“Andre.” His name slips off my tongue like the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.
His expression, which was lustful and certain and completely fixated on sex, shifts to concern.
I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut, and things between us quickly cool down.
He rolls off of me and sits up, running a finger along my cheek. “What’s going on? You okay? Kendall, I got carried away. If you don’t want to—”
“No.” I force a laugh and pull the blanket up to cover my bare chest. “Obviously, I want…” I puff out a sigh. “This.”
“Are you still worried about Wyatt? Because I can talk to him.” He lifts a shoulder and leans against the headboard. “I’m sure he would understand if we have real feelings. I want this with you.” His eyes are serious and steady.
The words make me almost choke. Everything I’ve ever wanted is sitting right in front of me, shirtless.
But I know in my heart I have to drop the biggest mood-killing truth of all time.
“It’s not my brother,” I say softly, wiping a wrinkle out of the bedsheets and letting icy disappointment settle in my gut. “There’s something you should know. It’s…kinda shocking.”
He angles his head and gives a half smile. “I know about your crush, Kendall. If you couldn’t tell, it’s pretty reciprocated.”
I let out a soft laugh. “This is a different secret. Not a lot of people know.” Nerves rattle through my head and curl down my spine.
He nudges me playfully. “Should we relocate? I mean, I think we have a room dedicated to this sort of thing.”
His eyes sparkle with kindness, and he has the warmest smile I could ever imagine on the face of a guy who just got stopped moments before banging.
“There’s something…” I sit up, clinging to the blanket under my arms and so wishing these words weren’t about to come out of my mouth. “You should know.”
A strong hand rests on my naked back. “Kendall. It’s okay. You can be real with me about whatever’s on your mind.”
I drop my head down and let my messy, knotted, almost-sex hair fall around my face. “Remember that night I asked you to take my virginity?”
“Yes…” He draws out the word, still sitting behind me and softly rubbing my back.
“I never…” My words are barely audible. “Lost it.”
Silence falls over the room, and a chill ripples through me.
I shut my eyes and pull the blanket higher on my chest.
“Wait…what?” He draws back, confusion and shock twisting his handsome face. “You’re saying you’re still—”
“A virgin.” I finally find the ability to turn my head and meet his gaze and notice I’m holding my breath. “I know, I know. I’m twenty-five. I live in a hotbed of hookup culture. I’m decently attractive. It should be easy.” I shrug and purse my lips.
“Kendall, stop.” He raises his brows.
“What?”
“Decently attractive? That’s just not fair.”
My tension eases as a laugh slips out of my throat. “I’m not kidding, Andre.” I level my gaze with his. “I’ve never done it.”
“Shit,” he whispers. He swallows and shuts his eyes, shaking his head slowly, clearly still in total disbelief.
I tug the blanket some more, and wish the heaviness of this moment wasn’t quite so suffocating.
“Can I ask you something that you’re totally free to not answer?”
“Sure.”
“How?” The syllable crashes down into the space between us. “I mean…why? There’s no way you’ve made it this long without about a thousand opportunities to check that box. What are you…” His voice lowers, and he touches my hand softly. A tiny gesture that impacts me almost more than anything sexually ever could. “Waiting for?”
You.
I gather my hair over one shoulder and hug my knees to my chest, willing the lump in my throat to go away. “I guess it’s story time now.”
He leans against the headboard and strokes my cheek gently with his thumb. “Always my favorite part of the school day in kindergarten. Now’s no different.”
“Okay, well…” I relax a little, the warmth in his eyes and the patience in his smile making me feel more than safe. “That night I tried to…” I shut my eyes and laugh in embarrassment. “Give it to you… That was right before I went to college. My first semester there, when Desta was my roommate—God bless random selection—I was being a typical freshman and going to frat parties and testing the waters, I guess. There was this one guy… We were flirty, and he liked me. He was older, a junior, I think. Anyway, he took me back to his apartment one night after some dumb party. Oh, his apartment…” I glance at Andre and shudder a little at the vivid memory of a mess of pizza boxes and drug paraphernalia and dirty, dirty laundry.
“Frat-boy apartment.” He chuckles. “Doesn’t exactly sound like the Kendall Collins Standard of Living.”
“Scarring. Truly.” I smile and look down at the bed, part of me not wanting to get to the next part in the story, but another part aching for Andre to know everything. “Anyway, I guess it was implied that we’d be sleeping together that night. I was young and maybe a little intimidated. He pressured me.” My throat tightens, but I find Andre’s steady gaze and lace my fingers through his for comfort. “Pretty hard. He was mean and rough, and I just…left.”
“Kendall. Shit.” He squeezes my hand tight. “That’s horrible. God, I wish I could kick that jerk’s ass.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “It’s okay. He sucked. So I got back to the dorm at some ridiculous hour and sat with Desta crying for the rest of the night. We made a pact that night. We made the pact.”
“The pact?”
I nod, pursing my lips, wondering how unbelievably childish this sounds to someone who isn’t Desta or me, but also knowing that Andre isn’t the judgy type. “The pact that we would both save our first time for someone amazing. Someone right. That both of our first times would be…with the right guy.” I take a slow breath. “Of course, she met Jackson the following semester, and that was that. I just never had the chance with anyone that amazing.”
He’s quiet, processing my emotional dumping while also somehow making me feel secure.
The conversation hangs in the air, and I squeeze the blanket in my fists. “So, there you have it,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“You know what I love, Kendall?”
The question catches me off guard, and I meet his gaze. “What?”
“You don’t just like things to be nice or good or even perfect.” He keeps those sinful hazel eyes locked on me, like he’s looking into my soul. “You really won’t settle for anything less. Your first time should be perfect. I mean, shit, you’ve waited this long.”
My chest warms and swirls, and my tense shoulders relax a bit. “Yeah.”
Maybe it’s hormones or feelings or some kind of twisted biological clock, but it felt like it could have been. Right now, with him.
He sits up, leaning forward and holding my face with both of his strong, massive hands. “Let’s take it slow. Clearly, the first time matters to you, and I gotta respect that.” He smiles and gives my nose the lightest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever felt. “I’m in no rush.”
I furrow my brow and study him, wondering what kind of superstar pro athlete who can get literally any woman on earth would be okay with waiting for sex.
“Really?” I ask. “You sure?”
He shrugs, giving a teasingly cocky smile. “I’ve had my fair share. I can live. You, on the other hand…” He winks. “The curiosity might just eat you alive. I don’t know how it hasn’t already.”
“The need for perfection outweighs it, I guess.” I roll my eyes at myself.
I run my hand along his sheets, which are silky and cozy, even if they’re also a borderline-offensive shade of beige.
“C’mere.” He wraps those boulder arms around me, and I let myself just sink into him, feeling a light airiness ri
se in my chest, taking the place of that heavy anecdote. “How about a sexless sleepover? It’s already late as hell.”
I laugh. “Okay. But fair warning, I have an elaborate skin care routine that I absolutely will not skip.”
He kisses me softly, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I’m shocked.”
I relax against him, feeling an easy smile on my face and a sense of peace in my heart. For the first time in as long as I can remember, there’s absolutely nothing about this moment that needs to change.
Twelve
Andre
A virgin. Like an actual, real, never-had-sex-before-in-her-life virgin. Why doesn’t that freak me out more? Why am I not running for the damn hills right now? Why do I find it weirdly…
Attractive?
I still don’t regret anything I said to her. I’m an instinctive kinda guy. When I feel like something’s gonna make me happy, I go for it. No thought, no analysis, just send it. And shit’s always worked out for me that way.
The virgin thing was a curveball, that’s for sure. But it doesn’t change that I’m really into her. It doesn’t change that I could actually see myself getting into something serious with her.
Am I ready to be her first? She’s put so much damn weight on the experience for the past several years, building it up in her mind to be the First Time to End All First Times.
I have the dick game, that’s not my concern. Breaking her heart…losing her…fucking it up in some way…those are some pretty real fears.
I rack the bar after my third set of bench presses, and it slams into place with a loud clang.
The Riders training facility is huge and impressive, chilled with blasting fans and air conditioning and filled with the sounds of weights and trainers and occasionally Chase’s Get Fucking Hyped rap playlist.
My workouts here have been some of the toughest of my pro career so far, and I’ve usually been able to give it absolutely everything I’ve got with no distraction.
Football is my life. My whole-ass world. Training, practicing, conditioning, all of it. It’s who I am.
But today…today I’m scattered and preoccupied and can’t seem to get my brain to align with my body.
Damn it, Kendall. The more I can’t have her, the more I want her. And it’s killing me.
“You good, dude?” Dylan walks by with a towel draped around his neck.
I shake my shoulders. “Yeah, man. Just in my head a little today.”
“Better get out of your head. Less than two weeks until the Vikings game, and you’re gonna be our saving grace for that.” He chugs some Gatorade from a bottle and squats down on the bench next to me. “Isn’t Wyatt Collins, their tight end, your boy from college?”
“Shit, man.” I shake my head. “He’s my boy from…life. Back in the Pee Wee days, we were tearing it up together.”
Just the mention of Wyatt sends another course of confusion and overanalysis and unwelcome feelings through my head.
“That’s dope. Should be a fun one for you, then, going up against him.”
“Oh yeah. It’s always a blast playing the Vikings and kicking his ass on the field.”
And trying not to slip up and take his sister’s virginity while I’m at it.
I wipe a drop of sweat from my forehead and lean my elbows against my knees. I have to just accept that it can’t go any further with Kendall and shake it off and get the hell over it.
Girls don’t get in my head. Girls never get me fucked up like this, and I can’t remember the last time I was in the gym thinking about anything besides my form and my game.
“Come on.” Dylan nods toward the open core room of the facility. “Let’s rip some abs. I feel like you could use some company.”
I shrug and don’t argue with that, stretching my arms as we walk across the speckled rubber floor, saying “hey” to teammates training in different areas.
Dylan slaps down a mat and grabs two advanced ab rollers, tossing one to me. He cocks his head, frowning in question. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say with a smile. “Just getting a little bit of déjà vu.”
“Oh yeah.” He laughs and shakes his head. “When I was all strung out about Melody and barely knew you, then we did an ab workout together right here, and at the end of it, I’d practically told you my life story.”
I chuckle and squat down on the mat. “Yeah, bro. Well, the Melody part of your life story at least.” I lean against the roller and glance at him sideways. “I see what you’re doing.”
He lifts a shoulder and pushes forward, counting out reps of the exercise. “No clue what you’re talking about, man.”
“You want me to tell you what’s got me all messed up today, and you think some sentimental bro time over a nice ab workout will get me to discuss feelings.” We both laugh at the sarcasm in my voice.
He gives a half smile. “Just wanna make sure you’re on your A game. For the team.”
“For the team?” I roll out a set and grunt as I sit back on the mat. “Or for your nosy-ass fiancée who wants every bit of dirt on everyone?”
“Little bit of both?”
I sigh. “Do you remember your first time?”
Dylan chokes on a shocked laugh and sits straight up, looking at me with an arched brow and slack jaw. “Smoke…are you a virgin?”
I shove him and roll my eyes. “No, dipshit. Just…I don’t know.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Was it a big deal to you? First time you ever piped?”
He narrows his eyes and ponders the question, or more likely, he ponders why the hell I’m asking it. “Uh…if you count forty-six amazing seconds with Lindsay Banks in the back of my Accord as a big deal, then yeah. To sixteen-year-old me, anyway. It was a huge fucking deal.”
“Lindsay Banks,” I repeat, lying on my back for a set of weighted sit-ups. “And how do you feel about Lindsay now?”
“She was a nice girl. I haven’t spoken to her since high school. We broke up when we went to different colleges.” He turns to face me. “Okay. Why in the actual entire fuck are you asking me about this? I have to know.”
“So it wasn’t like…” I think hard and can’t help but smile at the absurdity of this conversation. “It wasn’t like this crazy-big deal?”
He stares at me, squinting dramatically. “Bro…are you okay?”
I laugh heartily and give my sweaty hair a shake. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just this girl…she’s already kinda off-limits as it is, so add in the fact that she’s…you know.”
He draws back in surprise, then flips over for plank sets, turning his head toward me. “A chick you’re talking to is a virgin? How is that possible?”
“She’s this huge perfectionist and wants her first time to be perfect, and I guess she had this shitty experience with some asshole in college. It’s just…I don’t know. Whatever.”
He angles his head sideways as we finish our first set of planks, taking a swig of water. “Is it the girl from the Atlantic the other night? The one Mel keeps calling her new BFF? You said she was…someone’s sister?” He narrows his eyes, trying to put the pieces together and figuring things out a little too quickly.
Fuck it. Dylan won’t run his mouth, and I gotta get this shit off my chest to someone. Normally, my go-to bro is Wyatt, but that’s not gonna fly this time, so Rivera the Kicker it is.
I lower my voice. “Yeah, it’s Kendall. She’s Wyatt’s little sister, so I’ve known her for, like, ever. Never really noticed anything about her growing up. I never thought twice about her.” I lean back on my palms and stretch my legs out in front of me. “When I got traded here, Wyatt was all, ‘Go hang out with my sister. I want someone to keep an eye on her.’ And then I saw her, and she’s, like, a perfect fucking ten, and awesome, and funny, and…”
“A virgin,” he says quietly, furrowing his brow and processing the dump of personal information. “Huh. And you’re into her, but you’re supposed to be looking out for her, because her brother is your best friend…” He dra
ws out every word slowly, pointing at different spots in the air as he puts everything together. “And Wyatt is going to be here. And see you. And Kendall. And…”
“Yeah.”
“What a hot fucking mess, dude.”
I lie flat on the mat and let myself have a good laugh with Dylan about everything.
“Any genius advice? Help your boy out?”
He blows out a breath and thinks for a while. “Personally, dude? Don’t swipe your best friend’s sister’s v-card unless you have full intentions of marrying her. Because if you hurt her…”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I sit up and drink my Gatorade, wiping my hands on my gym shorts and trying to completely and totally ignore the weird and unwelcome zing of excitement at the words.
Marrying her.
Thirteen
Kendall
Had early practice, didn’t wanna wake you. Don’t destroy my house too much today. ;) I’ll see you soon.
I stare at the text I’ve read probably a hundred and fifty times in the last few days since the other night with Andre, feeling a swell of excitement to see him again today. My eyes fall on the clock in the corner of the phone screen, and I quickly hop out of my desk chair and start gathering what I need.
“Please tell me more about your fancy new NFL life. I’m parched for some juicy tea.” Desta holds a dramatic hand to her forehead and sits on my desk.
“The NFL isn’t all that new to me, remember? But I can’t talk long now.” I down a swig of my piping-hot latte and glance at the time on my phone. “I’m meeting him in twenty minutes at the stoneworks warehouse.”
Desta shakes her shoulders, holding her ever-growing baby bump and pursing her lips. “A little tile- and granite-picking date. I like it, Collins. Very on brand.”
I roll my eyes and snag some paperwork on my desk, wiping up a rogue droplet of coffee with a napkin. “It’s not a date. You know I don’t like to pick out finishings without involving the homeowner. It’s his house, remember?” I shoot her a look and grab my purse off the back of my chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him choose anything that’s not HGTV perfection. I just want to make sure the home gets some of his personality in it.”
Rough Ride Page 9
