Misconduct (FSCU Pitbulls Book 1)

by Stella Marie Alden

  “Sure. Let me get a sweater.” She runs into her bedroom, slips on flip flops, and I help her into a soft white cotton sweater.

  My hand brushes against her soft skin and she shivers. Well, damn. She’s just as affected as me. Ain’t that something?

  She has to jog to keep up with me but I can’t be late. “I never got to thank you for the software. It’s really helping.”

  Skipping beside me, she huffs. “You’re welcome. Your writing is actually quite good. You could be an English major.”

  I raise my brows skeptically. Still, it warms my insides. No one’s ever applauded me for anything but football. “I didn’t grow up with a lot of money but I got the same ambitions as you. It’s not the money or the fame, I have to prove to everyone I can make it and I’m so damn close. But, if I take one misstep, my hours of practice and broken bones will be for nothing.”

  She nods thoughtfully as I break into a sweat. We’ve just connected in a way I didn’t think possible and it scares the shit out of me.

  “When did you start? Playing football?” Holding my arm, she tries to catch my gaze.

  “I was five, maybe younger. I played with my older brother. He sucked.” I grin.

  “So, you’re rivals?”

  “Not really. He’s the smart one, a Harvard lawyer. I’m the dumb one.”

  I meant it as a joke but her brows furrow. “You’re not dumb. I never knew anyone who could make up a limerick on the spot.”

  Laughing, the mood turns light. “There’s not a lot of jobs listed on the internet with that particular skill.”

  “Probably not.” She giggles and loops her arm in mine tighter, like we’re a thing. Damn if that don’t make my heart thump.

  “My brother used to get so pissed. It killed him I had a skill, other than sports, I could beat him at.”

  “You guys see each other much?”

  “Holidays, you know how it is.” It’s the line I use with everyone and it usually works.

  “Don’t get along, huh?” Holy shit, she’s a mind reader. Someday she’ll be a hell of a reporter.

  She explains further. “Me and my younger sister just click but it’s different with my older one.

  She jogs to keep up and frowns when I glance down at my clock app. “Sorry. The coach is a real stickler for being prompt.”

  I stop at the door to the gymnasium with the rumble of thunder in the distance. “Better hurry on home.”

  “Yeah.” Her necks stretches when she stares up at the dark clouds gathering. “Umm. This was nice. I really like talking to you.”

  I’ve had women praise me for my incredible fucking skills and men for my prowess on the field. No one has ever given me kudos for chit-chatting. That’s twice in about as many minutes she’s sucked the air out of me.

  When I kiss her, it’s confusing as hell. Not only is my cock engaged but something in my chest twangs, like chains breaking free. I take a deep breath, say goodbye, and make it to practice just in time.

  After we go over our game, I hang back, and catch Coach’s ear. “Hey, CJ.”

  “What’s on your mind?” He smiles and motions for me to sit.

  “A couple of things.” I don’t even know where to start. I don’t want Jackson kicked off the team but even more, I don’t want him getting killed.

  I think better of ratting out my friend. Somehow, I’ll help him out of this jam. “I’m worried about the next game.”

  CJ sits back in a chair and leans back. “Why?”

  Shit. Now I’m committed so I tell him the first thing that comes to mind. “Kira.”

  “The redhead in the pep band?”

  I nod.

  “I thought you and I agreed girlfriends are a distraction you can’t afford right now.” His mouth turns down.

  “You got married.” It comes out like an accusation.

  “Not until I was ready to quit, start a family.” He shakes his head and smiles. “Mel was something else.”

  “Your wife sure is beautiful.”

  “And the best physical therapist around.”

  “That too, sir. So, ah, how did you know she was the one?”

  He stares far off, eyes soft. “I couldn’t take my eyes off from her and if she was unhappy, I’d do anything to make it right.”

  “Well, I guess I got a real problem, sir.”

  “Let me ask you this. Is it more distracting to have her in your life or out of it?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No contest.”

  “Then go get her, son, and figure out how to keep her. You got a championship to win.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Chapter 10

  Kira

  The sharp lightning is the cloud to ground kind. So, after our walk, I hang around in the gym. I’d use the treadmill but it’s not so good to do in flip flops. Instead, I find a mat in a corner and stretch. A couple of cheerleaders are here, too and I try to avoid their cattiness.

  The blond from the bus stretches and throws me a look. “I don’t know what Ryan sees in her.”

  Embarrassed and more than a little angry, I decide a little rain won’t hurt. On the way home, I get time to think.

  When he pounded on my door, he was different tonight, not so sure of himself. Certain I was about to get an earful, I was primed to give it back. He let the model fondle him and could’ve easily stepped away. It wouldn’t’ve been so hard. Right?

  On the other hand, we’re not dating. We’re not anything. I got no dibs on him. We slept together, I’m his tutor, and maybe, just maybe, we’re friends.

  After tonight, I’m not so sure.

  If we’re friends, is sex is off the table? I think back to how he shivered when we linked arms and how he flexed his bicep to hold me there. I felt safer than I have since getting roofied.

  At the thought of that fateful night, I fight for lost memories. I keep hoping they’ll show up but they never do. I recall waking up in the hospital and how the police refused to do anything. I lean against a building and tears start pouring down my cheeks, mixing with the rain. Once I start, I can’t stop.

  I have no idea what happened that night and even though creepy Ed swears he did nothing, what if he touched me? I know the hospital said I wasn’t attacked so why am I so damn sad?

  Sobbing, I pick up my phone and dial the campus hotline. “I can’t do this.”

  “Hi hun. Do what?” The voice is warm, reassuring.

  “Pretend nothing happened.”

  “Pretending is hard to do.”

  “It is. Damned hard.”

  “Can I ask what we’re talking about?”

  These intense feelings threaten to overwhelm me. “I got roofied. You see. That’s the problem. I have no idea what I’m talking about either. There’s this big hole in my memory I will never get back and I have no idea what happened and just because the police say nothing happened and the hospital says nothing happened… but something fucking happened! You know what I mean?”

  “Sure do. Tell me more.”

  I sit on a curb and spill my guts in the rain until I’m spent. After, the woman texts me a number of a group I can go to with other women who have been sexually assaulted. But I wasn’t. I was one of the lucky ones and still, I’m so damn miserable. I wander back to my apartment, take a hot shower, and then get started on my assignment. I wanted to do an expose on date rape, but I see how it hits too close to home. Better I stick with how some privileged kids get into college with the help of a b’zillion bucks.

  Tomorrow comes too soon and it’s my turn to give a speech in class. Funny, I’ve done podcasts for hundreds of listeners and it didn’t make me anywhere near as nervous.

  Ryan, sitting next to me, holds up a tablet with his grade. He got a B on his last assignment. He’s grinning like a kid and it makes me all warm inside to know I had a small part in his success.

  We all get seated and the professor calls on me. He says to make our speeches personal so we can connect with the listener. He expects u
s to do this in five minutes with no PowerPoints and no mics to hide behind.

  I step up to the front of the class. Most have already given a speech and so are no longer strangers. I have a tiny glimpse into their lives. One guy likes fishing, another had a mother die from cancer, and one girl misses her life in India.

  I clear my throat, sweat running down my sides, and try to picture everyone naked. Of course, this thought brings only Ryan to mind.

  “My first day of band camp, I went to the swimming pool with my friends…”

  I stop and take a deep breath. “That was the speech I was going to give but I think I’m going to give another.”

  I turn to the professor. “Can I start again?”

  He nods.

  “Two weeks ago, I was at a party, drank out of a bottle of water, and was drugged. I wasn’t drinking, I wasn’t partying, and I had no intention of sleeping with anyone. I woke up in the hospital and to this day, can’t recall anything from the sip of water to the moment I was in the emergency room. I do remember how embarrassed I was when the doctor gave me an exam to see if I was raped. I remember the relief once he said I wasn’t. I remember having to call my mother and how freaked out she was, along with my family. Then, I remember, more than anything, feeling profoundly ashamed.

  They told me I was in a stranger’s bedroom, that I had gone there of my own free will. If one of my friend’s hadn’t been looking for me, my story would be very different. You might think the police would’ve arrested someone, but no. They said there were too many students, too many suspects. Do you know how often this happens? Neither do they because most women don’t report date rape. Know why? It usually happens because they’ve been drinking and they think they blacked out from too much alcohol. This is exactly what these sick-o perpetrators are hoping for. And it’s not just women, my friends. I got lucky, will you?”

  I sit, wondering if I was too personal. After some silence, Ryan claps, and a flag girl stands, applauding with tears in her eyes.

  The professor, obviously moved, clears his throat. “And that, students, is how it is done. Nice job, Ms. McKenzie.”

  Knees still shaking, I somehow find my chair and sit. Ryan scoots his across the aisle so he can hold my hand.

  “That was brave.”

  “Really?” My stomach churns but getting it all out it the open lifts off some of the baggage I’ve been carrying around.

  At the end of class, Ryan pulls me aside. “The team has the weekend after next off. Go out with me?”

  After last night, something has changed with our relationship. I want more so I nod and he gives me a big Texas grin.

  We text back and forth almost every day and when Friday comes, I pull out my clothes and moan.

  Star laughs at my wardrobe and comes out with a tight black dress, part cotton, part spandex. “This’ll wow him.”

  I imagine his hands on the hem, pulling it over my head, and dropping it on the floor. Even though we haven’t made love since band camp, thoughts of him keep me awake at night.

  I’ve decided if he breaks my heart, so be it. It was Tennyson who said ‘better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.’ I sure hope he knew what he was talking about.

  Star does my face and makeup. Instead of trying to tame my red waves, she sprays on mousse and makes them into ringlets. With green shadow and liner, my eyes pop. I borrow impossibly high heels and squeeze into her black dress. As a sexy second thought, I completely leave off wearing panties.

  In the living room, Gillian looks up and applauds our work. When the doorbell rings. I wipe my damp hands on the back of my dress, and open.

  Ryan’s mouth drops open, he eyes me up and down, and whistles softly through his teeth. “Holy shit.”

  “I could say the same, cowboy.” I swallow hard, taking him in.

  In a close-fitting suit, crisp white shirt, and an amber tie that matches his eyes, Ryan could make any woman swoon. My gorgeous man pulls out an orchid, places it on my wrist, and he blushes.

  “You don’t need to wear it. It’s a bit corny, right?”

  I reach my hands behind his neck and kiss, cheek to cheek. “I love flowers. I would show you but I’ll get lipstick all over your face.”

  “Later.” He winks, takes my arm, and says to Star and Gillian, “Y’all have a nice evening. Don’t expect her back tonight.”

  I wobble a little on the damn heels, his hands slide around my waist, then down my butt.

  He rests there for a moment, patting my ass.

  “You not wearing panties, Kira?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” Surprised he noticed so soon, I wink as he moans and opens the passenger door for me.

  “How about we skip dinner and go right to dessert?”

  “That’s the best you got?”

  “Want a limerick?”

  “You couldn’t possibly…”

  “Give me a second.” He gets behind the wheel of his Corvette, guns the engine, and squeals his tires.

  On the highway, he glances across the seat. “We’re going to Charlotte. Okay?”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  He turns on a little country music and hums but I know he’s thinking.

  “I knew it. You don’t make them up on the fly. You got a few memorized, right?”

  He laughs, “Oh no, you don’t get to make that kind of call. Here goes:

  A player from FSCU

  Scored once and thought he was through

  The girl stole his heart

  Then tore him apart

  And now he knows not what to do.”

  “Not bad, but not as good as your others.”

  He grins and winks. “Well, in my defense, I am a bit distracted.”

  In the restaurant, the waiter pours our wine, then we chat up a storm. I haven’t seen him for days and stored up everything I want to share. I talk about Knight, my journalism final, my band practice, and how my younger sister is driving me crazy.

  He shares how his brother is getting some award and his parents are annoyed he can’t come.

  By the time our meal comes I’m so eager to make love, I can’t eat. His hand reaches across the table and his leg stretches until his feet reach mine.

  When I put my fork down, he takes my hand, “I need to tell you something.”

  “One and done?” This time I’m prepared.

  He closes his eyes, brows scrunched like I punched him. “No, Kira. Not this time. I need to hear you say you want more than one night.”

  “Well, to be accurate, tonight will make two.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “What about I’m all about football?” I put air tics around the last part of my question.

  “That still holds true.”

  “So, I don’t understand. What is it, exactly, you’re asking?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. I want you around and not as my friend and I don’t want you seeing other guys.” He says it like I’ve got men lined up at my doorstep, waiting to ask me out and I can’t help but chuckle at the visual.

  His jaw tics and I grab his hand, trying to explain why I’m laughing. “Ryan, oh my God, there’s been no one since I first laid eyes on you.”

  “What about Hollywood?”

  “Knight? No way. What about you? You willing to be all mine? And I mean no kissing boobalicious models with roving fingertips.”

  He grins. “I guess I can keep a can of mace nearby.”

  “Make sure you do.” I stand and pull down my tight dress while he watches, eyes wide.

  Not even waiting for the check, he throws a wad of bills on the table and, with a hand to my lower back, rushes us to the fancy hotel next door.

  Inside, all eyes turn to him, then to me, so I ask, “Why are they staring?”

  “Because Ryan Finnegan, number one NFL draft, has the most gorgeous creature on the planet in his arms.” He stops in front of the elevator, pushes the button, and takes me into his arms. We’re stil
l kissing as we climb and don’t stop, not even when the door opens for someone else to get on.

  “We’ll wait.” An elderly man chuckles and holds his wife’s hand. “Remember what that was like, dear?”

  The door shuts, Ryan clamps me tighter between his firm thighs, and cups my cheek with his palms. I slip my hands to the back of his neck, loving how the soft ends feel between my fingertips.

  The elevator dings, he lifts me into his arms, and carries me to the room. Then, he sets me down with an arm tight around my waist, as if I might disappear.

  While he inserts the key card, I untuck his shirt, those amazing muscles quivering under my touch. The light on the lock turns green, the door clicks, and he kicks open the door. Inside, I’m lifted into the air and placed on the bed. Kneeling over me, he pulls the spandex dress up to my waist.

  A sharp hiss comes from him. “Kira… Not even a thong?”

  My nub swells at his hot gaze and warm liquid coats my core.

  Quickly, he turns, locks the door, and throws his suitcoat on a chair. Shirt and tie come off, followed by shoes, socks, and trousers.

  Mesmerized, by his Olympic form, my mouth waters as a condom rolls over his length. He crawls up my body like a large cat, his thick cock bobbing against my leg. His lips find my mouth, my hands dig into his soft hair, and he thrusts his tongue in to explore. The invasion is thorough and maddeningly slow, as if we have all the time in the world.

  I press my knee up, he moans into my mouth, and pulls me on top of him.

  On my knees, I pull the dress over my head and bare myself to him.

  “Fucking perfect.” His hands reach up to cup my breasts, his cock pointing, and he caresses me until my tips go hard.

  Then, with both hands at my waist he slides me up his body. His teeth find a nipple, he gently clamps down, and pleasure tugs at my clit. In response to my moaning, he nibbles, sucks, and licks me with his tongue. Everything inside me goes tight and I wonder if I’ll cum.

  I spread my legs wide, and rub my wet want into his abs. My swollen clit is needy and wanting but I can’t quite get off. Firm palms pull me up and I’m thrilled at the thought of him piercing me this way but instead he places me onto my back.