His lips curve into a smile, and when he opens his eyes, there’s a wicked gleam that almost makes me reconsider my position on morning sex. Because, world’s best orgasms. But, no. I have to stay strong. One night with the guy isn’t going to turn me into some sex-addled nympho. I do have some self-control.
Just keep telling yourself that.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, yourself.” I roll out of bed—determined to prove sex with the cocky QB hasn’t short-circuited my brain—and grab a pair of pajamas from my dresser. I tug the shorts on before pulling the tank top over my head. No time to worry about bed head or bad breath. I’ve got to get him out of here before Becca sees him. When I turn around, Austin’s still lying in bed, the sheet covering all his best parts. Bummer. “Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty. Time to rise and shine or whatever it is you do on a Sunday morning.”
“I usually like to sleep in.” He locks his hands behind his head, looking way too comfortable in my bed. “Maybe spend the day in bed,” he says, wiggling his brows.
“So not happening.” I shoot him a dark look. “Unless you want the whole campus knowing what happened last night, you need to get up and get out of here before Becca sees you.”
That gets his attention. He sits up, dropping his feet to the floor with a leisurely grace I will forever associate with ballet lessons.
“You can go out the window or you can go out the door, but you have to go now.”
“One small problem.”
One? More like half a dozen, but who’s counting? There’s another thump from Becca’s room. I crack the door to the hall, relief flooding my veins. The coast is clear. For now. When I turn around, Austin’s just standing there in his boxer briefs—which leave little to the imagination—staring at me with a bemused expression and a wicked case of bed head. Or maybe it’s sex hair. I seem to remember running my fingers through it last night. Either way, one thing’s clear. He’s not budging.
He hooks a thumb toward the window, cocky grin securely back in place. “We’re on the second floor.”
“Good point.” I scoop up his clothes from the foot of the bed and thrust them into his arms. “Front door it is,” I whisper, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the hall. He’s still not moving fast enough for my liking, so I slip around behind him and give him a little shove, scooting him toward the front door even as he protests.
Funny thing about whispered protests: they’re ineffective.
Mostly.
“I’m just saying, this gives new meaning to the walk of shame.” He turns and leans in close, grabbing a strand of my hair and twisting it around his fingers. “I feel so used.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Guilt rears its ugly head, but I shut that bitch down. Becca cannot find Reid in the apartment again. Especially half-naked. She will never believe the old “nothing happened” lie and even though I’m ninety-nine and a half percent sure she’d never spill the tea, it’s a chance I can’t take. Coach would have a shit fit if he caught wind of this, and I don’t even want to think about my mom’s reaction because I’m pretty sure only cockroaches could survive the fallout.
Which is why Austin’s got to go.
I can cross the living room in ten steps when I’m late for class (which is often), but with my one-night stand dragging his heels, it feels like twenty. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he wants to get caught. When we finally reach the door, I release the deadbolt, wincing at the loud thwack! I glance back to confirm Becca’s door is still shut; then I open the door and gesture for him to hurry up.
“What? No goodbye kiss?” he teases, stepping out onto the cement walkway that connects all the second-floor apartments.
I blow him a kiss and shut the door without another word. The sun’s shining and there are birds singing somewhere nearby, but it’s the sound of Austin’s low chuckle that pierces me as I drop my forehead to the door and count to ten.
Once I’m sure we’re in the clear, I climb onto the couch and peek out the front window. Austin hasn’t bothered to put his clothes on, so I’ve got a nice view of his ass. Apparently when you’ve got a giant package, walking around the complex in your underwear is no big deal. Two girls approach from the opposite direction, giggling as they pass him by. His steps don’t falter and even though his back is to me, I know he’s giving them that cocky QB grin, because only Austin Reid could pull off the walk of shame in his underwear.
Not that it matters since last night’s hookup was a onetime deal.
Chapter Fifteen
Austin
I barely make it to study hall on time, not that anyone’s taking attendance. Still, I’m the team captain, and it doesn’t look good to be sliding in late. Football players get plenty of exceptions on campus, but gaming the system isn’t my style.
It’s not the kind of example I want to set for the guys.
When I drop my bag at the table next to Coop, I scan the room, trying to be subtle as I search for Kennedy. She’s been avoiding me since our hookup. Which makes no sense. The sex was incredible. No way she wasn’t satisfied. Hell, she came four times. Granted, she was pretty freaked out about the sleepover. Can’t say I blame her there. I’ve never spent the night with a woman before, but it’s no big deal. We’re both mature adults. And I can’t say I hated falling asleep with her curves tucked against my body.
“Did you bring food?” Parker asks. “I’m starving.”
“No. I had a mandatory meeting with my advisor.” The uptight dick is one of the few profs on campus who isn’t exactly falling all over himself to accommodate the football program. I’m pretty sure he purposely assigned me a meeting time that would conflict with football practice and when I asked for a different time slot, he refused. But the guys don’t need to know my advisor’s a prick or that I missed dinner. They’ve got their own shit to deal with. “No time to stop.”
“First Carter blows us off.” Coop tips his chair back on two legs, arms crossed over his chest. “And now you forget the snacks. I’m not really feeling the love, brother.”
“Feel this,” I say, giving him the one-finger salute. “I’m your captain, not your nanny.”
“Kind of the same thing, don’t you think?”
Parker snickers, but I ignore him and unpack my bag. I toss a few notebooks on the table and find a slightly bruised apple buried at the bottom of my bag. Thank Christ. I’m starving. I take my seat and devour the apple in a half-dozen bites as I flip through my notes for this week’s sports marketing midterm.
I last a whole thirty minutes before I give up. What’s the point of midterms anyway? We’re going to see all the same material on the final in six weeks. Talk about redundant. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop thinking about the other night with Kennedy. She’s totally messing with my head. It’s a distraction I can’t afford. On the field or in the classroom.
I slap my notebook closed and roll my shoulders.
I’ll take a break and try again. Maybe I just need to stretch my legs. Or maybe I just need to talk to Kennedy, who’s racing out the door like her hair’s on fire, bag slung over her shoulder.
“Be right back.” I climb to my feet and head for the door, forcing myself to keep a leisurely pace, eyes pinned to her back. I follow her down the steps and finally catch up with her on the first floor.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, matching her stride and falling in step with her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She adjusts her bag and looks around, guilt plain as day on her face. “I’m just busy with practice and midterms and…stuff.”
“Stuff? Is that a technical term?” I grab her elbow and steer her toward an empty stack. She looks like she wants to protest, but she just presses her lips into a thin line.
“Football players.” She huffs an exasperated sigh. “Should’ve known you’d go all caveman if I ignored you.”
“So you admit you’ve been ignoring me?” I ask, grinning because I know I’ve got her now.<
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“What do you want, Austin?”
She says my name like it’s a blessing and a curse and I gotta admit it’s a huge fucking turn-on. “I just want to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “We had sex. It was nice. It can never happen again.”
“Nice?” Not gonna lie. I don’t hear anything she says after the word nice. “Flowers are nice. The weather is nice.” I take a step closer. We’re toe to toe now. It wouldn’t take much to sweep her into my arms, those perky tits pressed against me as I erase the word nice from her vocabulary with my mouth. My heart thunders in my chest, but I can’t tell if it’s from her dismissive attitude or the closeness of our bodies. “What we had? There was nothing nice about it. It was hot and dirty and explosive.”
She swallows and I can tell it takes some effort, her throat bobbing delicately. “I think you’re missing the point here.” She does one of those sexy little eye rolls and her lips tilt down at the corners. Damn if I don’t want to kiss them. “Coach forbade it. And you know how I feel about football players. Besides, we’re teammates. It’s a bad freaking idea all around. Just no.”
She’s not wrong.
There are a lot of people counting on us. If it goes to shit, it could impact the team, and there’s no way in hell I’d do anything that could damage the team’s playoff hopes or my own career. I’ve worked too hard for too long. Hell, Coach would have my ass if he knew I was sleeping with Kennedy. But here’s the thing. I’ve dedicated my whole life to football. I play by the rules. I’m a good role model. A good teammate. I bust my ass day in and day out. So why can’t I have this one thing?
“Just hear me out,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. One, because I don’t know what to do with them. Two, to hide the chub that’s growing in my pants. “I know you aren’t into ball players, and let’s be honest, we’d be a terrible match.” The words feel like ash on my tongue, but I can’t take them back now. Besides, the insinuation that she’s not my type seems to have captured her attention. There’s fire sparking in her eyes, and I’m not above using it to my advantage. Even if the real truth is that the only relationship I have the time and energy for is football. “But we have blistering chemistry, so why shouldn’t we take what we need from each other?”
She wrinkles her brow. “I don’t—” She pauses. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting neither of us has the time or interest in a real relationship, but we both have needs. Think about it,” I say, pitching my voice low and stepping farther into her personal space. Her breath hitches in her throat. “No strings. Lots of chemistry. Matching schedules. Totally convenient.”
She tilts her head to the side, her expression giving nothing away. I can’t tell if she’s considering my proposal or if she’s thinking about kicking me in the balls for suggesting such a crazy idea. Doesn’t matter. Now that I’ve had a taste of her—of the fiery passion behind all the snark and sarcasm—there’s no going back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Sometimes less is more, even though I’d grovel at her feet right now if it meant getting back into her bed.
She chews her bottom lip, thinking it over. Her lids become heavy and my cock does a victory dance. Ten to one she’s thinking about Saturday night and the four orgasms I gave her. Probably a first. Most guys don’t have that kind of stamina.
Just one more perk of being a hard-bodied athletic specimen.
“And this will stay between you and me? Coach can’t find out.”
“Naturally. No one can know.”
“And nothing else changes between us? I’m just one of the guys, and we call it quits at the end of the season or when one of us gets tired of the arrangement?”
Like that’s gonna happen. “Exactly.”
She twists a strand of hair around her finger. “If we do this, there can’t be anyone else. If you want to hook up with some jersey chaser—”
“Kennedy.” I hook a finger under her chin and force her to look up at me. “It goes without saying that if we’re sleeping together, there won’t be anyone else.” I don’t add that the idea of her getting naked with another guy makes me want to throttle something.
“Okay.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but okay. Let’s do it.”
My dick takes the invitation literally, rising to full mast, and an idea takes hold. “You know, I could drive you home tonight. I’ve got the Jeep.”
She sighs. “Sex only, remember? Just one of the—” I can see it the moment she realizes I’m offering to make her fantasy come true, because a slow smile spreads over her face and her pupils dilate despite the bright lights of the library. “You know, come to think of it, I could use a ride.”
Kennedy
Dammit. I glare at my laptop, frustration taking root. Why isn’t this stupid equation balancing? I must be missing something. I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a breath. Getting pissed isn’t going to solve the problem, but it might get me kicked out of study hall. I’ll just have to go back to the beginning and check my figures. I must’ve made a mistake somewhere along the way.
Maybe I miskeyed one of the numbers.
God knows I’ve been distracted. This whole teammates-with-benefits arrangement Austin proposed is equal parts guilt and pleasure. I peek up at him from under my lashes. A backward ball cap covers his dark hair, and he’s wearing a navy Waverly tee that hugs his broad shoulders. He taps his pencil on a notebook, and I watch with rapt attention as the muscles in his bicep jump. The man oozes sex, and I find myself counting down the minutes until our next hookup.
Guilt heats my cheeks and I tear my gaze from the sexy QB, forcing myself to look down at my notes even as the numbers swim before my eyes. Because, yeah, sex with Austin really is that good. It doesn’t help that I’m new to this whole casual-sex thing and still figuring out the rules. Like, no staring at the man candy during study hall. I’m no prude, but I was in committed relationships with both of the guys I slept with in the past.
And look how well that turned out.
Still, I hate lying to Becca and my mom, even if it’s a lie of omission. But at least I’m keeping my promise not to get involved with a football player. Because what Austin and I have? It’s purely physical. No hearts and no heartache. Just sex. The hot, sweaty, pulse-pounding kind. I don’t expect anything from him.
Aside from mind-blowing orgasms, anyway.
Who knew having a dirty little secret could be such a turn-on?
Just the thought of Austin’s touch sends a thrill pulsing through my veins. Which is probably why I can’t balance this equation. I push all thoughts of Austin from my brain and redouble my efforts to find the mistake in my work. I need to finish top three in the ACME competition, which will be impossible if my calculations are crap.
I’m halfway through the validation process when my phone starts vibrating. I know without looking that it’s distraction number two: my dad. He’s been texting me around this time every night for the last three days. What part of I don’t want to see you doesn’t he understand? I grab a pencil and scratch out some notes, feeling like an asshole for ignoring him. I mean, I know he’s the asshole, but apparently there’s still some small part of me that holds out hope. I sigh. This would be so much easier if he’d just fade to black.
After all, that’s been his MO the last twenty-one years.
The phone buzzes again and the pencil in my hand snaps in half.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I rifle through my bag for another and come up empty. Before I can ask one of the guys for a spare, Austin reaches across the table and offers me his.
“Need some help?” he asks, giving me that infuriatingly sexy smirk as he gestures to the problem I’ve been working on for the last fifteen minutes.
“Nope. I’ve got it covered.” I snatch the pencil from his hand. “Unless of course you’re an expert in differential equations?”<
br />
“Who says I’m not?” He arches a brow, indignation etched in the lines of his face. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”
I roll my eyes, but the guys burst out laughing, drawing the ire of the study group at the next table. If looks could kill, Waverly’s starting lineup would be short two All-Americans, one Heisman contender, and one genuinely nice guy.
“Dude, you’ve been spending too much time with Coop,” Vaughn says, slapping him on the back. “You might want to tone it down before Media Day or Coach’ll have an aneurism.”
Austin shrugs, his eyes locked on mine. “Figured maybe you could use some help.”
I smile, although it feels tight and awkward. “Just because we’re”—I catch myself before the words sleeping together pop out—“on the same team, doesn’t mean you get to stick your nose in my business.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “And you’re right. I’m no expert on differential equations, but I know someone who is. If you’d like a second pair of eyes to look over that before you make yourself crazy.” He nods toward the hot mess that is my notes.
I sigh. “Is it that obvious I’m about to go full Hulk?”
He ignores the question—smart guy—and counters with one of his own. “Is that a yes?”
“Sure.” I flop back in my chair and toss the pencil on the table. I’ve still got a crap ton of work to do. No sense letting my pride stand in the way of solving one stupid equation, even if it grates.
Austin’s eyes remain fixed on me as he calls over his shoulder, “Hey, Gonzalez, got a minute?”
My gaze shoots a few tables over, where a guy I don’t know but recognize from practice springs to his feet, apparently too happy to do the captain’s bidding. My phone buzzes again and I shut it off. One distraction at a time.
Gonzalez’s eyes sweep the table as he approaches, hands tucked into his pockets. He’s got a dark, serious vibe and lacks the swagger the other guys wear like war paint. I like him instantly.
Claiming Carter (Waverly Wildcats Book 1) Page 16
