by Marie James
Charity sighs beside me, pulling me from the mental images of guys in shirtless tuxedos. “I’d give my entire trust fund to play the hoop game with the starting lineup of the football team.”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out of my mouth. “You don’t have a trust fund,” I remind her.
She shrugs. “If I did, I’d totally arrange something like that, but they’d be naked.”
A knowing smile reaches across her cheeks. All is right in her world since she finally hooked up with one of the players at the championship celebration.
Just thinking of the party I refused to attend brings flashes of Blaze to mind—the way he showed up unannounced on my doorstep, the way he kissed me without a word, the way he insisted I was his. Stupid caveman. Who acts like that? Sure, I’ve found it hot on more than one occasion in books I’ve read, but those men don’t exist in real life.
As if thinking about him conjures him from the ether, I turn my head to see the man of the hour sauntering toward me. The sexy tilt at the right corner of his mouth makes me tingle in a place I won’t even acknowledge in his presence—in anyone’s presence. Self-assurance and narcissism may be hot between the covers of a novel, but it’s coming across as undesirable douchiness at the moment.
His promise from last week sparks in my mind as he closes the distance. I don’t know whether the group of women I’m standing with stop talking or my brain shuts out all sound, but silence fills my ears, only allowing the thunderous pounding of my heart to be heard.
I hold my hands up to ward him off. More than once, he’s taken liberties without consent. It has to stop at some point, and today seems as good a time as any. Feeling like someone’s mission and toy may have its self-esteem building qualities, but going down any kind of path with a bad boy always ends in heartbreak and betrayal.
Only…he doesn’t heed my outward unwillingness to participate in whatever he has in mind. He clasps my hands in his and presses his soft, warm lips to mine. I whimper, half in feigned surprise and half in need, allowing his tongue to slip in and wrangle with mine.
Mint from his toothpaste fills my mouth and the earthy, manly scent of his cologne assaults my nose. My eyes flutter closed of their own volition, all thoughts of denying him evaporating around us. With a sudden show of power, my hands are swung behind my back, a clear display of domination. I wiggle my hands and his grip loosens a fraction. Knowing he’d allow me out of this position if it were what I truly wanted almost causes me to stumble backward. What I won’t evaluate is why I’m leaning into him rather than pulling away. I don’t question why my neck cranes further when he begins to soften the kiss.
Deep lashes of his tongue turn into soft pecks as he presses his body against mine from shoulders to knees. His lips turn up into a smile against mine and reality slams back into me. My other senses rise, flooding my ears with the snickering and gasps from my cluster of friends. As ridiculous as it seems, my eyes open and the world around me seems brighter, colors fresher, vibrant even.
He releases my hands, and I miss his touch immediately. Forgetting to be agitated by him once again taking something that wasn’t offered, I watch his back as he walks away. The sun beams down, reflecting off the thick blond strands of his hair, and I focus on that briefly, until the tightness of his low-slung jeans pulling against his thighs demands all my attention.
“Damn,” Laura gasps beside me. “That even turned me on.”
Charity’s palm slaps against my shoulder, but I don’t acknowledge her until he turns the corner near the math and science building and disappears.
“What the fuck is going on?” Charity mutters. I turn my head toward her, noticing widened eyes and a mouth slightly agape. “You’ve been holding out on the details with him.”
Disappointment fills her voice, and I begin to feel guilty even though I gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of what happened while she was at the party. It’s not my fault she was more concerned about telling me how she rode the cornerback like he was the last horse in existence.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her.
“That was not nothing,” Carlie interjects, verbalizing the words I knew were about to be spoken by my closest friend.
“Are you playing hard to get or something?” Charity questions, unable to wrap her head around the fact that I’m not falling at his feet or skipping class to chase after him.
“I’m not playing anything. He’s too egotistical to take no for an answer,” I explain, though the effort is futile.
“You kissed him back,” Laura whispers, blowing at the strand of hair once again.
I shrug, because honestly, what can I say? I don’t know how to explain the way the world fades around me when his lips are on mine.
“He’s a good kisser,” I justify. Looking at the time on my cell phone, I realize I have two minutes to get to class. Being late on the first day of a degree-required class isn’t the best impression—definitely not one I want to make. “I have to get to class.”
I feel their eyes on my back, stunned at my nonchalance as I walk up the steps to enter the building. I know I’m going to catch shit from Charity later. I saw it in her eyes when she was letting the other girls speak for her, but I can’t focus on that right now.
The first hour after Blaze Porter kissed me in front of God and country, I try to pay attention to the professor as she explains the syllabus and her expectation for the class, but I fail—epically. For the first time in the two and a half years I’ve been in college, I can’t recall a thing as the other students gather their belongings and shuffle toward the door.
A quick glance down tells me exactly where my focus has been. Little drawn footballs and various forms of Blaze’s initials mark the outside of the green folder I chose specifically for this finance class. I’ve regressed to a middle school girl with a crush. Disgusted with myself over the mental real estate I’ve subconsciously given the quarterback, I rise from my seat and toss the graffitied folder in the trash as I exit the classroom.
I demand my brain to focus on my other classes, and for the most part, I succeed. I caught myself more than once as my mind wandered back to this morning, even stopping myself twice as my fingers raised to my lips, his kiss still lingering.
Entirely over this day, I make my way off campus toward my apartment. People I don’t even know wave to say hi. Two different people stop me to ask how my day is going. The attention is nerve wracking and only gets worse when a trio of girls sneer at me as I walk by. If their head-to-toe orange and white wardrobes are any indication, I’d guess they are huge football fans—or, more specifically, football player fans.
A single kiss at a party and another in public and I’ve somehow managed to be exactly where I never wanted to be again. I’ve never been comfortable in the spotlight, but knowing I’m there because of a love-them-and-leave-them type of guy is beyond unnerving. The number of people who have an opinion now will at least quadruple when he moves on to the next willing victim.
Charity is waiting on the couch when I open the door to our apartment. Avoiding this conversation isn’t an option, especially since she’s sitting with her legs crisscrossed on the sofa and the TV isn’t even on for background noise.
“Spill,” she demands.
Sighing, I toss my backpack on a stool at the small breakfast bar serving as our dining room and plop down beside her on the sofa.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I insist.
“Nice try,” she grumbles, turning her body toward mine. The scrutiny of her gaze nearly burns my skin. “That man walked up to you, and without a word, planted one of the hottest kisses I’ve never experienced on your lips. That’s not nothing.”
“He said he was going to, I just didn’t think he was serious,” I mumble, looking down at my hands.
“He told you? You said he kissed you and you slapped him. You made me believe that was the end of it.” I glance back up at her. The indignant way she crosses her arms over her chest is enough to mak
e my blood boil.
I sigh and begin to explain, not that she deserves an explanation, but because I refuse to allow another guy to come between me and my friends.
“He said,” I make air quotes; “‘I’m going to kiss you every time I see you until you realize you’re mine’.”
“And you…what? Just thought that wasn’t a big deal?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I argue.
“It is a big deal!” The screech of her voice is the proverbial straw breaking the camel’s back.
“To you!” I respond, my voice higher than I intend for it to be. I stand from the couch, unable to sit here and allow her to make something out of nothing. “Some jock trying to get in my pants is the last thing I need, Charity. If he’s so awesome, maybe you should fuck him!”
I turn on my heel and head to my room, frustration over her not supporting me in my decision to stay away from all things Blaze Porter and the fact that my body craves him filling my head as I walk away. If I don’t leave it for now, I know I’ll say something I’ll regret later.
“I tried!”
Her words stop me in my tracks, and I snap my head around to face her again. “Excuse me?”
My voice is loaded with venom at her confession. I’m disappointed, but mostly in myself. My attraction to Blaze was something I was doing my best to keep close to my chest.
I watch for infinite seconds as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Jealousy and betrayal burn through my veins, unwarranted.
“At the party,” she explains. “You told me you weren’t interested.”
My silence forces her to continue.
“I figured he was fair game.” She shrugs casually, even though she has to know she’d be freaking out right now if the shoe were on the other foot. “Don’t worry. Even with no shirt or bra on, all he was interested in was you.”
My eyes narrow at the venom in her voice. “You showed him your tits?”
She scoffs, apparently miffed at why I’m even asking her.
“He saw half the girls’ tits there, Fallyn. The theme was touchdowns and titties. Topless was expected.”
Leave it to my sexually confident roommate to justify hitting on a guy I made out with, regardless of her attire—or lack thereof. So much for the damn girl code.
“No worries.” I turn back toward the hallway.
“You’re mad.” Her voice is weaker, and I can’t tell in my clouded head whether she’s manipulating me or honestly feels bad about trying to seduce Blaze with her fabulous breasts.
“No, I’m not.” I totally am.
But I’m not upset with her per se. I'm angry at the situation and how Blaze Porter has somehow snaked his way into my life, causing problems between two women whose only previous struggle was whether we were going to have white or wheat bread in the apartment.
I dart my eyes away from her. I’m torn between telling her the truth about my attraction to Blaze and hoping that pretending that I don’t burn low in my belly every time I see him, hell every time I think of him will go away if I never speak of it.
“See you tomorrow.” Drained from more than just the conversation with Charity, I walk down the short, narrow hall to my room, expecting to spend the next several sleepless hours thinking of the man who’s infiltrated my every thought.
Chapter 6
Blaze
I’ve been wandering the halls of the Dean Parson’s Business Building for the last twenty minutes, taking the chance that Fallyn has the same class on Mondays and Wednesdays. She’s making this harder than I anticipated. I expected her to come looking for me. The idea of her showing up in our frat house and throwing herself at me has haunted my dreams for the last two nights, but no such luck—hence the reason I’m stalking each and every classroom until I find her.
“Fuck,” I mutter as my eyes scan another full classroom of zombie looking finance majors. I grin when a girl in the third row turns a piece of notebook paper around after noticing me standing outside the door.
I love you, Blaze.
I chuckle to myself and shake my head as I walk to the next room. My gaze wanders over every face quickly. There are only five minutes until these classes are over, and I know I’ll never find her in the sea of students when that happens. Just as I turn to head to the last class on the hall, a girl crouching lower in her seat catches my eye.
Fallyn.
I smirk when her eyes cut back in my direction and widen when she notices I’m staring right at her. Not wasting another second, I tug open the heavy door, zeroing in on the gaping mouth I’m unable to resist. Front row of the class. I expected nothing less.
The teacher falls silent as I stalk across the room to her. Unwilling to give her a second to respond, to reject me, my hands cup her face and my lips find hers. Her stiff posture and the force of her hands pushing at my chest may say she’s not interested, but her lips part for my tongue a half second before I make contact with her mouth. As if sinking into a delicate dance, our tongues sweep and caress each other’s, relying on mutual responses to dictate the next move. Her taste, minty with a hint of coffee, sets fire to my senses, each one building the other until my need is a living thing between us. Her tiny hands find the fabric of my shirt and she pulls me closer rather than trying to drive me away.
I keep it as brief as I can manage, reducing my urge to lay her out on the teacher’s desk and glide my hands over every inch of her body. She whimpers, a quick, soft plea, imperceptible by the others in the room, but the sound shoots straight to my groin, which is already an expanding issue.
I run my knuckles down the gentle slope of her neck, feeding off the desire pooling in her eyes. Her lips part as I take a step back, imagining her begging me to stay, to do what I will with her body. I hold my head high, not embarrassed at all by walking out of the classroom with an erection. The teacher doesn’t say a word, but I don’t miss the soft sigh when I wink at her before closing the door behind me. Who says being the star quarterback of a championship team doesn’t have its benefits? I could probably get away with murder in this town—hell, the state.
Some classes are already releasing, but the hustle of students and slaps on my back as dozens of people vie for my attention doesn’t register. My head is back in that classroom with her. There’s no room for anything else, and that thought alone is enough to cause a brief pause, but not enough to keep me from posting up outside her door. That one kiss, the thirty seconds my mouth was on hers, isn’t sufficient to satisfy my need for her today.
Not attending one class since the semester started isn’t a concern for me either. There isn’t one person, or teacher, for that matter, who would refuse to help me out if my grades slipped, and even if those people existed, my place in the NFL draft and on a team is all but written in stone. You don’t get left in the shadows when you beat a national champion team, even if one point is the only thing that prevented your team from going into overtime and losing the game. It’s crazy how one trip to Florida and a titanium ring on my right hand has changed my way of thinking.
Everything I worked for over the last decade is coming to fruition. What I didn’t anticipate was my desire and need for one tiny brunette to become a part of that equation. She may be balking right now, but so did my fall league football coach until I proved I was worth my weight. She’ll come around, and I’m going to have one hell of a time convincing her.
I scour the group of students leaving her classroom, waiting for the woman of the hour. The second her form clears the door, I tug her to me.
She gasps, shoving at my shoulder with one tiny hand while the other attempts to loosen my grip. “That bullshit you just pulled—”
I swallow her words as my mouth covers hers and move both our bodies until she’s against the wall, ignoring the whistles and crude suggestions some of the men walking by feel the need to voice. I groan when her tongue sweeps against mine, and her grip on my shirt transitions from pushing me away to pulling me closer. If she legit didn’t want
to kiss me and forced the issue, I’d release her, but the tiny whimpers escaping her throat tell me she’s just as into this as I am.
I don’t pull away until we’re both gasping for breath and watch with unrestrained glee as her eyes come back into focus to stare up at me.
“Hey, beautiful.” Her face falls, eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
I take a step back, giving her the room she seems to need while praying she doesn’t bolt.
“You can’t just keep walking up to me, interrupting me in class, and kissing me whenever you feel like it.” Her eyes dart to the right and left, checking to see how much attention we’re pulling from the other people walking by.
Honestly, it’s more than I’d like. I’d love nothing more than to have her in the privacy of my room or her apartment where I could do the things I want to do with her, since they’d be extremely illegal if I did them here.
“I told you I was going to kiss you every time I saw you.” My lips tilt up, but she seems unaffected—not the response I’m accustomed to from women.
“Just because you declared it doesn’t mean it’s acceptable.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and the added barrier between us frustrates me.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” I sound desperate and needy—another thing I’m not used to.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t.”
“You have,” I argue.
“Avoiding you implies I’m actually thinking about you and going out of my way not to see you.” A grin pulls at the corner of her perfect lips. “I assure you, Mr. Porter, I haven’t done either of those things.”
Reaching out, I tug her arms away from her chest, letting them drop to her sides, and celebrate the increased thrumming of her pulse in her neck when I step closer. “That hurts my feelings.”
The statement is a little dramatic, but her not jumping aboard the “her and I train” is wounding my ego. I haven’t felt the sting of rejection since I was a boy. A slight frown pulls the corners of my lips down when I realize just how quickly I can be taken back to my childhood and the disappointment I felt daily.
