Do Over: A Second Chance Sports Romance: Winthrop Wolves Book 1

by Zoey Shores

  “Don’t worry. I actually like editing people’s writing. I’ll probably have to work in editing for a little bit while I’m breaking into journalism, before I get an article of my own at a real newspaper. So, this was good practice.”

  We pack up and start to head home. Outside the library doors, the sky is already black even though it’s only six o’clock.

  “These dark autumn nights really take you by surprise this time of year,” I muse, as the change in weather drives home just how different everything is right now compared to before the semester started. Fuck, everything’s changed. More than I could have ever imagined.

  “Yeah, it’s -- damn it!” she suddenly exclaims.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, worried.

  She lets out a groan of frustration and stomps her feet. “I forgot my phone charger at the student paper office. Ugh, and my phone’s about to die, too. I have to go get it.”

  “No problem, I’ll walk you over.”

  We walk across the campus, cutting through the crisp, chilly air. The walkways are mostly deserted, the early sunset and plummeting temperatures driving everyone inside on this calm and quiet Wednesday night.

  We walk into the English building, which is deserted at this hour. Not even the lights are still on. We walk tentatively up the stairs to the second floor, where the offices of the student paper are housed. Heidi withdraws the key to the offices from her purse, but stops for a moment, with the key on the threshold of the lock.

  A sensation in the air suddenly seizes me. A sensation I’ve felt before. Twice. The last time I felt it, I stopped myself before it carried me to where it wanted me to go. The first time I felt it, I kissed Heidi for the first time in five years. And now I feel it again. The way Heidi is looking down at the key in her hand with a tense expression on her face, I’m thinking that she’s feeling it, too.

  This is why we’ve tried not to be alone together since what happened -- almost happened – at the bar a couple weeks ago. But now, we’re alone. If we step inside the student paper offices, we’ll be even more alone …

  Finally, Heidi opens the door, and we walk in. With the smaller windows and more enclosed space, it’s even darker.

  “I don't know who designed this place, but for some reason the light switch is all the way on the other side of the room. It’s faster to just feel my way to my desk. Watch your step.”

  Heidi leads the way tentatively to her desk in the middle of the room. The room is lined with long tables that serve as work areas for the writers.

  “Oh--” Heidi gasps, almost tripping over something. I instinctively reach out and grab her, keeping for from falling. To steady her back on her feet, I pull her towards me.

  Holy shit.

  A surge of passion races through my body. In this dark room, I can hardly see two feet in front of me. With all my other senses suppressed, my sense of touch is supercharged. And I’m touching Heidi. I’m holding her in my arms.

  And holy shit, she feels so fucking good.

  She’s so warm. So soft, even under the layers of clothing. The soft swell of her breasts presses against me. I can feel her heart beating, still hard from the near trip. I can only make out the faintest, delicate outlines of her face. I can barely perceive that her lips are slightly parted.

  He hands are placed on my shoulders, steadying herself to regain her equilibrium.

  “W-woops,” she peeps. Her voice is soft, quiet and high. Sweet, syrupy sweet. It sends a shiver down my spine. I realize that my cock is rock hard, straining against my jeans.

  Not only is it straining against my jeans, but I can feel Heidi’s center pressed against my erection. Her body, her pressure, her warmth, I can feel it against my cock, through both of our clothes.

  My heart pumps hard and heavy, so much of it directed toward my massive, solid erection that I start to feel lightheaded. My cock starts throbbing, throbbing against Heidi. The sensation and the knowledge of what’s happening only exacerbates the effect of the lightheadedness.

  We’re alone. Totally alone. In the dark. My arm is wrapped around her sleek, perfectly shaped torso, and her body is resting against mine, leaning against my raging, throbbing cock.

  “Luke ...” she pleads, breathlessly.

  The sound of my name coming desperately from her lips on increases the intensity of my passion. My hairs stand on end and every muscle in my body tenses and tightens. Her hands, which are placed on my shoulders, begin to slide down, coming to rest on my hips. My mouth waters to feel her hands so close to my cock, tantalizingly close.

  This is a mistake. She has too much to lose. So do I. Including our friendship. What will happen if we can’t stop ourselves this time? What will be the fallout between us? How will my playing on the field be affected?

  These thoughts race through my mind at the speed of light and then vanish. I don’t care. Right now, I only care about how intoxicatingly blissful Heidi feels, and how much I want – how much I need – to feel more of her.

  “I need to kiss you Heidi,” I say in a husky, heavy voice. “I won’t do it if you tell me not to. It’ll kill me, but I won’t. But I want to so fucking bad …"

  “Luke ...” she can only squeak out again.

  “Tell me not to, Heidi. Tell me I can’t. Otherwise, I’ll, I’ll …" I’ll lose control.

  “Kiss me,” she moans.

  My lips crash against hers in a passionate, desperate, intense embrace. So many feelings, so much desire that I’ve been holding back explodes like a brilliant barrage of fireworks. Our lips are surging, crashing and caressing.

  She yields her lips to my tongue, and I explore the inside of her mouth. I breath in her scent, her taste, invigorated and intoxicated. I bring my hands to rest against her shapely, delicate hips, pressing my fingertips into her softness. I inch them up the hem of her sweater, feeling her bare skin, so warm and smooth.

  I back her into the edge of her desk, which she takes a seat on. She wraps her legs around me, drawing me closer to her. My hands get more frenzied, greedy for the feel of her taut, smooth tummy. Our lips continue their dance. I slide my tongue over her bottom lip, drawing a sweet moan from her throat.

  I inch my fingers up, feeling the edge of her bra. Slowly, delicately my fingertips work their way underneath, up to her breast – when the sound of the front door opening brings us crashing back down to Earth.

  We stop, frozen in place.

  “Is someone there?” the voice at the front of the room asks; a man’s voice, the tone laden with suspicion.

  Heidi brings her finger up to her lips, indicating for me to stay quiet. Through the miniscule illumination the tiny windows afford, I can see her finger trembling.

  “Hm, must be hearing things,” the voice muses, much of our relief.

  Heidi points downward, indicating for us to hide underneath the table. Luckily, the table has an edge, blocking view underneath its surface from the opposite side. We crouch underneath and stay still as the man waltzes to the other side of the room and flips on the light switch.

  Light floods the room. Even though we’re shaded underneath the table, the light still penetrates enough to allow me a glimpse of Heidi.

  Fuck.

  Her hair is messy, her face frenzied. She looks so unbelievably sexy. But she also looks worried. I place my hand on her shoulder to calm her. I hear the footsteps of the man recede down the hallway.

  “It’s Dr. Gasten,” she whispers.

  “Who?”

  “He’s in charge of the student paper. Oh my God, if he finds us here …"

  “He won’t, don’t worry. He probably forgot something here just like you. He’ll be gone in a second.”

  I hear him whistling back toward the door. He flicks off the light switch and seconds later the door opens and shuts behind him.

  We’re plunged in darkness again, even denser darkness as we’re still crouched under the desk. The moment the door is closed and we’re alone again, we collapse back into each other's ar
ms, our lips resuming their tempestuous tango.

  “This is a bad idea,” Heidi says through heavy breath.

  “I know. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.”

  I take her in my arms and lay her down on the floor, easing my body over her. My body throbs with longing. I can’t stay slow and delicate anymore. I begin to run my hand over her body frenetically, needing to feel every inch of her.

  I run my hand under her bra, cupping her full breast. She moans as I circle her hard nipple with my thumb and index finger. She reaches down to pull off her sweater and her shirt underneath. I unhook her bra and toss it to the side.

  I place both of my hands over her breasts, feeling their weight and volume, kneading and caressing them as a symphony of moans and groans dances out of her pleading mouth.

  I leave a trail of kisses down her tummy as I trace my hands down her bare sides to the waist of her jeans. I undo her button and zipper, and with satisfaction slide her tight jeans off down her long, gorgeous legs. I toss them, too, to the side and then slide her panties down her legs, leaving her bare and exposed.

  On my knees, I hurry to remove my own clothes. Once I’m nude, I descend over her. Our bare skin touches, a wave of pleasure traveling over my body and drowning my senses.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asks after our lips again devour each other. I reach over to my discarded jeans and fish out a condom from my wallet. I was always in the habit of carrying one around, although I haven’t had to use it so far this semester.

  I slide the condom on my hard, throbbing cock. Heidi sits up and wraps her hands around my neck, pulling me back down and opening her legs, inviting me between them.

  “I need you now,” she begs.

  I hoist up my hips, so the tip of my cock is resting right above her slick opening. I slant my lips across hers one more time, mingling our breaths and savoring the taste of her mouth, before I slowly thrust forward, plunging inside her.

  “Oh,” she moans, burying her face in my neck.

  I begin to move up and down, pumping in and out of her wet, tight pussy. It’s so warm and soft. I move with more vigor and force, my ability to hold back evaporating with each hump.

  “Fuck,” I groan. She begins to pump her hips with my rhythm, meeting my thrusts with her own. I kiss her as I fuck her wildly. The whole world is a whirlwind of pleasure and lust. She’s calling my name, I’m calling hers, our voices and moans mingling in the dark air.

  “I’m almost there …" she moans through heavy, panting breaths. My hips twist with my strokes. I want to give her the longest, hardest orgasm of her life.

  “Fuck,” I roar as she lets out a sharp moan, announcing her orgasm. I keep pumping in and out, feeling the walls of her pussy contract as orgasmic tremors wrack her body.

  Orgasm takes hold of me. After a few more desperate thrusts, an explosion of pleasure shocks my body as I come. I collapse onto her, panting. Our chests, slick with sweat, heave against each other as we regain our senses and our breaths.

  “Luke …" she pants, an abandoned prelude to an inexpressible thought.

  That was amazing.

  But I fear it was a mistake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: HEIDI

  We re-dress voicelessly in the dark. My mind is a tornado of thoughts and feelings, so conflicting and intense that I can hardly hold one coherent idea in focus for a second at a time.

  What did we just do? What were we thinking?

  Those questions, though, are quickly replaced with the thought of how unimaginable sex with Luke was. The orgasm was otherworldly, the passion almost inhuman. My skin is still tingling, my legs still wobbly and weak, waves of pleasure still traversing my body like an aftershock.

  But it’s not long until the doubts again take hold of me. It’s more than just doubt, because there’s no doubt that what we did was a mistake.

  Shit, we almost got caught by Dr. Gasten. That should have been enough to shock me back to my senses.

  If anyone found out what happened here tonight, that would be the end of my career before it starts. I’d be kicked off the Wolves assignment, probably kicked off the paper. Everyone would be talking about it. In journalism circles, I’d be known for falling for and sleeping with the person I was supposed to be covering neutrally and professionally.

  With my clothes back on, and I still feel his touch lingering on my skin. I can still feel the kisses he placed on my stomach, the imprint of his fingertips of my hips and thighs, the pressure of his thumb on my still-hard nipples.

  Of course, I still feel his girth inside of me, also. I still sense the friction from his long, hard cock. It’s still so real and vivid, that it’s not even a memory yet.

  But I know that it can’t happen again.

  “Ready?” he asks, his voice unsteady, behind me, after I’ve been standing here fully dressed and silent for about a minute.

  “Yeah,” I respond, sheepishly. We walk out of the room without exchanging another word.

  Once we’re out of the office space and into the long hall of the English building, the illumination is greater. For the first time since Dr. Gasten left and shut out of the light, and we succumbed to our passion, I can clearly see the outlines of his face and the light in his eyes.

  My heart feels deflated. I want what just happened to happen again – over and over again. I want Luke and I to be more than friends. I want to be able to pick up where we left off, so many years ago.

  But we can’t. There are too many reasons we can’t.

  As we walk the cold, dark, empty streets back home we still don’t exchange any words. I feel a pull towards him as we walk next to each other, like I’m being magnetically drawn to his body. Attraction in the purest sense of the word. Even despite all the awkwardness generated by what just happened, all the jumbled thoughts and emotions running through my head and heart, all the reasons I know that what just happened was a mistake. Despite it all, the idea of being with him feels so natural, so right.

  Finally, we arrive in front of my building.

  Luke looks at me, and it’s written in his face that he’s searching for the right words but coming up short. “I’ll … call you tomorrow, okay?”

  I nod and force a smile. I start like I’m about to lean in for a hug goodbye but stop myself. I nod and smile again, before walking up to my apartment. I let out a deep sigh once I close the door behind me. Luckily, it looks like Rory is in her room, with the door closed. God knows I don’t want to try to explain to anyone what just happened.

  I’m having enough trouble explaining it to myself.

  I wake up at 8:30 the next morning. The night before, I turned off all the alarms on my phone. I knew that I would need this morning to think. It’s my first day missing any classes this semester, so I think I can spare it.

  Rory tried to wake me up around 7:30. I told her I was taking the day off, and luckily, she accepted it without further questions, not suspecting any suspicious reason. She’ll be on campus all day today, so I’ll have the apartment to myself to do some deep, solitary thinking.

  Whether I’ll actually be able to resolve anything or just drive myself even more insane, well, that’s yet to be determined.

  Coffee and ice cream are my comfort food for the morning as I flop down on the couch, put on a Netflix series in the background that I barely pay attention to, and allow all the thoughts racing through my head to marinate. Are things any clearer after a good night sleep? Will I suddenly happen upon a brilliant insight that allows me to realize how to uncomplicate things between Luke and me?

  Nope.

  Okay. Being with Luke while the football season is still going on and I’m still covering the Wolves for the student paper is out of the question. If it were public, it would damage my credibility as a journalist so badly that everything I’ve gained by having this high-profile assignment will be lost.

  We could, hypothetically, keep it a secret. But that would never work. Greg, and plenty of others, would on
ly be only too happy to reveal the secret if they even caught the slightest whiff that something was going on.

  So, immediately, I’m placing that idea in the No Way bucket.

  But, what about next semester?

  It’s still not a good idea. Hell, it’s an outright back idea. Even though it would be after my assignment ended, and after he’s technically the subject of my coverage, it would still be frowned upon. If I take up with one person I’m covering as part of an ongoing column, what would stop me from doing the same in the future? That’s what people might ask. Could I really be trusted not to mix business with pleasure? Those questions would hang cover me.

  It wouldn’t be as damning as shacking up with someone I’m actually actively covering, but plenty of people would still find it objectionable.

  But probably not so objectionable that I couldn’t overcome the stigma with good work.

  What’s for sure is that Dr. Gasten wouldn’t give me the Wolves coverage spot at the paper next season. It would be a huge win for Greg, who would almost certainly get the column space in my place, which is something I’m loathe enough to concede.

  It would be a loss, since no matter what my assignment would be after that, it would be a considerable step down in prestige and recognition. But I already have the journalistic cache I’ve built up this semester.

  The Wolves column, the level of readership it attainted, and how much my coverage was cited by mainstream media outlets interested in covering the Wolves story, was almost certainly enough to land me a top internship this summer. If I can take full advantage of that, I won’t need to get the assignment again next year. The internship can be used to get my foot in the foot and make connections that can carry me to a good first job when I graduate next year.

  Just waiting until the season is over, giving it a couple weeks, maybe a month, and then beginning to date Luke … that’s something we can do. People will still criticize it, no doubt. But wouldn’t truly violate any tenets of journalistic ethics, because I wouldn’t be writing about Luke or the team anymore at that point. People might whisper that the relationship might have started while I was still writing the article, hell, most might suspect it, but there would be no proof.