Eyeful (Gladiators of the Gridiron Book 2)

by C. R. Grissom

  “Now here’s a reason I shoulda gone to college. Nice meeting you, Phoebe,” he says with a grin.

  “Likewise.”

  We find an empty table in the lounge area between the bar and dance floor.

  “I’m sorry I had to work last night. I’m bummed I missed the game. How did it go?”

  “We beat the UNLV Rebels seventeen to three.”

  “Nice.” I bump my knuckles against his. “That’s two PATs and a field goal, right?”

  He opens both cans and passes me one. “Yeah. It was a great game. We played well.”

  “Excellent. I don’t like them. Their campus is close to UDO. We Scorpions have a long and bitter rivalry with the Rebels.” I roll my right hand back palm up and snap it forward with my index finger extended like a scorpion’s barbed tail. “Sting ’em.”

  “That’s right.” Tiago barks out a laugh. “The UDO basketball jersey is one of my favorites. Gotta love the scorpion riding the back. Too bad they don’t have a football team.”

  “Right? I’ve had to adjust to waving my fist thumb down while screaming ‘sacrifice them,’ which is borderline bloodthirsty.”

  His gold eyes shine in the shadowy room. “True. But from the field, it’s pretty freaking cool watching Gladiator fans give us the go-ahead to vanquish our enemies.”

  Sighing, I blurt, “Sometimes I miss chanting sting ‘em.”

  “Why did you transfer?”

  He almost whispers it, but an intensity came into his eyes when he asked. My blood pressure soars. I don’t want to lie to Tiago, but I’m ashamed to discuss the truth. I don’t want Mom’s actions in Las Vegas disrupting what I’m building with him, and with my second chance at Fortis. But he deserves an answer, too.

  I make eye contact. “Something ugly happened, and my life spiraled out of control. Had I stayed, it would have consumed me.”

  He pauses, I see his jaw clench. “What happened?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not getting into details. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the victim, not even close. But the fallout? Collateral damage, you know? I left it behind when I moved here and transferred to Fortis.”

  One side of his mouth lifts. “So it’s true. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

  “Yeah, I realize how vague it sounds.” I huff. Relieved he isn’t pressing me for more information, and yet at the same time, my heart notes the nagging, bone-deep belief I can trust him with my past. “Do you mind?” I whisper, looking down at my lap.

  Just then someone pulls up a chair to our table. “Tiago,” the older woman says. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Who is this?”

  Talk about inconvenient timing.

  The woman currently giving me fisheye has hair dyed a flat shade of black. Her lips are painted a shade of faded coral that clashes with the overly bright color of her purple dress. Be nice, I admonish myself.

  “Sra. Lopes, this is Phoebe, a friend of mine from college.”

  His tone sounds respectful, but his face says something else. His scrunched nose and flat lips tell me he’s every bit as annoyed over her intrusion as I am.

  “Hello,” I murmur while pasting a smile on my face.

  “Is Tiago your boyfriend?” she asks boldly.

  Shit. “Why do you ask?”

  Her eyes narrow at me. Her upper lip curls and the newly bleached fuzz above her upper lip catches the light. Wow, she’s got a formidable ‘stache. Once I notice it, I can’t unsee it. Her lips are moving, and I’m mesmerized by the movement, but I have zero idea of what she just asked me. I tear my gaze away and glance at Tiago. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Senhora. Phoebe is my good friend. Wow, have you seen Sra. Azevedo? She looks amazing.” Tiago points to a woman who just entered the bar.

  I have to agree. Tall, brunette, wearing white capri pants and a teal-colored linen blouse with a kind of three-quarter balloon sleeve and a boat neckline. The red turquoise pendant statement necklace is on point. Her large Louis Vuitton tote must have cost a fortune. If I’m not mistaken, her block heel slides in a neutral taupe are Gucci.

  She looks like she just walked out of the shops at Bellagio. Flawless. I envy her unerring sense of style.

  Sra. Lopes makes a sound like a furious cat who just fell into the water. A kind of hissing gurgle.

  Glancing at her face I note her jealousy. I’m ashamed to admit that I feel better now, and my smile spreads.

  Tiago waves the other woman to our table. She grins at him, making her way through the bar. Stopping to do that double-cheek kiss when people greet her. Meanwhile, I hear Sra. Lopes grinding her teeth. Tiago winks at me. He’s getting some of his own back.

  We stand. Tiago hugs Sra. Azevedo, kissing each side of her face. “Wow, look at you. You look younger every time I see you.” He glances at Sra. Lopes. “Doesn’t she?”

  Sra. Lopes’s mustache twitches. “Oh, yes,” she chokes. “Where’s your husband? He’s always working, and we never see him,” she purrs maliciously.

  No kisses exchange between these two women.

  Sra. Azevedo says, “He’s outside talking to Paul. They are like old ladies gossiping. You know what I mean.” She glances pointedly at Sra. Lopes. “How’s your mama? You two are never far apart.”

  Tiago snorts out a laugh but hides it behind a cough.

  I bite my lip to keep from snickering. It was a subtle jab, but it found its mark judging by Sra. Lopes’s expression.

  “She’s fine. I need to go find her.”

  Once she stalks away from us, Sra. Azevedo playfully bats Tiago’s elbow. “Troublemaker. Now, introduce me to your friend.”

  “Hi, I’m Phoebe. I want to be you when I grow up.”

  She throws back her head and laughs. “I like you, Phoebe. Call me Martina. Now tell me, how many she-cats sharpened their claws on you today?”

  “Oh, well,” I hedge. “Not so many.”

  At the same time, Tiago says, “Enough. It’s getting old.”

  She nods. “Well, what did you expect? You bring a gorgeous girl with eyes the color of the hydrangeas in my garden. They see the way you look at Phoebe and know you’re not available. So…meow.” She claws the air.

  “When you put it that way…” He shrugs. But he shoots me a grin that makes me melt from the inside.

  She kisses each of my cheeks. “It’s good to meet you. Don’t be a stranger.” Turning to Tiago she says, “And you,” while pressing a kiss to each cheek. “I missed you. I pray for your family every day.”

  “Thank you. Do me a favor and call my mom. She could use a distraction. Maybe get her out of the house?”

  “I will.”

  The DJ plays “Trampoline” by SHAED. It’s a favorite song of mine and I’m surprised to hear it. Tiago takes my hand, leading me to the dance floor. Our bodies line up. The perfection of his chest, the power of his body beneath my hands. I curl my left hand around his neck. He clasps my right hand with his left. We sway to the song, and the lead singer’s powerful voice envelops me. The lyrics write themselves on my brain. I’ll never forget this moment.

  This. What I’m feeling for Tiago right now. My heart opening, allowing myself to fall even though I’m terrified of splatting the land. I’m granting myself permission to care without boundaries.

  Our cheeks press against each other. Chest to knee his body is molded against mine. Inhaling his cologne—something subtle, but still masculine—makes my senses go on overload. My emotions coalesce inside me. Sensitizing my skin, sending sparks riding along my nerve endings.

  Heat pulses between our bodies. His lips brush the spot beneath my ear. I inhale sharply, and my stomach compresses.

  “Phoebe.” There is so much emotion in his voice.

  I run my fingers along his neck, and he shivers.

  The song, his strength, his scent—I never want to leave his embrace. “Tiago.” There’s so much to say, but not here. Not in front of this crowd.

  He whispers, “I wish we were alone.”
<
br />   His words trigger a need deep inside me. A primal pull I’ve never felt for anyone before. When the song ends we step apart, but I’m in a daze. The spell the song wove around us doesn’t break.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tiago

  We leave the hall in a daze. Our hands remain clasped. We haven’t let go since the song ended. We’re both quiet, waiting for the signal to cross the street. I hardly remember walking through the crowd to get here.

  The call she got from the Henderson detective earlier didn’t provide answers. I can’t help you, might mean she can’t or she won’t. I don’t believe she’d protect a liar, and a cheat, even if it is her mom. It goes against everything I’ve learned about Phoebe.

  I have to take a hard look at whether I’m making excuses so we can have sex. If that answer is yes, I’m a lousy son. Then again, at some point I have to trust my instincts and decide what’s right for me. “About what I said on the dance floor, I’ve joked with you about sex almost since day one, but now I gotta know where we’re headed?”

  She starts to say something but then pauses. My stomach falls out. Hits the pavement because somehow, I lined this up all wrong and missed the posts. Fuck.

  “Tiago,” she whispers, gnawing on her bottom lip.

  Here it comes. She’s going to shove me into the friend zone. Acid hits the back of my throat. I totally deserve it because I dicked around and did squadoosh about making what was happening between us real.

  “I want to say yes.”

  “Then say it.”

  Her lips curve, but it isn’t quite a smile. “Yes. But I don’t know if sex will be good…” She peeks at me. “…you know. With a partner,” she qualifies.

  She’s serious. Unbelievable. The sudden sense of relief nearly takes me to my knees. I bring our hands to my lips and press a kiss against her knuckles. “Listen. We can do whatever you like.” I mean, I don’t pretend to be an expert, but no one has ever complained. And wouldn’t that make me sound like a complete fuckwit to admit? “No pressure. Okay?”

  She lets out a breath. “Okay.”

  “Now?” I ask. Damn, I sound needy. Truth? I want her bad.

  “Sure, that grass looks comfy,” she jokes. Pointing to the park beyond the parking lot.

  “Ha. No. I moved out of the dorm, but technically it’s still half my room.”

  “And the other half?”

  “Belongs to my roommate, Baloo.”

  I’m taking a chance inviting her back before checking in with Baloo, but he’s my brother. I should have thought of this before. I send him a text: I need a solid. I’m heading back to the dorm with Phoebe. Stay away?

  We had a code about bringing girls back. Well, he mostly did. I dated here and there. I haven’t invited anyone to the dorm in a long time.

  We hold hands on the drive back to school. My phone doesn’t buzz in my pocket. Man, I hope Baloo is out somewhere and plans to stay out for a long time. My heart keeps thudding in my chest.

  We park in the lot reserved for the dorm. My parking sticker is still current. I got one issued for the new school year, even though I live at home. It’s stupid, but at the time I felt like if I didn’t get one, it would mean that I’d be home for good, with Dad stuck in bed beyond graduation. A hopeless situation.

  Which now works in my favor as we head inside. Waiting for the elevator takes three years or three minutes. Now that we’re this close I’m losing my patience.

  “You in a hurry?”

  Her question startles me. I kept thinking come on, come on. “What?”

  “You’re muttering.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Finally. We step inside and I push the button for the fourth floor.

  I try to concentrate on anything besides where I’m headed with Phoebes. I want Baloo to be gone. He never answered my text, and for all I know he’s zoned out on his bed listening to music.

  The doors open on four. We walk down the hallway, my steps quickening with my need to find out whether we have privacy and the room to ourselves.

  “Tiago, wait.”

  I stop. We can’t move forward if she isn’t ready.

  When I make eye contact, she wraps her arms around me. Letting her backpack drop to the floor. She presses her body against mine. Her mouth touches my lips and the heat between us almost flash-fries me.

  “Kiss me.”

  I angle my head and she opens her mouth. Our tongues collide. My body clenches like a fist. Her hands roam down my back. Touching. Running her fingers over the contours of my shoulder blades.

  “Still distracted?” she asks pulling away slightly to make eye contact.

  One look down at my zipper would tell the tale. “Nah. Hyper-focused.”

  She brushes her lips against mine once more. It’s the softest caress, and it makes me hard enough to pound spikes.

  We are right outside my old dorm room. One knock and we’ll know if the coast is clear. I don’t move to rap my knuckles against the wood; instead, I’m frozen waiting for her to break the spell. But she weaves a tighter one around me. Pulling me to her. Wrapping me in her power. I allow myself to be absorbed by her.

  Her tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and every muscle in my body pulls tight. I want her with a single-mindedness I have never felt for anyone before. It’s coursing through my veins, destroying my will, weakening me.

  “Phoebes.” I shake my head. “We gotta stop. I can’t take much more before I embarrass myself in this hallway.”

  She fuses our mouths again. She gently scrapes her teeth against my lower lip, sucking it into her mouth, which makes my eyes freaking cross. She’s so damn sexy and I’m so turned on I’m like a tuning fork resonating, sound and motion humming along my skin.

  “I want you, no qualifiers.”

  Shit. I’m a goner. There’s no way I can resist her. Reaching back I tap the door with my fingers. “Yo, Baloo, are you home?”

  Silence greets us. I use my key, turning the handle, and we nearly fall into my old dorm room. I catch us both before we hit the floor. “Easy.”

  She giggles, settling her backpack near the door. “Nothing between us is ever easy.”

  She’s right. “Yeah, well, right now we probably want it hard.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She stares into my eyes. I’m struck by the fact this gorgeous, savage-hot woman is in my arms. I need to concentrate on making her feel good. To touch her and taste her and know without any doubt I’ve made her come.

  The tension cranks inside my body, making my chest feel like someone kicked a football straight into my ribs. Breathless. But I’m not going to let something stupid like a lack of oxygen stand in my way.

  She unbuttons my shirt. I step back to get my arms out of the sleeves, and let it slide to the floor. I turn the lock on the door. I reach for Phoebes, but she raises her hand in the universal stop sign. And my skin turns cold.

  “Look at you.” She gestures to my chest. “You’re freaking perfect. How am I supposed to get naked with you?”

  “First, you take off your clothes.” I move toward her slowly. Giving her an out if she needs it. But she’s too busy looking at the ceiling. “Phoebes, look at me.”

  “That’s what started this whole mess. I stepped through the doors at Pump It Fit and I saw you.” She shakes her head. “Damn.” She wags her hand between us. “This is not going to work. You’re you. And I’m me.”

  She’s absurd, and it makes me laugh. “Stop. Do you even know how freaking sexy you are? You stand there talking about my body? Holy hell, girl. Have you ever noticed your own?”

  “Huh?”

  I close the short distance between us and reach for her. “Come on. Do you have any idea how long I’ve fantasized about you?”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Of course.” I wrap my arms around her. “Get naked with me.”

  “What?”

  I skim my teeth along her jaw, wanting a tast
e of her skin.

  She moans.

  “We’re wearing too many clothes. I want to explore you and show you how much fun sex can be.”

  She threads her fingers through my hair. “I want you to show me.”

  I help Phoebe remove her sweater. Then I unfasten the tie on her halter dress, and the front of her dress falls to her waist. I touch her breast through the fabric of her bra. It’s peach colored and has small white daisies embroidered along the tops of each cup. I run my fingers gently over the material toward her nipple. I flick the tip and her breath stutters.

  She has such beautiful breasts. Soft and full, and I want to spend lots of time exploring them. Pretty sure no one ever took time to make Phoebes feel good.

  “This will be easier if we’re horizontal.”

  “Agreed,” she whispers, stepping out of her dress. She’s glorious.

  We gravitate toward my bed. Nothing on it but the fitted sheet and a black and gold throw blanket with the Gladiator helmet logo in the middle, and a flat pillow. Somehow I have to make it up to her for the lack of comfort.

  I pull her on top of me. Her breasts press into my chest. And she leans down to kiss me. Our tongues touch and something goes off inside me, lighting me up. Every nerve ending hums with electricity. She flips me over, so I’m on top. My quick reflexes stop us from crashing to the floor.

  “Easy, or we’ll both break our asses,” I joke. “Twin beds don’t leave a lot of room for fancy moves.”

  She grins. “Just testing your athleticism.”

  “Mmhmm.” I lower my lips to her left breast and open-mouth kiss the skin above her bra. As I trace my tongue along the tops of her breasts she writhes beneath me.

  “That feels so good.”

  “Can I take off your bra?” I murmur against her skin.

  She twists her body to the side, giving me access to the back clasp, almost dumping me to the floor again. Sex with Phoebes might give me a concussion, and I couldn’t care less.

  “Yes, please.”

  My hand isn’t steady when I reach behind to undo the hooks with my right hand. It takes me two tries to free the ends. She shimmies out of her bra, and my pulse ratchets.