Which explained the dreams.
Saturday night, Sunday night, same deal. Bee buzzed in my head all night long. Dancing in those sexy circles around me. I could still taste her, this uniquely Bee taste that reminded me of summer and sunshine. I could feel her tits pressed against me through the fabric of her shirt, her nipples hard as pebbles, her hands running up and down my chest.
And the second I opened my eyes this morning, two shitty things happened.
I realized it was just a dream, and I had the headache from hell after two horrible nights of sleep.
Which was why I headed to the locker room an hour early. I had to work out some of the frustration that was playing on my nerves. I had to find my center, my zen.
I knew I’d be working my legs with her, so I decided to do chest and back. On my third set of bench presses, though, I thought of the way Bee had looked at me, all sexy with her hair falling in her face as she danced, and my cock pulsed. I knew the second she came into the room, it would fight to make its presence known to her. And the second she touched me? I’d be a goner.
Then Bee Mitchell would likely run away screaming.
Shit. I should’ve jacked off before I left the apartment.
I set the weights on the rack, slid out from under them, and hurried to the bathroom, thinking that if it was empty, I might still be able to. My cock swelled just thinking about taking the pressure off…imagining Bee was with me. But wouldn’t you know it, the second I got there, the door opened, and she stepped inside, shaking icy crystals from her dark hair.
She spotted me and immediately blushed.
My cock twitched again and I gritted my teeth. Oh, hell, I was so screwed.
“It’s like, freezing rain out there,” she mumbled, pulling off her jacket. She was wearing a Kappa t-shirt that outlined her tits so perfectly, I could see the barest hint of nipple, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for strength. “I slid all the way here.”
Funny thing was, I hadn’t noticed the weather. It had been spritzing a little when I left home, but I figured after the twenty-some inches of snow Mother Nature had recently dumped on us, a little rain was a nice change of pace. Besides, I’d had other things on my mind.
“You didn’t fall this time?” I said, forcing a grin in hopes of getting things back to familiar footing.
She pressed her lips together. “No. I know, small miracle. I think it only happens when you’re around because—”
“Of the weak knee thing,” I said with a wink. “I get it.”
“Funny, I was going to say because you’re bad luck.” She stuck her tongue out at me and then turned to the therapy table. “We should probably get to it. The weather looks like it’s only going to get worse.”
I nodded and tried to hop on the table without letting on about the monster in my pants, screaming for her attention. I rolled up my sweatpants and Bingo. The second she touched my knee, my pulse quickened, and my cock not only twinged, it thickened. I shifted on the padded bench to try to hide it, but she quickly pulled her hand away, which made me think she had to have noticed.
Then I realized she had goosebumps all over her arm.
She reached into her bag and pulled out some of her supplies, then stared at the ground. I followed her line of vision and didn’t see anything down there except an old wad of gum that had been there so long, it had turned black. Then it hit me that she hadn’t looked me in the eye all this time.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to take this shy routine much longer. She was too damn adorable for her own good.
“The swelling has gone down a little,” she mumbled. “That’s good.”
“Fantastic.”
“You’ve been doing the exercises?”
I grinned, this time for real. She was trying so hard to be professional and businesslike, but I got the feeling one little chink in the façade would send the whole thing crumbling down. I couldn’t help wondering if the reason she hadn’t lifted her gaze higher than my chest was because she’d have to see the mouth she’d kissed the hell out of Saturday night.
“Every day.”
“Well, keep up with them. Then, if all goes well, next week you can move on to some weight-bearing moves in the gym.”
“Thanks, boss,” I said, trying to keep casual. She put her hand on my lower thigh and pushed it toward my chest, testing my flexibility. My cock swelled with every movement of her fingers, and I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the view of her white teeth gnawing on that bottom lip as she concentrated.
I’d taken a bite out of that lip myself and knew exactly how soft and juicy it was.
She started to say something just as a sound rattled across the metal roof. It thundered like a thousand little drummers, marching up there.
She looked at me, eyes wide. Then the lights flickered off.
Underneath us, the emergency generator roared to life, humming so that everything in the room seemed to vibrate. The floodlights sparked on, casting the locker room in a dim white light. I could only see the shadow of her face as she studied the corners of the ceiling. “What’s going on?”
“Ice. It probably knocked down the power lines somewhere.”
Her hands were still on my thigh, and she’d gradually increased the pressure. Now she was squeezing it for dear life. Suddenly she realized what she was doing and let go.
“We better go, before—”
The loudspeaker overhead crackled to life. A disembodied voice boomed, “Please stay where you are. The storm has caused some downed power lines. For your safety, all school buildings are on lockdown until further notice. Again, please stay where you are. Thank you.”
She did that cute nose wrinkle thing. “Ugg.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”
She sighed like it was the end of the world. “For how long? All night?”
Part of me leaped at the thought, but the rest of me knew I wouldn’t get that lucky. “You could do worse. I mean, wouldn’t you rather spend your night with me than the Kappas?” I swung my leg down and patted the bench next to me.
I didn’t have to look at her. I knew she was blushing. Even so, she climbed up onto the bench and sat beside me.
Her stomach growled. “I’m starving. I was finishing a paper all day and didn’t get a chance to make it to the dining hall.”
“Ah,” I said, reaching into my bag and grabbing a candy bar I’d stuffed in there for a post-workout pick-me-up. I opened the wrapper, pulled it apart, and handed one half to her. “Ask and ye shall receive.”
She took a bite. “Snickers. Yum. My favorite.”
I couldn’t resist. “Like me, it really satisfies.”
She snorted, but we were sitting so close on the bench that I could almost feel the electricity from her bare arm, passing to mine. It was so easy, in that quiet, dark room, to think about the other night. I knew from the way her breath hitched that she had to be thinking about it too.
“What was your paper for?” I asked her.
“Foundations of Kinesiology.”
“Ah. Riveting.”
“I like it,” she said, chewing. She popped the last bit into her mouth and started to lick her fingers. “I guess if I’m going to be a doctor, I’d better.”
“Really? You’re going to do…what? Three more years of school?”
“Yeah. Well, plus a residency, and then I want to pursue certification in sports medicine.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I couldn’t keep the dread out of my tone. She could obviously tell that it sounded like a death sentence to me, because she gave me a look.
“What?”
“I guess you could say that school and me don’t go together as well as chocolate and peanuts do,” I replied lightly, finishing my piece of candy.
“Oh. Why?” She cocked her head as if she really cared about the answer to that question.
“Well. Some people would say I have the IQ of a donkey. I like to blame it on dyslexia. Doesn’t rea
lly matter. It just translates to me sucking like a Hoover in the grades department. I can’t wait to blow this joint.”
“Which is why you want to go pro so bad.”
I nodded, rubbing my bum knee on instinct. “Yep. When I was young, the kids in my neighborhood used to play Draft. One of my buddies would be the announcer and call us all up to the front porch, and give us our jerseys. I’d pretend I was being drafted by the Eagles. They were my team, and that was my dream.”
She didn’t say anything. When I looked at her face, I noticed she was wincing, that cute little nose of hers all wrinkled again.
“What?” I asked her, giving her a little nudge with my elbow.
“If you like the Eagles, then you have to know Evan Mitchell,” she said softly.
I let out a snort. “Who doesn’t? He led the league in rushing two years—” I stopped, my mind reeling.
Mitchell. Evan Mitchell. Bee Fucking Mitchell.
“Get the fuck out.”
She looked down at her lap. “Yep.”
“Holy shit. He’s your…?”
She nodded. “Dad.”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d pretty much been sitting next to a celebrity all this time, and I never even knew it. In fact, the jersey I’d been handed all those times I’d played Draft with my friends? It had been a Mitchell jersey. My mom had broken the bank getting me one for Christmas one year because it was all I wanted in the world. I was about to tell Bee all this when I saw the way she was looking at her hands in her lap. And it hit me like a ton of bricks.
He’d been a hero to all of us, but his daughter?
She wasn’t a fan.
All my excitement over finding out about Bee’s connection to my football idol kind of just flattened out. She clearly had issues with him and, suddenly, my lifelong admiration for Evan “The E Train” Mitchell lost a bit of its shine.
“He was a serial cheater, and a crappy parent, among other things,” she admitted, her fingers worrying the piped edge of the table.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Looks like we have something in common after all. My dad was kind of an asshole, too,” I found myself replying, wishing I could put my arm around her and pull her close. “When he bothered to come around.”
She looked up, and finally, for one glorious moment, her eyes met mine. And there was something in those eyes, a hint of gratitude, a hint of understanding, a hint of wanting.
Much more of that, and I’d have to kiss her again. Kiss her silly. And maybe a lot fucking more than that. I leaned closer to Bee, my gaze locked on her mouth.
“Look, Bee, I—”
Then my phone dinged, breaking the spell, and she jerked back, cheeks blazing.
I fished the cell out of my pocket with a muttered growl as I peered down at a text from Renee.
Come over tonight and keep me warm. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.
Shit.
The girl did not take no for an answer. It wasn’t enough when I told her it wasn’t going to happen after I found her hiding in my bed last weekend. It obviously wasn’t enough for her to catch me sucking face with another girl on Saturday. Short of writing WE’RE DONE in Sharpie on her forehead, what else was there?
I made no attempt to hide my phone, and Bee made no attempt to pretend she hadn’t seen the message. “Why don’t you like her?” she asked softly.
I let out a low laugh. “Head games. You know? Saying one thing and then doing another. Not being real. Going off and messing around behind my back and then pretending she did nothing wrong. The list goes on.”
I realized I’d said all that a dozen times when people asked why Renee and I had broken up, but it was just words. For some reason, I felt like telling Bee the truth. “But mostly it’s because she’s not a good person. I don’t like her. She’s selfish, and shallow and petty.”
“Okay,” she said, doing that cute little lip-bite again. I don’t think she expected me to launch into TMI mode at that point. “So I take it that your answer is going to be hell no, then?”
I nodded. “Not that it’ll do any good. I found her hiding in my bed last week.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. The girl is used to getting what she wants. She won’t stop until she has me by the balls.” I sucked in a deep breath. “The only time I actually got myself loose from her was on Saturday, when you and I…you know.”
And there it was again. The blush. “Oh.”
A plan started to root in my mind and once it had, I couldn’t shake it loose. “Do you think you’d be able to do that again? Like, permanently?”
She straightened. “Wait. What?”
I got so excited by the idea that I forgot Bee had a brain and wasn’t just going to jump at the chance just because I was a starting football player. In fact, now that I knew about her dad, that was the very reason for her to run screaming in the other direction.
“I mean, not permanently, obviously. Just for a while. A month or so, tops. Until the season is over so I can get some peace. And I mean, we don’t have to go overboard with the affection shit.”
Unless, of course, she wanted to…
She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh. Affection shit. The horror.” She jumped off the bench as if I had cooties. “Although, speaking of horror, you might want to check into one of those old style insane asylums where they do shock therapy or something, because you’ve lost it. You want me to—”
“Yeah. Just hear me out. If you stick around me and go places with me, eventually she’ll get the idea and screw off. Come on. What do you say?”
It was the perfect plan. Not only would it get Renee off my back, but it would also keep other girls from sniffing around so I could concentrate on getting my knee back in shape. I needed to get back on the field ASAP, and this could only help.
And Bee. More Bee, my subconscious reminded me.
I gave her my pleading, puppy dog eyes in the dim glow of the emergency lights. That look had the power to turn most girls to jelly. But she stared me down and I felt my own limbs gumming up. This was Bee. Bee was different.
Maybe I’d just stunned her speechless, because she stared at me, arms crossed, mouth slightly open, sucking air like a guppy out of water.
“What is Bee short for?” I asked her. Out of the blue, maybe, but I really wanted to know.
She didn’t answer right away. I’d just about assumed it was one of those secrets she’d take to the grave when she muttered, “Belinda.”
Belinda.
I liked it.
But she hadn’t accepted my proposal yet. “Yet” being the operative word. Because, turned out, Renee wasn’t the only one who didn’t like taking no for an answer when she wanted something.
And I wanted this.
Bad.
9
Bee
I didn’t know much, but up until that moment, there were two things I’d always prided myself on being sure of.
One: I’d never date a football player.
And two: I’d sooner set myself on fire than let anyone bamboozle me the way my mom had been bamboozled by my dad.
But apparently all Cal had to do was give me this look, this utterly pathetic, hopeful look, and everything I ever knew or believed was smashed to smithereens in point-two seconds.
I felt hot all over, like I was melting into a puddle of goo at the idea of even pretending to be with Cal.
“Belinda Mitchell,” he said, testing it out in the darkness.
We’d been sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the therapy bench, so close that his arm occasionally brushed mine. Every time that happened, sparks shot down my spine and goosebumps sprouted everywhere. I was so afraid he’d see them that I’d had to scramble away from him.
“I’ve never known a Belinda before. Nice.”
“Well, I hate it,” I grumbled. “It was my dad’s idea. Makes me think of a plump granny or a cartoon fairy godmother.”
“Belinda. Belinda. Belinda.” He tested it more. “No. It�
��s definitely a good name.”
I laughed self-consciously. The truth was, he said it in a way I’d never heard before. He took his time with the N sound, letting it roll off his tongue in a way that sounded almost sexy. It made my whole body buzz.
Mayday, mayday. The USS Bee, going down in flames.
“Nobody calls me that,” I murmured, rubbing those stubborn goosebumps from my arms. “Not even my dad. When I was twelve, he told me he hated my name. He’s always doing that; being impulsive and having buyer’s remorse. I bet he changed his mind the second the ink on the birth certificate dried.”
Cal let out a harsh laugh. “That’s all the more reason to own it, right? Scream it from the rooftops.”
I nodded slowly. Actually, that made sense. For a guy who claimed he had the IQ of a donkey, he seemed pretty smart to me.
But his idea that I could fill in as his girlfriend?
That was dumb.
Dumb, ridiculous, outlandish, and yet…it had my pulse revving like a motor.
“It won’t work, you know,” I said, mostly to shut down my brain. My stupid, preteen brain, which was urging me to jump into his lap at this proposition, like some grateful rescue dog. “Me pretending to be your girl.”
He crossed his arms and frowned. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because…” I said, pausing to give him a chance to fill in the blank with the obvious.
He raised his eyebrows, clueless.
Great, he was going to make me say it out loud?
I gritted my teeth, forcing the words out past the humiliation. “Because no one would believe it. I’m me. And you’re…” I waved my hands in the general direction of all his godly manliness. “You. We’re a total one-eighty.”
He rubbed at his chin as he eyed me thoughtfully. “No, we’re not. We have lots of things in common.”
“Like?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “We both have asshole dads, remember?”
I nodded. Funny, he was the only person on earth who had accepted me at my word on that score, and it made me feel better than it should’ve. People always made concessions for my father. Sure, he drinks a lot, but… Sure, he can’t keep his dick in his pants, but… They gave him a free pass for just about everything. As if the fact that he could palm a fucking ball and run with it outweighed the emotional trauma he’d inflicted on his family.
Score (Skin in the Game Book 1) Page 7
