Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University Series)(68)

“I…” He pauses. His lips part again. As if he’s trying to force the words out.

“I need you,” I whisper, saving us both from embarrassment, from something neither of us can handle right now.

Taking his shaft in hand, he rubs the fat head of it against my swollen lips and slowly sinks in, filling up the empty space the same way he already has in my heart. He’s right. It is space, a quantifiable amount of real estate, and there is only so much any one of us can give. And I give it all to him.

“How’s this?” he says after a deep, lazy thrust.

“It’ll be great when I’m able to breathe again.” My toes curl and my back arches as I reach for it. The slow friction is making me crazy. My eyes roll into the back of my skull. “Rea––stop torturing us!”

His forehead hits the bed next to my head and I feel his body shake in laughter. “Then stop squirming, or I’m going to go off before you can finish.”

He starts moving again. Brows slanted inward, beads of sweat accumulating at his temples, he bites his bottom lip. I laugh at the effort he’s making to go slow. Then I grab his ass and squeeze, and a mask of defeat falls over his face. His rhythm changes, each jack of his hips harder and faster than the last, and my body demands I meet him stroke for stroke. For a moment we are rhythm and breath and scent and touch in perfect harmony, everything else bleeding away. Until I come, bursting into a million pieces.

The bed starts to move across the wood floor just as I’m hitting another orgasm for the record books, the charge set off as his pubic bone kisses mine over and over again. I tip over the edge laughing, all my muscles contracting and bearing down on him, and the surprised look on his face makes me laugh even harder.

His eyes squeeze shut, his back arches, and his abs draw so tight I can see each and every delineated band of muscle in contrast to the other. Rocking into me one last time, he bottoms out and stills. A groan so loud and guttural spills out of him, Cole bangs on the adjoining wall. Serves him right after what I had to witness.

Reagan’s eyes are already beginning to fall shut when he collapses next to me in a sweaty heap. I turn my head and catch him watching me through his dark lashes, expression unreadable. “What are you thinking?”

He smiles tiredly. “Shoulda done this the first time I wanted to,” he rasps.

“When was that?” I ask as I push the wet hair off his forehead.

“The day you ran me over,” he mumbles. His eyes fall shut, and the smile I was holding down gets loose. I don’t think he realizes what he said.

We get only a few restless hours of sleep that night. The rest of the time we spend lips to lips, pelvis to pelvis. One body worshipping the other. Making up for lost time.





Chapter 25





Alice


“Hey, Bailey?” Dallas calls out. I glance up to find him sprawled out on the outdoor bleachers next to some of the other guys who are still hanging around.

The team just finished their last practice before the semifinal round of the championship tournament this weekend and Coach asked me to meet with him after I finished shooting some extra stills. There’s a lot riding on this meeting and to say I’m more than a little nervous is an understatement.

“Yes, Dallas?” I intone while I break down the tripod and put it away in my equipment bag.

“I’m still the most photogenic guy on the team, right? You’re not going to play favorites now, are you? Because that would be unethical.”

Chuckling, I ask, “What exactly do you mean?”

He sits up and rips his sunglasses off, his expression one of great resolve. The blond curls falling carelessly around his face kind of kills the fierce blue stare, though. “What I’m getting at here is––am I still the star of your movie?”

I bite back the urge to laugh at the pout. If he wasn’t such a wild one, Dallas Van Zant would be a total catch. “It’s not a movie, Dall. There are no stars. But you do have a star-making moment in it.”

“That’s all you had to say.” He slams his sunglasses over his eyes again and gives me a big toothy grin. “Do you need any more shots of me? ’Cause I have some time now.”

“I think I’ve got enough.” I wink as I head to Becker’s office.

Ten minutes later, sitting on the other side of his enormous desk, I’m sweating bullets.

“This is excellent work,” he says as he watches the video with undivided attention. I finally exhale the breath I’ve been holding since he pressed play. Fingers crossed he likes it enough to buy it.

“This is what a fully produced product should look like,” I explain. “As you can see it’s really fast-paced and colorful. Lots of action. Geared to appeal to my generation.” The video makes the guys look like action stars. Dallas included. It’s also sexy as all get-out, but I can’t very well tell Coach that.

“Frankly, I only agreed to this arrangement because Reynolds said he’d assume the cost if I didn’t care for it. I’m glad he talked me into it. This is exactly what I need to get an upper hand on UCLA and Stanford. Everything is about optics these days. And as you said, this speaks to a younger generation in their language.”

Coach Becker’s face breaks into a small smile that I would be able to appreciate if I wasn’t currently in shock over the bomb he just dropped in my lap.