Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(83)

“Nice playing with you,” he says dryly before hustling off toward our tent.

“Sorry, man,” Liam calls after him. “Don’t go. We’ll play nice.”

Jordan smacks my ass before setting me on our blankets inside the tent.

“I can’t believe you, sweet Daisy.” He pulls his sweatshirt over his head.

“I’m sorry. We can go back, and I promise I won’t cheat.”

“Oh, please cheat, baby. It’ll make it sweeter when I torture you until you scream my name so loud the entire campsite hears you.”

He crawls on top of me, sliding one hand back under my sweatshirt and my still unhooked bra. The material bunches up around my chest, and he pushes it higher, forcing me to raise my arms. He leaves me tangled in my sweatshirt and bra with my hands above my head.

He goes to work removing my jeans while I try to wriggle the rest of the way out of my sweatshirt and bra. I’m not as successful as him, and when his mouth covers my pussy, I stop caring that my arms are restrained.

I arch into him, and he brings me to the brink of orgasm, body trembling. A scream outside stops us both.

“Was that Violet?” I ask, scrambling on my hands and knees to unzip the tent.

My heart is racing as I stick my head out to check on my friend. She’s two tents down, hair piled into a bun on top of her head and in sleep shorts and a tank top yelling at a shirtless Gavin.

“What the hell?” she screeches. “This is my tent.”

“No, this is my tent,” he replies.

The rest of our camp has gathered to see what the yelling is about.

Violet and Gavin both look to Jenkins. He rubs at his jaw and fights a smile. “Yeah, sorry, I forgot.”

“You forgot?!” Violet’s eyes are wild as she narrows them at him. “Forgot what?”

“I promised you the tent before I knew that Gavin was coming, but it’s actually his tent.”

“See?” Gavin says, and pushes past her back inside the tent.

“Oh no, get out of there.” Her voice trails off as she follows him.

Jordan chuckles and kisses my shoulder. “Well, that’s going to be interesting.”

“I should probably go check on her.”

“In a minute,” he says. “You haven’t finished fucking the dealer.”





EPILOGUE





JORDAN





Here’s the thing about loving someone like Daisy. She makes me want to be a better person. That’s it. That’s the thing. Sounds like a cheesy slogan, I know. But it isn’t just about being a better human. It’s in the details.

I work harder at everything—not just the things that used to matter to me like friendship, partying, and hockey. I’ve become a badass in the kitchen (I grill a mean steak and my spaghetti sauce is chef’s kiss perfection), I’m the fixer of things around the house, the killer of spiders (I let them free outside, shhh), the loud and sometimes crazy, but above all, I’m whatever she needs.

I think that’s the most important thing I’ve learned. People need different things at different times in their life. But what hasn’t changed in the five years since I met Daisy is my need for her. And my desire to give her everything she needs.

Every day, she amazes me, teaches me something, and loves me harder than I ever thought someone could. And man, do we have fun.

Case in point, today. We’re having a huge party at our house. It’s the off-season, and I’m enjoying a couple of months at home with my wife. Yep, that’s right. You may now refer to Daisy as Mrs. Thatcher. I’m not sure she knows what she got herself into. Or maybe she does. She’s way smarter than me.

Some of my teammates are here, along with our friends. The weather is perfect, the pool is ready, and the beer is ice cold. As soon as I find my gorgeous wife, I have a long afternoon of nothing but fun and sun planned.

“Daisy!” I yell as I enter the house through the back deck. The downstairs is quiet, so I head up the steps.

“Baby?” I check all the rooms as I make my way down the hall to our master bedroom. “I need your ass in that pool, sweet Daisy.”

The en suite bathroom light is on, door open.

“Are you in here?” I ask without going in.

“Y-yeah.” Her quiet voice transports me back in time. These days, she’s not so timid—at least not around me.

“Is everything okay?” I peer in carefully to find her sitting on the edge of the bathtub in her cute little yellow bikini.

“I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.” The corners of her mouth lift, but I know a bullshit smile when I see one from my girl.

“You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”

She stands and tries to pass off another fake smile. “Everyone is downstairs. Go.” She shoos me. “I’ll be down in five.”

“Nice try.” I pull her into my arms and lock my hands behind her back so she can’t get free. “What’s up, baby?”

Her stubborn little mouth pulls into a thin line like she thinks she’s going to get away without telling me.

“We have a house full of people,” she says.

“Ask me if I care?” I brush my lips against hers. “Everyone is having a blast. Everyone but you. So tell me, what’s up? Let me fix it, and then we can have a blast too.” I focus on her boobs which are bursting out of the little, tiny top. Damn. I bring my face down and bury it in her cleavage. “This bikini should be illegal.”