Eyeful (Gladiators of the Gridiron Book 2)

by C. R. Grissom

  Not that I want someone to flunk out, but I’m acutely aware that it would help me out right about now.

  I’ve stayed at Gavin’s and with Grams the full ten days allowed. I’ve got five days left with Agnes before rotating back. It’s hard, but at least we aren’t breaking any rules. The guards tried to make trouble, but Gavin handed them a copy of the by-laws. There isn’t a clause prohibiting my switch between the three condos.

  Boy did that ever piss them off.

  But that was last week. They haven’t tried anything else since.

  This is the eye of the storm. The calm spot before everything goes apeshit. But obsessing over it won’t change a thing.

  Tiago leans against one of the columns that serve as plinths in front of the Roman-architecture-styled building. He’s wearing heather-gray joggers and a Fortis football shirt in gold with black lettering. Climbing the twenty-six steps to the top with my gaze firmly fixed on him, I realize he hasn’t noticed me. He appears deep in thought. Staring at his feet. It pinches my heart.

  “Hey,” I say softly to get his attention.

  He makes eye contact with me. There’s so much sadness in those golden eyes of his I’m compelled to ask, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I got a lot on my mind. And another paper due for Professor Shelby.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “We can work on it now if you want?”

  “It’s not due for a couple of days yet. I still have time.”

  I wait to see if he has more to say. The silence between us deepens. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  “Phoebes… It’s a lot of weight right now. Family stuff. Avó, Dad, everything intertwined…”

  He pauses to take a deep breath. He looks so conflicted, even tortured over whatever is bothering him. I give him an out. “Look, you don’t have to tell me right now, or ever. If you can’t tell me something because it’s private, that’s okay. Like I said, don’t ever lie.”

  “Yeah, I remember. What’s wrong?”

  I guess I’m still bothered by Agnes’s story. “A friend shared a story with me today about how someone lied to her. The consequences affected her for years. It made me sad for her. So, it’s okay not to tell me something. Just don’t lie. Okay?”

  He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he swallows hard. “Okay. How about if we defer this conversation to the second half.”

  “The second half of what?”

  “Sorry. I know this isn’t a game.” He blows out a breath. “Something is affecting my family. I don’t want to talk about it now, but can we defer this conversation to another time?”

  Wrapping my arms around him I say, “Yes, we can talk about it whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to say what yesterday meant to me.”

  He rests his forehead against mine, drawing me close. “No worries. You can make it up to me by pledging your undying devotion. Maybe get a plaque engraved in my honor.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you weren’t that good. And we still haven’t finished the deal.”

  My body lines up with his. We stay close, arms wrapped around each other. My pulse scrambles. I tilt my head to line up our mouths. Press my lips against his mouth. The kiss begins softly, our lips rubbing. His tongue swipes across my lower lip and my insides bunch like a fist.

  “Yeah, about that…” He leaves his sentence unfinished.

  “You’re looking for a rematch,” I say.

  “Yes,” he agrees, kissing me more thoroughly.

  His tongue slips into my mouth, sliding against mine. Kicking up my pulse. Making me want him. Badly.

  “What’s Baloo up to today?” I ask, knowing I’m giving Tiago the signal for sex. I mean, why not?

  Tiago takes out his phone and starts typing. “Let’s find out. Hopefully somewhere far away.” He makes eye contact. “If we strike out with Baloo, is your roommate home at this time of day? In fact, I haven’t asked you about your roommate.”

  Shit. Tread carefully. Don’t lie. Don’t lie. “She’s nice, but she’s home during the day,” which is the truth. Grams and Agnes are home during the day. Gavin, too.

  He checks his phone. “Baloo won’t return for two hours,” he says wrapping one arm around my back as we climb down the steps together.

  My stomach tightens. I’m about to find out what it’s like to have sex with Tiago. And then I have a moment of panic.

  “You’ve gone quiet. Did you change your mind?”

  “To be honest, I’m trying to remember if I shaved my legs this morning and whether it’s a deal-breaker for me.”

  “I would think that would be up to me, right?”

  “Well?” I ask. Wondering if I’ve blown this moment or not.

  “Nah. Stubble doesn’t bother me.”

  I snort. “Then we’re all in.”

  We reach Ludus quickly, both of us hurrying across campus. When Tiago closes the door behind him, I’m not sure what I should do. Undress him? Tear off my own clothes? Suddenly, I’m unsure.

  “Come here,” he says. Patting the space next to him on the bed. “Second thoughts? We don’t have to do anything. We can just hang out. No pressure.”

  I join him on the bed. “I know. I appreciate it.”

  “Tell me you’re not still worried about stubble,” he says, patting my leg.

  “Not much. I’m being mildly weird. Of course, I want to have sex. With you,” I clarify.

  “Thank God. Same,” he says with a laugh. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, all kinds of curious.

  He digs into the free-standing closet on his side of the room and pulls out a sleeping bag, unzipping it to lay on the floor flat and open. He shoots me a smile. My stomach clenches so hard I almost pull a muscle.

  He grabs the desk chair from Baloo’s side and sets it on the opposite end of the blanket. He comes back to me and rubs his lips against mine.

  “Still trust me?”

  “Hmm.” Staring suspiciously at the chair I say, “As long as you don’t try to spank me, I am.”

  “Nah. That’s next-level stuff. We’re at least a week away from that kind of play.”

  He nibbles my lip, but I hear the tease in his voice.

  My breath stutters. “You keep thinking that.”

  “Okay, okay, no spanking.” He grins. “You’re so strict.”

  Lifting the chair at his desk he moves it to the opposite side of the first one. What in the world is he doing? Lastly, he opens the top drawer of the small dresser next to his bed and pulls out a condom and a flashlight. What does he want to shine a light on? Next he rummages through the bottom drawer and withdraws something ivory colored. It looks like a scrap of fabric, but he shoves it in his pocket, and I can’t tell.

  He sets the flashlight under the chair closest to me. My heart starts to batter my ribs. I’m curious, but also reluctant without knowing what he plans to do. The condom drops beside it. Reaching behind me, he yanks the pillow off his bed, and drops it on the open sleeping bag. He offers his hand to me. “Come.”

  Guiding me to the sleeping bag he asks, “Lie back?”

  I do as he asks. My nerves fray, and my heartbeat races. He leaves me to go to the footlocker at the base of his bed, and he pulls out a blanket. He gazes at me with a lazy smile. In one fluid motion, he settles the blanket over the two chairs, creating a blanket fort for us.

  My insides melt into goo, and my heart is lost to him.

  He joins me seconds later in our shadowed enclosure. Crawling up my body, aligning himself over me, but keeping his full weight of his body off mine, bearing the brunt on his arms.

  “Okay?” he asks. “I don’t want a repeat of nearly rolling off the bed. Sex injuries are embarrassing to explain to the coaching staff.”

  “Good thinking.” Running my hand down his biceps I shiver. “But I want your full weight pressing into me.”

  “
Give me a second.” He reaches for the flashlight, turns it on, and sets it upright. The bright beam lights the burrow he built for us. He takes the scrap of fabric from his pocket. Up close, I see it’s an embroidered coaster of sorts. He places it over the lens of the flashlight. Distorted shapes of diffused light fill the canopy blanket above us.

  “You don’t seem like the doily type.”

  He grins. “Hidden in the bottom of my drawer since I first moved in. Mom didn’t want me to leave rings on the furniture. I couldn’t tell her Baloo would never let me live it down if I actually used it.”

  He runs his lips over the shell of my ear.

  My nipples pucker. “No doubt.” Brushing my hands down his back, I cup his ass. “I asked you to press your weight into mine.”

  Tiago relaxes against me. His erection fits naturally against my sex, cradled between the juncture of my thighs. His face fills my vision. His head is haloed by the light reflected on the blanket cocooning us.

  He’s so damn sexy heat infuses me. Tiago is much bulkier than my first two lovers. His muscle mass and hard planes make me feel nearly petite in contrast. A first for me.

  Lifting my hips I grind against him.

  “Phoebe,” he groans.

  He only called my name, but the emotion behind it makes my stomach clutch.

  Tiago sits back and takes off his shirt, and I can’t glance away. “Undress me,” I plead.

  Reaching for the bottom of my shirt, he slowly lifts the material. He lowers himself, running his tongue over each inch of newly exposed flesh. He slips the shirt over my head.

  My teal-colored bra is plain, nothing fancy. He traces the edge of the cup. Dragging his finger across my breast. My nipple contracts.

  He eases my underwear and leggings off my body, pausing to press a kiss to my bent knee. Once I’m naked, I ask, “Can I touch you?” I ask because last time he was the one with his hands and mouth on me.

  “Yeah.”

  I move my hands over his pecs, tracing his nipples with my index fingers. Watching as they go stiff. His abdomen is a work of art. Tracing each separate muscle, I follow the individual shapes, learning his form. I feather my fingers along his mouthwatering obliques. He’s a study in perfection.

  Reversing our positions to get him underneath me. I use my tongue to retrace the contours of his eight-pack, making him draw in his breath sharply, and I feel those muscles move under my mouth. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been with so little stimulation.

  “My turn,” he whispers.

  His mouth devours mine. His body cushions mine and all I can think is the word more. More of his mouth. More of the pressure. I rock my hips against him.

  He moans into my neck, moving down my body, unclipping the front clasp of my bra to reveal my breasts. He sucks my nipple into his mouth. I feel a deep pull in my core.

  “I want to see you naked,” I tell him. Because last time I didn’t get that chance.

  Rolling to the side he pulls off his track pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

  Oh, God. He’s so perfect. Wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips and muscular thighs. I want to taste him. To explore every inch of his skin. I take my time, touching, licking, and running my tongue over his skin, and scraping my nails lightly down his nipples.

  I make my way down his body to his erection. He’s large. Licking my way around the base, I cup his sac gently, tonguing my way up his shaft. Exploring. Easing as much of his length as possible into my mouth. His abdominal muscles tighten, and he groans.

  “Phoebes, let me…” He pulls me up, and flips me onto my back. “My turn.”

  Kissing his way down my body, he settles between my legs. Swirling his tongue around my clit, taking his time, and using his teeth to scrape the sensitive nub with the right amount of pressure. He doesn’t stop. It doesn’t seem to matter if it takes minutes or hours to make me come. He’s relentless in pursuit of my orgasm.

  His hands cup my breasts, and his thumbs toy with my nipples, while his mouth drives me to the brink. My body zings with electricity, my nerve endings snap, behind my closed lids the color goes blinding white. Every muscle bunches, everything coils tight until it bursts like a cork popping from a bottle. My legs go stiff, and I come. “Oh my God.”

  He kisses his way up my belly and to my breasts. He licks one nipple, then the other. While I shudder in response. He reaches under the chair to retrieve the condom. Tearing the package he quickly sheathes himself.

  “Get inside me,” I beg.

  His body covers mine. “Relax,” he says while he kisses my temple.

  I spread my legs to accommodate him and tilt my hips. He enters me. Slowly at first. Stretching me. So good. So full. He thrusts and the muscles contract deep inside my core. “Yes,” I moan.

  “Oh, yes,” he groans, moving faster. Placing my hands on his butt, I feel his muscles flex and it’s so fucking sexy I almost come again. He moves deeper inside me, and my eyes nearly cross.

  He reaches between us to touch my clit while thrusting inside me. And I lose it. I go deaf and blind for those few seconds while my body erupts in pleasure. I’ve never made myself come this hard. Ever.

  Tiago pulls out to drape my legs over his shoulders. He thrusts inside me again. Hitting a spot so deep I cry out when the zap of impact fizzes inside me.

  Pumping his hips faster and faster before he comes with an explosion of breath. “Oh, yes.”

  We stay motionless with my legs draped over his shoulders. He licks the backside of my knee, setting off a new string of sensation while he’s still buried inside me, pulsing. Both of us breathe heavily, trying to come down from the euphoria. Endorphins slip through my bloodstream, spreading satisfaction.

  He withdraws, and removes the condom. He lifts the blanket, reaching over to dump the condom in the wastebasket. He rolls back to spoon with me.

  Emotions war inside my head. I try to convince myself it’s not love. It’s dopamine flowing through my system like a reward. But I know I’m sunk. He didn’t ask me to love him, and he doesn’t expect proof. Tiago doesn’t have to know. I can keep this secret close to my heart. After a few minutes, I roll on top of him because this was monumental. “There was smelting.”

  “It’s my new favorite.” His smile looks permanent, and his eyes remain closed.

  I wait for them to open and focus on mine. “Mine, too. I shouldn’t give you more reason to feel superior, but that was the best orgasm of my life,” I say, kissing him softly.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tiago

  The setting sun coats the colosseum with a golden halo as we leave the dorm. Body humming, nerve endings spiking with sensation, it feels good to be in sync with Phoebes. I don’t want to think about the fact I postponed telling her about the threat to the house. I need our lawyer to work his magic. Get us a hearing. Let us tell our side to the judge.

  Once that happens, I can open up and let Phoebe know the house is safe. And the reason I waited to tell her is the simple fact I didn’t want what her mother did to come between us. I know it’s a good plan. Besides, Phoebe isn’t involved in her thief of a mother’s schemes. No need to drag her into the fray while we’re still fighting it.

  If Detective Cabrillo comes through first, then same thing. I’ll explain to Phoebes then, once we’re in the clear. The one thing that bothers me, that circles in my head, how did Helen Sharpe manage the scam from jail? Logically, she couldn’t. The partner then. Likely the reason she destroyed evidence.

  Walking Phoebes to the area where students stash their bikes safely behind a wrought-iron enclosure, I’m clear about my decision to wait.

  She swipes her student ID at the gate. I run my hand down her hair. It’s soft and silky. Remembering how it blanketed my shoulders and chest when she flipped me on my back makes me stiffen again, wanting her.

  “Hey, can I give you a lift home?”

  “No.” She kisses me softly. “I’m fully capable of getting there all on my own.” She smiles. “B
ut thank you. I appreciate the offer.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “Goose will post the weekend schedule later today. I asked to work the first shift Saturday, so I don’t miss out on your game.”

  “Oh. Crap, I forgot. We’re away this week. I’m heading to Reno tomorrow with the team.”

  “Huh. Okay, maybe Sunday after you get back?”

  “That works. I’ll miss you,” I say, and mean it. I’m bummed we won’t see each other until Sunday.

  “Take care of my Simba,” she says as she wraps her arms around my waist.

  “Take care of my avocado,” I tease.

  I wait while she rides away from me. The sunlight shimmers in her hair, turning the color to warm honey. Damn. I have it bad. One day I might even tell her. Shit. I have to tell her. After my previous fuck-up, she’ll never say it again.

  Boy, did I screw myself over.

  When Phoebe’s out of sight, I head over to the Ludus parking lot. I’ve got to go home and prepare to take off tomorrow. I need to pack my duffel so I’m ready for roll call tomorrow before we board the bus for the five-hour trip to UNR.

  I turn onto our street and see two police vehicles parked near our house, and my heart starts to gallop in my chest. Maybe the cop pulled someone over on the street. It doesn’t have to necessarily signal something’s wrong.

  Adrenaline courses through my veins and my breath forces its way in and out of my lungs like I’ve been running flat out for a solid hour. As I draw closer, I see two cops standing on our lawn. Sweat pops on my forehead.

  Fuck. One word on repeat in my head.

  Dad? No. As soon as I think it, my gaze lands on a Realtor’s post with coming soon dangling from the sign placed on our front lawn. Turning into the driveway at a faster speed than I should, I brake hard and throw the gearshift into park. I get out of the car so fast one part of my brain registers at least one cop’s hand hovers over the gun at his side.

  Tears drip off Mom’s face unchecked. Her arms are crossed over her chest tightly and even from ten feet away I notice she’s swaying on her feet.