by Celia Aaron
CHAPTER FOUR
TRENT
I UNDERSTOOD THE DISTRUST in her amber eyes. But the way she pulled away from my touch left me scalded.
“Talk, man.” Her friend, Landon, smirked at me.
I cleared my throat. “I was just saying that first-string kickers get full scholarships.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I know.”
“What do you mean ‘I know’?” Landon dropped his chair onto all fours with a clack and leaned across the table toward her. “Full scholarship? You didn’t tell me that. You need this, Cordy. Go for it.”
“But soccer—”
“Fuck soccer. Try for first-string.” Landon opened his palm.
She reached out and lay her small hand in his. Something rumbled deep in my heart, and I had the urge to knock his hand away. I knew all about him, his many conquests, and his constant need to be close to Cordy. He may have had her fooled, but I wasn’t buying the “just friends” routine.
Instead of starting something that would end with Landon in a heap on the floor, I slung my arm over the back of her chair.
He gave me an acid look and turned back to Cordy. “You need to try for it at least. You could get your tuition paid for the rest of the year and next year, too, if you stayed on.”
“They aren’t going to let a girl be first-string.” She shook her head, her long brown hair tickling the back of my hand. “Especially not after what happened yesterday.”
I took in her scent, sweet and warm. Keeping my hand out of her hair was taking an effort. I leaned closer. “You don’t know that. I saw what you did yesterday. You have enough leg to get the ball between the uprights from thirty yards out. You just set up wrong and didn’t get enough lift.”
She glanced at me and pulled her hand away from Landon. I had to stow my goofy smile and the juvenile feeling of triumph that bloomed inside me.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she frowned down at the table. “You saw what happened. It bounced off my own player. The defenders didn’t have to do anything other than stand there. I sank the whole thing myself. Besides, I can’t kick a fifty-yard field goal, or even a forty-yarder, most likely. They won’t let me be first-string if I can’t make distance kicks.”
She finally looked at me, a full-on view of her radiant face. My heart stuttered and kicked as my chest warmed. Her amber eyes were like pools of gold, and her lips… Damn, her full lips were made for kissing. I’d only ever gotten a taste of them in that one stolen moment two years ago, but I wanted more. If I told her how far I’d gone to ensure I’d get the chance to be near her again, she might knee me and run.
“You don’t need to be able to kick a fifty-yarder or even a forty-yarder to be first-string. Plenty of teams have a first-stringer that kicks within a set number of yardage. Your range could be forty yards and under, or whatever you’re comfortable with.” I found myself leaning closer to her, drawn in by her wide eyes and the pensive look crinkling her small nose. “You need accuracy. You have the leg. I could see it when you kicked yesterday. But it’ll take practice, and we have to keep an eye on the walk-ons to find a guy who kicks it long like a champ, but doesn’t have your accuracy up close.”
Her eyes flickered as if she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her pink lips parted the slightest bit, and I forced myself to keep a reasonable distance, despite my burning need to kiss the breath out of her. Being near her was proving more of a challenge than I’d expected.
Landon stood, his chair scraping across the floor. “Hey, asshole, do you have a point or are you just going to keep eye fucking her in front of me?”
“Landon!” Heat seeped into her luminous cheeks. God, she was beautiful.
I cleared my throat and continued, trying to make my plan sound as nonchalant and off-the-cuff as possible. “They’re going to have walk-on tryouts on Wednesday. You need to practice for the next three days. You have to be accurate—not miss a single kick—during tryouts. That’s the only way.”
“Let me guess.” Landon glared down at me. “You want to help her practice?”
“I’m the holder. It only makes sense for me to be the one—”
“No, not a chance.” He balled his fists at his sides. “You need to move along.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I measured my words. Landon was Cordy’s friend, and I hoped he’d eventually be mine, but backing down now wasn’t an option. I was too close.
“I don’t give a damn that you’re the holder or star quarterback. I’m going to kick your ass.” Landon flexed his fists until his knuckles gleamed white.
This was not going how I’d hoped. No surprise there. Landon was just as territorial as I’d guessed.
“Landon?” A blonde sauntered up, her athletic shorts barely bigger than a pair of panties. She smiled up at him and ran a hand down his tattooed forearm.
“I’m busy.” He didn’t break eye contact with me.
“You weren’t too busy for me last weekend.” The blonde pouted, her duck lips larger than life. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered something into his ear before dropping back down.
Landon’s jaw went slack and his eyes seized on her ample chest that was covered with only a sports bra. He swallowed hard. “Cordy, I ah—”
“Just go. I’m fine.” She turned so her back was against the wall, then pulled her sweater tighter around her like it was some sort of armor.
She felt like she needed to defend herself. Against me. For the millionth time, I cursed myself for ruining things with her two years ago. But I could fix it. I would do anything in my power to make her see me again the way she had then—with bright eyes and a trusting heart.
The blonde molded herself to Landon’s side, but he turned back to Cordy. “No, I can stay. I don’t want to leave you alone with—”
“We aren’t alone.” Cordy waved her arm at the busy cafeteria. “It’s not like he’s in the back of a windowless van offering me candy.”
I arched an eyebrow at her comparison between me and a kidnapper. I should have been offended. Instead, I laughed. She wasn’t that far from the truth. If I could have tossed her over my shoulder and run with her, I would have. But that move didn’t exactly strengthen trust, and I wanted her trust more than anything. All I needed was for her to give me a chance.
“I don’t like leaving you with him.” Landon shifted his gaze from her to me.
“I don’t like you going to jail for indecent exposure.” She gave a pointed look at the blonde whose hands roved along Landon’s torso and began inching lower. “So you should probably go somewhere private.”
The blonde tiptoed again and whispered something that made Landon’s eyes close. Once finished with whatever scandalous words she’d chosen, she eased her body down his side with a breathy sigh.
He opened his eyes. “Okay, I’m going, but I’ll see you this afternoon. And you.” He stabbed a finger at me. “If you so much as look at her wrong, I’ll kick your ass.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smirked up at him as the blonde took his elbow and pulled him away.
Finally, it was just Cordy and me. The way it was supposed to be. I was going to get the chance I’d been dreaming about for two years. I had so much to tell her, so many things to explain.
The chair next to me pushed back from the table.
I turned to see her gathering her bag and grabbing her tray.
“Wait, where are you going?” I stood, worry icing the steady pace of my heart.
She gave me a piercing look, her head cocked slightly to the side as if my question was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. “Isn’t it obvious? Away from you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CORDY
I MARCHED THROUGH THE cafeteria and dumped my tray. Landon was long gone, probably locked in a maintenance closet with his blonde-of-the-week. It didn’t matter. I’d planned to finish my homework and do some writing for the rest of the day.
“Cordy, please.” Trent followed me out of the caf
eteria and into the fall air. Leaves swirled from the oaks that towered over the edges of the quad, and a few students played Frisbee in the fading grass.
I pulled my cardigan closer and followed the concrete sidewalk away from the heart of campus and toward my dorm. Trent dogged my steps, but I didn’t want to talk to him. He almost fooled me in the cafeteria. His earnest eyes, sweet smile, and the rich sound of his voice—I’d fallen for all of it before. His feigned interest seemed real just like it had the last time.
He had been so cute, so endearing when we’d first met. But it was all an act. We’d been in the same speech class together when I was a freshman and he was a sophomore. The teacher had randomly paired us together. Having been president of the drama club in high school, I loved the thrill of speaking in front of a crowd.
Trent, on the other hand, visibly paled when we received our final assignment—tell the class a simple story about what you did on your summer break. He’d been terrified, but we’d worked through it together. After he’d successfully given his speech to the class, he’d picked me up and twirled me in the air. My gaze slid toward the arts hall, to the spot where that twirl had happened.
I almost smiled at the memory of his hands on me and the giddy sensation of spinning. I shook my head against the memories. I couldn’t just remember the good. There was plenty of bad to go with it. The problem was that when he looked at me or came too close, I was spinning again.
“Cordy—”
I whirled on him, anger overcoming my need to escape. “What do you want from me?”
He stepped closer, and I fought to remain still. I wouldn’t back down from him. His eyes softened, and he held up his hands, as if I were wielding a gun.
“I just want to help, okay? That’s all I want.” A breeze blew by, tousling his hair and bringing the homey smell of wood smoke to my nose.
“Why?”
He lowered his hands and stuffed them into his pockets, his wide shoulders rising in a shrug. “You helped me one time, remember?”
“I remember plenty.” I hiked my bag farther up my shoulder and turned my head to watch the boys throwing the Frisbee. Light filtered through the trees overhead, the sun playing along the fallen leaves on the path.
“Cordy.” His voice was almost a whisper. He pulled his right hand from his pocket and slowly reached for me.
I held my breath. His fingertips, calloused from years of throwing perfect spirals, brushed my hair from my cheek with gentle pressure. Warmth sparked from his touch and spread everywhere in my body. I was caught up, dragging my attention from the players and back to him. His bright eyes held me in their gaze. I refused to lean into his touch, but how I wanted to do just that.
“Let me help, please?” He dropped his hand and gave me a sober stare.
Pounding feet and crunching leaves distracted me, and before I could move, Trent yanked me into his arms. One of the Frisbee players ran into Trent’s back and bounced off while Trent scarcely moved.
“Watch it!” Trent yelled, his voice rumbling in my ear.
I was pressed to him, his strong arms wrapped around me. He was so much larger than me. I couldn’t even peek over his shoulder or see past the wide expanse of his chest.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.” The student darted past and picked up the Frisbee, then returned to his friends. “My bad.”
Trent pushed me back and held me at arm’s length. “Sorry about that. You okay?”
He was so close now, and I was surrounded by his scent, by him. My eyelashes fluttered, and I couldn’t catch a full breath.
“I-I’m fine.” I shrugged him off and backed away a step. He’d felt so good. Too good. I wouldn’t let anything like that happen again. I couldn’t go down the path that I already knew would end in disappointment.
But he had a point about the scholarship and the kicking. If I could get a full scholarship, then I would be able to do what I wanted after graduation without student loans hanging around my neck. Instead of switching majors to something more “practical” as my student advisor would call it, I could stay in the arts, graduate, and teach. That was my dream, and it could actually come true if I practiced. And even if I didn’t make first-string, at least I would have tried.
“I owe you one, okay?” He shrugged. “The only reason I’m able to do press conferences after games is because of you. Just let me help you and try to repay the favor that you did me. That’s all I’m asking.” His words seemed reasonable, but I couldn’t miss the eagerness in his tone.
I chewed my lip and considered him. “If we do this, then we’re even, right? You won’t bother me anymore?”
His face fell, but he nodded. “Right. Even.”
“Fine.” What am I doing? “We can…we can start this afternoon at the practice field.”
He looked at me through his lashes, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. Warmth bloomed up my neck and blossomed in my cheeks. God, he was gorgeous.
I took another step backward. “Two o’clock.”
He focused on me, not letting me go. “Two, sure.”
“Okay.”
His smile spread across his lips and reached his eyes. “Okay.”
I realized I was still backing away when a normal person would have turned and walked by then. “Okay, so bye.”
“Right.”
Do not think about kissing him. Do not think about kissing him.
I turned and hurried away.
But the wind still carried his low, sexy voice to me. “Bye for now.”
CHAPTER SIX
TRENT
I TOSSED THE BALL above my head and caught it easily, the leather slapping against my palms. The sun shone high and bright, warming the exposed skin of my arms and neck. I tried not to stare toward Cordy’s dorm, but I couldn’t stop my gaze from returning there again and again.
Five minutes before two, and I’d already been at the field for half an hour, waiting. All I could think about was her in my arms, where she belonged. She fit perfectly against me. I’d enjoyed holding her so much that I could have kissed the wayward Frisbee player for making it happen. I wanted it again, her trembling against me—but not out of fear, and preferably naked. The thought sent a jolt to my cock, though I’d given it quite the workout earlier today while I imagined Cordy beneath me.
Focus. Even though the whole “practice kicking” idea was, at its heart, a scheme for me to get close to Cordy again, I did intend to help her become first-string. She needed the scholarship, and I would do everything I could to help her win it. She belonged on the team, with me. I just needed her to believe it as much as I did.
Finally, I saw two figures approaching the field. My heart leapt at the sight of her luscious frame—high tits, smaller waist, flaring hips, and strong, shapely legs from years of soccer. She wore athletic shorts and a white logo t-shirt, the kind you get for free at college fairs. My joy was only slightly dampened by the sight of Landon at her side.
They walked onto the neatly-kept grass, Landon looking out of place in his black death metal t-shirt and jeans with a long chain hanging down his leg and attached to his wallet. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. I squeezed the ball between my hands until my fingers ached. When she laughed, I forced myself to breathe. They were friends, nothing more.
He gave her a half-hearted salute and peeled off to sit on the bleachers. She kept walking toward me and pulled an elastic from her pocket. Whipping her hair into a ponytail, her t-shirt rode up, and I got a glimpse of the paler skin of her stomach. My cock tried to join in the fun, but I looked away—and specifically, at Landon, and the mutiny down below quieted. A boner in my athletic shorts wouldn’t inspire Cordy’s trust.
“So, what are we doing?” She didn’t raise her eyes to me.
I grinned and placed the ball on the ground. “First, we run some laps to get warmed up.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Fine.” Then she took off running toward the edge of the field.
I caught u
p with her easily, keeping my stride slow so we ran at the same pace.
“Run Forrest, run!” Landon leaned back and slid a pair of shades over his eyes before popping in some earbuds.
“Why is he even here?” I tried to keep my tone even as we cut across behind the yellow goal post, circling the field at a steady pace.
“He doesn’t trust you.” She kept her eyes forward. Her ponytail bounced back and forth with each of her steps.
“What does he think I’m going to do? Maul you on the practice field?” I didn’t think it would be wise to mention that I would love to pin her to the ground and make her come so many times she passed out from exhaustion.
She glanced at me. “Maybe.”
“I thought we already cleared up that I don’t have a kidnapper van.”
We jogged past Landon, who was laid out on the bleachers, hands behind his head, one knee bent with his foot tapping to a rhythm only he could hear.
“Just because you don’t have the van doesn’t mean you don’t have a thing for snatching girls and putting them down the well with the lotion basket.” She smirked.
I wanted to kiss that little quirk of a smile right off her lips.
“I don’t have lotion in a basket, but I do like to dance around and talk about how fuckable I am.”
She snorted. “Do you make videos, too?”
We rounded the other goal post and headed up the visitor’s side.
“Sure do. There’s an entire YouTube channel dedicated to them. Very popular.”
“Good to know. I’ll have to check that out later.”
“You do that.” I smiled. Did we just have a fun conversation about serial killers like normal people do? Yes, we did. “One more lap.”
“You’re slow, QB.” She increased her speed.
I lengthened my stride, getting out ahead of her as we came around to the first goalpost again.
She sped to my elbow and then cut ahead of me to the inside as we ran around the end zone.
