by J Santiago
“I need you,” he said, holding her close to him, toying with her breast, rubbing against her. “I need more.”
Amber nodded her head. Removing his hand from under her shirt, he grabbed her hand in his and pulled her away from the crowd. He looked back at her as they moved through the field, a quick sweep that took in the boots and the skirt and her hair pulled to the side, covering her neck. Her body seemed to pulse with need. He could feel it mirroring his. Turning back, he moved toward the barn, the source of the power for the party. Pulling her forward, he turned the corner, and they disappeared around the side of the barn, away from the partygoers.
Gently pushing her up against the barn, Tank grabbed her hands and intertwined his fingers with hers while leaning in and pinning her with his body. Looking into her fathomless brown eyes, he was struck by his general sense of ease with her.
“Hi,” he said, grinning down at her.
“Hey,” she responded. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, putting her nervousness on display for him.
Dropping a quick kiss, he gently drew her lower lip into his mouth, mimicking her movements from a moment before. At her sharp intake of breath, he kissed her hard, possessing her mouth, hoping to swallow all of her warnings before she could make them. He pulled back, trying to slow himself down, recognizing his desire to possess her absolutely.
“Did you watch the game?” he said as he rested his forehead against hers.
“Yes,” she responded. “You ran the ball too much,” she added confidently.
Groaning, he released one of her hands and rolled away from her, leaning back on the barn. Squeezing her other hand, he said, “So I’ve been told.”
She’d distracted him for a moment. He let the game scroll through his head.
“Third quarter, third and seven, on the forty-seven-yard line. Iman was wide open on the left side, but you didn’t even look. Your first option was covered, but you had plenty of time. That was the most obvious one,” she responded clinically, like she was dissecting the game for him.
Franco had wanted to review film, but this girl had made a spot-on assessment with only one viewing. Although he was annoyed with everyone else who had told him he ran too much, the analysis coming from her mouth made his lust blaze even hotter. Rolling his head to the side so that he could see her, he watched her pulse jump in her neck.
Then, he gave in to it.
He moved quickly. Releasing her hand, he spun back to face her, pinning her against the barn, taking possession of her mouth, grabbing her thighs and placing them around his waist. He pressed into her, and the contact of his erection with her pulsing center made them both moan loudly and move in a frenzied motion to get closer. Her boots hooking around his back allowed his hands the freedom to roam her body. As he pulled her shirt up, his mouth found her nipple through her bra, and she cried out as he gently bit down, feasting on her. He couldn’t get close enough.
“I need to be inside you, Amber,” he said raggedly in her ear as they continued to rub against each other. “Please tell me it’s okay.”
Amber was caught in a maelstrom, tossed about the sea, with no control over her body as the ocean shifted her about from place to place. Sometimes, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, like the current was too much and she needed air. But her body knew the rhythm, knew how to swim with the current, knew the way to go without her mind being in it at all. That Tank Howard was the maelstrom didn’t matter. He ruled her, like she was a tiny rowboat in the middle of a magnificent storm.
She wanted him. But she didn’t know why she wanted him, and that scared the shit out of her.
Was just this her? A glorified cleat-chaser who just wanted to be with the next big thing? Or even scarier, did she just want this man in front of her, regardless of who he was or what he could do?
She didn’t know.
As he toyed with her body and all but forced the decision from her with his clever hands, amazing mouth, and hot body, she tried to gather her senses. Would having sex with him extricate her from this unbelievable desire? She couldn’t make a rational decision with her legs wrapped around him and his mouth on her breast. As time between his plea and her nonanswer marched on, he pulled his mouth away from her and started to slowly put distance between them.
He put his hand around the back of her neck and stroked up her scar with his thumb. Her legs were still around his waist, but he was no longer flush against her.
“It’s okay,” he said, his light eyes boring into her.
Without even knowing she’d made a decision, she brought her hand up to his, her palm pressing into the back of his hand. Turning her mouth to place a kiss there, she conceded to him.
So, she was surprised when he gently tugged his hand from beneath hers, and he unhooked her legs from around him. As her feet dropped to the ground, he held on to her waist, as if he knew he needed to steady her. Her startled gaze met his. She searched for some explanation in his shockingly green orbs. But he merely smirked before dropping his forehead to hers, effectively breaking eye contact. They stayed like that, their panting breaths calming, their wits returning.
He leaned away from her and then down, pressing kisses along the corner of her mouth, over the deep scar that pulled her mouth a touch lower, over the webbing on her jaw and neck. He settled there, learning her scars, peeling away layers of her hardened resistance. It was headier than any sex she’d ever had. Her head swam from the tenderness, and her body pulsed from the feeling of his warm, wet mouth on the mostly numb, puckered skin on her face and neck. Her heart rate kicked up, the pulse point in her neck thumping to some Tank-inspired rhythm.
He stepped away, dropping back to lean against the barn, leaving space between their shoulders, terminating their contact. It took a moment for the churning inside her to halt, for awareness to return.
She took in the scene around her. Shadows of reds and blues bounced around in the periphery of her vision. The sound of police sirens filtered in from the distance.
“Guess the party’s over,” she said flippantly, beating him to the punch. She felt the sting of his rejection.
Tank eyed her suspiciously. But the shutters were back in place, and she continued to straighten her clothes.
Straightening her skirt, she looked up to meet his eyes. “I have to go find Keira. And you need to slink out of here.”
She started to walk away, but he grabbed her hand, staying her.
“Wait,” he said. “Tilly won’t let anything happen to Keira. We’ll walk back together.”
He started to move toward her, but she put her hand out on his chest to stop him.
“Tank, I’ll find Keira on my own.” She looked away from him, his green eyes too much to take in at the moment. She hated that she was hurt. She shouldn’t have gone down this road. “Look,” she said, “nothing good can come of this. Let’s just leave it as it is.”
She turned and started walking away. But he had to go in the same direction, so walking together was inevitable. They didn’t touch, and there was enough space, physically and emotionally, that no one would put them together. As soon as they got near other people, it was easy for Amber to get lost in the crowd. So, she did.
Ten
At dinner the next night, Amber leaned against her grandmother’s counter, pretending to be available if she needed help. But they both knew it was a front. Nona was the only person Amber allowed to mother her. Amber accepted Nona’s coddling, fawning, desire to feed, and unconditional love.
“Why were you late?” Nona asked her.
Amber wove her hair around her finger, trying to concentrate on being in her grandmother’s kitchen and not on her evening of almost debauchery with Tank Howard. “I was waiting for Dad. When he didn’t come home by four, I figured he’d just end up meeting me here.”
“Did you talk to him? It’s almost five now, and he’s still not here.”
“Nah, I haven’t talked to him.”
Nona sighed. “When was th
e last time you spoke to him?”
Trying to exonerate both herself and her father, she explained, “We work opposite hours, and he’s obviously been super busy.”
Nona rolled her eyes, making Amber laugh. “I know you think I am naive and don’t know the way things work. But you living with him now is not the right thing. You should be here with me and Papa. We’d be able to take care of you.”
“We’ve been over this. I need to be on my own now, Nona. I truly appreciate your generosity and love, but it’s time for me to confront my issues. I’m twenty-three. I don’t need to be taken care of.” She tried to disguise her irritation because she loved her grandparents so much, but she didn’t want to have this same conversation yet again.
“You were in a very serious car accident recently. When I think that we could have lost you…” Nona stopped talking, her eyes filling with tears, the way they did whenever the accident was mentioned. Her grandmother turned away and grabbed a tissue to pat her eyes.
As she did every time this happened, Amber laughed it off. “You’re being dramatic. And I’m fine. Look at me.” But that was the wrong thing to say.
There weren’t many people who could look at her and not flinch at the scars. Except for Tank, she remembered. Almost as if she were up against the barn, she felt his kisses along her scars and her body’s reaction to the gesture.
Feeling her face get warm, embarrassed to be thinking about her desire in her grandmother’s kitchen, she moved to hug out her guilt with a quick embrace. “It’s all good. I promise.”
“Well, I’m worried about your father. I’m going to call him to see what’s taking him so long.”
The only hours during the week when Amber could not evade her father were from four to seven o’clock every Sunday when the whole family was expected for Sunday dinner. He always dropped whatever he was doing to pick her up at a quarter to four to head to her grandparents’ house. Normally, it would be a quiet ride once they got past the meaningless questions about rehab, work, and her disposition. Beyond that, they shared nothing, each wrapped up in their own thoughts on the way to dinner. On the way home, they’d typically have one family scandal, issue, or problem they could discuss to fill the gap. He would drop her off at home and head back to work. She could then avoid him for the rest of the week until Sunday rolled around again.
After the accident, the family had all expected her to come home and live with her grandparents. But she’d known from day one that she would go to her father’s house instead. His house offered the solitude she wanted without the probing but gentle presence of her Nona. It had been a battle. No one was fooled, especially not her father. They’d created a crevasse in their relationship that neither seemed willing or able to traverse. He accepted that she needed a place to heal how she saw fit, and he’d offered it to her because, quite frankly, he wouldn’t deny her anything she ever wanted.
“He’s got too much going on at work. He’s not going to make it tonight,” Nona informed her.
Amber breathed a sigh of relief at the news that she wouldn’t have to deal with his guilt-ridden presence tonight. She had enough craziness going on inside.
It never dawned on her that her father rarely missed a meal at her grandparents’. Nor did she contemplate the enormity of whatever the problem could be that kept him away that night.
When Amber pulled into the driveway of her dad’s house, it was close to nine. After dinner, she’d stayed to help clean up since her father wasn’t hustling off to get back to work. She saw her dad’s car but rejoiced over the dark house, figuring he was asleep. Almost skipping with glee at the way her Sunday was turning out, she opened the door, dropped her keys on the table, and headed toward her room. As she made her way through the living room, she noticed a shadow and almost jumped out of her skin.
“What the hell? Shit, you scared me to death!” she exclaimed as she saw him sitting on the couch in the corner with a drink in his hand. “Why is it so damn dark in here?”
“That’s three cuss words in three sentences. I hope you didn’t expose your grandparents to that mouth,” he said somewhat drolly, like he felt the need to mention it but didn’t care one way or the other.
Amber moved toward the wall and hit the switch for the light. Her father drew back, closing his eyes, as if the light blinded him. She heard the ice move in his glass and saw a tumbler in his hand filled with a rich golden liquid.
“Rough day at the office?” she quipped. She wasn’t sticking around to find out why he looked like shit. She began to head toward her room.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” he said.
Shocked, Amber stopped walking and turned around to face her father. She didn’t even know what to say or how to act or what to think about his statement. She merely stood there, in the middle of the room, looking at him.
“I’m not sure if you know this, but Cy, our sports information guy, monitors all the guys’ social media accounts and any app that have their names in them. Facebook, websites, Instagram. It’s his worst nightmare. Apparently, fans open up accounts in athletes’ names, so watching all of that is a full-time job for an intern.”
He didn’t say anything else, but she felt her stomach plummet, and the food she’d inhaled at her grandmother’s started to churn. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to acknowledge his statement or chalk it up to general information.
Unable to take the silence, she said, “Uh, I didn’t know they had to do that, but I guess it’s not surprising.”
“You don’t have social media.”
Again, it was a statement that she wasn’t sure what to do with. Should she respond or not?
“No. I don’t have any of that stuff anymore.”
“Hmm,” was all she got.
Silence reigned supreme. She took him in, something she hadn’t done in a while. Her dad was a good-looking dude. Their hair was the same color when she didn’t dye hers—a blue-black. Their eyes were mirror images—chocolate brown. When she was little, she’d wanted blue eyes, but she’d gotten over that a long time ago. He was a big man with wide shoulders and a flat stomach. She knew he did well with the women although she supposed that had to stop now that she was living with him. That was one sacrifice she hadn’t thought about when she made her plan.
Since he hadn’t said anything in what seemed like an hour, Amber turned again to head to her room.
“We’re not done.”
“Done with what?” she snapped. “You haven’t said a damn thing. You’re just making stupid statements and looking at your drink.”
He suddenly yet gracefully got up and set his drink down. He pulled his phone from his back pocket as he walked toward her, tapping keys as he went. “You want to explain to me what you were doing with Tank Howard?” he said as he shoved his phone into her line of vision.
The picture on the screen was erotic. It was when they were dancing. Their bodies were totally entwined, but neither one of them could see the other’s face as Tank was behind her with his arms all over her body. Her face was a mask of ecstasy, her eyes drugged, her smile sexy. His mirrored hers. It was a picture of two lovers who were completely engrossed with each other. To her horror, she had to admit that it was soft porn. Someone could look at that picture and get hot quickly. She couldn’t believe her father had seen this picture of his daughter. No wonder he was drinking.
“We were dancing,” she answered, knowing it was insufficient but not knowing what else she could say.
“Looks to me like more than dancing, but what do I know?” He paused.
She could feel his anger vibrating through him. And she really couldn’t blame him.
“I’ve heard that Tank has been with a different girl every night since the Georgia win. Is that what you are? A groupie whore? I just want to make sure I know if I’ve raised a girl who spreads her legs for the best athlete on campus.”
A rage like no other jolted through her body. Before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him
across the face. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t screwed Tank last night—she knew she would have if he hadn’t stopped—but her father had already made up his mind.
He didn’t even flinch. “Should I take that to mean that the truth hurts? When Rowdy’s parents were hurling all those accusations, should I not have defended you? Is this who you are?” he said calmly, as if he were asking her if she wanted milk in her cereal.
“Fuck you!” she said, her voice devoid of inflection, as tears pooled in her eyes and began to run, unchecked, down her face.
“I was really proud when this picture was shoved in my face this morning. Really proud, Amber.”
“I hate you. Don’t sit there and disguise your parental concern. This has nothing to do with me. This has everything to do with your precious Tank Howard, your star fucking player, whose coattails you’ve been riding since signing day three years ago. Wouldn’t want Tank to get any bad press, would you, Coach? What would people think about Tank if they knew he was with the girl who had brought down Rowdy Daniels? His fucking silver image would be tainted. Isn’t that what you’re worried about? Coach Franco’s whore of a daughter shacking up with his protégé? They might even think you whored me out. Come to State, and I’ll let you fuck my daughter. Well, let me tell you something, Coach. When Tank was fucking me up against the wall last night, you, your fucking national championship, and the goddamn Heisman were the furthest things from his mind.”
She saw it, the moment when she’d pushed too far. He raised his hand, and she waited for the slap that would send her flying across the room. God knew she deserved it. But the anger seeped out of him, and he stepped away from her.
