Bud Light and ice. “Nancy, I need to introduce you to Fat Tire,” I muse on a laugh.