One Good Play

by Meredith St. James

  As we got into the game, I found it easier to relax and joke with Travis about just how bad I really was. My football coordination didn't help me much as I struggled during my turns to get the minuscule white ball into a cup. It didn't help that every time it was my turn, Wren leaned over the table to distract me.

  The girls kicked our asses in record time. Travis was a good sport about it, but it was obvious we'd lost because of me.

  I'd half-expected Wren to rub it in, but all she did was stick her tongue out at me. Then, she bounced over to me with childlike excitement, but she didn't say a word about it.

  "Can we go get a drink?" She looked up at me and batted her eyelashes.

  "Of course."

  I put my hand on the small of her back as we moved through all the people that had crowded in to watch our game. People were still talking about us, but now I found it easier to tune most of it out. If Wren didn't care, then it seemed like maybe neither should I.

  I was quiet as we maneuvered our way through the house. The back of Wren's shirt was riding up, and my fingers grazed the bare skin. It felt earth-shattering for me, but she didn't even seem to notice. I was a complete goner when it came to her.

  Once we'd managed to fight our way into the kitchen, Wren started to fix her own drink, but I gently stopped her so that I could do it for her. I had to take my eyes off of her to look at what I was doing, but I found myself still keenly tuned in to her as she waited patiently beside me.

  "Here." I held out the cup to her.

  Just as she started to reach for it, I pulled it out of her reach. The momentum made her lose her balance, and she was forced to step closer to me to steady herself. She ended up basically plastered against me. I put my free arm around her waist, holding her there.

  "I just want to make sure you weren't planning on me wearing this one."

  I brushed the back of my hand against the pink that tinged her cheeks. Her skin was crazy soft against my knuckles roughed up from years of football.

  "You mean to tell me you don't want a repeat of your own personal wet t-shirt contest?" Her eyes dropped down to my chest like she was remembering what it had looked like through my drenched shirt.

  "Maybe that's what you want," I taunted.

  She gave me a blatant once-over. "Maybe so."

  "You shouldn't tease about that." I gulped.

  "Show me your room, Carter." Her voice had dropped lower than normal, into a sexy, raspy tone that really turned me on. She grabbed the cup I was still holding and set it on the counter next to us, no longer concerned with drinking it.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Lead the way."

  As I ushered her towards the main hall of the house, I felt myself reverting back to how I'd felt after first meeting her. I had no idea how to handle a woman like her. I'd hooked up with women before. I'd even had a few pretty decent hookups since getting to college.

  None of those women were Wren.

  Wren was special. I'd known it since the first night I'd met her, but she'd really proven it when she'd surprised me with the petting zoo trip. To anyone else, something like that wouldn't have been earth-shattering. For me, it was proof that this incredible woman cared enough about me to plan something where she knew I'd be more at ease. I wasn't sure I deserved her.

  She was kind, and vibrant, and beautiful. I'd never met anyone else like her. The closer we got to my room, the more unsure I felt.

  "This is my room," I warned her when we stopped in front of my door at the end of the main hall. All the bedrooms got locked during parties, so I pulled my key out of my pocket.

  She tossed her head back and laughed. "I know."

  "Don't laugh." I was smiling. "You're making me nervous."

  She surprised me by sliding in between me and the door. She leaned into me, taking the key out of my hand so she could unlock the door herself.

  I took quick stock of my room, suddenly panicked about whether or not she'd find it acceptable. It was a little messy, though by no means dirty. My football gear was strewn about, outnumbered only by my collection of books.

  "Looks like you read quite a bit," she commented, running her finger over the spine of a mystery novel.

  "Yeah, sometimes." A massive understatement.

  "What else do you do in here?"

  "That sounds like a loaded question." I cleared my throat as she turned to stare at me.

  Her eyes were on me but her mind seemed a million miles away. I could practically see the war she was waging with herself.

  "Wren?" I cringed at the obvious nervousness in my voice.

  Her feet carried her closer to me. My heart felt like it might beat out of my chest as I watched her through hooded eyes. She stepped up toe-to-toe with me, her head tilting back so she could keep her eyes locked on mine. Her hands found their way to my chest, smoothing the worn material of my Kelley University t-shirt.

  My eyes drifted over her. I watched goosebumps form on her arms.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  12

  Wren

  Outside the room, I could hear the overwhelming evidence that the party was still going on. It was ruining the moment. Possibly sensing how preoccupied I was, Carter eased back to look at me.

  "Are you okay?"

  I ran a finger across the stubble on his chin—something I'd been longing to do for weeks. "All that noise is distracting."

  "Do you want me to make them leave?"

  I would have thought he was joking if not for the serious expression that remained on his face. The guy could barely stand to be in a crowded room, but I had no doubt that he'd go personally tell everyone to leave if I asked him to. I had no idea what I'd done to earn that kind of devotion, but I savored it.

  "No." I glanced around the room. "Here."

  I pulled out of Carter's grasp to turn the radio on. A jazzy tune I'd never heard before started playing, and I cranked the sound up. It drowned out the noise of the party. My mind started to relax again, which in turn helped Carter to relax.

  Patiently, Carter waited for me to return to him. Instead, I beckoned him towards the bed.

  "Are you sure about this?"

  In answer, I tugged him closer.

  "You're beautiful," he said.

  "Thank you." It wasn't the compliment I was thanking him for, but rather that he'd had the nerve to say it.

  I pulled at the hem of Carter's shirt until he understood what I wanted. He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his bare upper body to me for the first time. I'd seen pictures, of course. They were littered all over campus in athletic magazines. Nothing could be better than the real thing, though.

  His well-defined six-pack called to me. I ran a finger between the hard ridges, feeling the way he tensed under my light touch. Once I felt momentarily satisfied, I dragged him down to the bed with me. We laughed as the whole frame bounced with the sudden weight.

  Our mouths fused. Without his shirt, I had unrestricted access to so much of his bare skin that it overwhelmed me. I couldn't touch all of him fast enough. I felt frenzied. As if I couldn't get close enough to satisfy myself. One of my hands dropped to stroke against the front of his pants.

  "Slow down," he warned in between kissing me, "There's no rush."

  I didn't have the words for what I wanted to tell him. That everything was a rush. That life was so fleeting, and it didn't wait around to make sure you'd gotten what you needed. If you waited to get what you wanted then you were apt to lose everything before you actually got it. Life was a race, I'd learned that, and it was one I was determined to win.

  Lying in his bed with him, it wasn't the time for that kind of conversation. Instead, I kept pressing forward. Trying to make him understand that slow wasn't an option.

  I snuggled closer to him on the bed, my hips pressing insistently against him. He groaned and reciprocated by flipping me over so that he was holding himself up over me. I clawed at his back, desperately wanting to feel the weight of his body on mine. Still, h
e was moving too slowly for my taste.

  "Too many clothes," I sighed, fumbling with the clasp of my jeans since it was the only thing I could really reach.

  He put a hand over mine, stilling me. As he stayed balanced over me with one arm, he raised my hands to his lips with the other. I wasn't expecting the gentle kiss he placed across my knuckles. My eyes stopped focusing on the space between us, and instead, I looked up into his eyes. He looked so sincere. It was like he was trying to memorize every detail of that moment.

  So many words started to form in my mind. I was struck by the sudden desire to tell him everything—where I'd been and why. He deserved to know what had come before him, and why it meant that I couldn't give myself to him fully. Not the way he wanted me to, at least.

  "Relax," he whispered into my ear, "It's just you and me here."

  They were the exact right words I needed. They served as a reminder to kick my ghosts out of my thoughts. There wasn't enough room in that full-sized bed for all of us.

  "I need you," I whimpered, raw honesty leaking out of me.

  He was unexpectedly gentle as he guided my sweater up my body and over my head. When it stuck on one of my arms I flung it away. Carter stared down at the curve of my dark purple bra as if I was a wrapped gift and it was Christmas morning. He gave me chills as he ran his fingers along the underwire, barely grazing my skin.

  I leaned up on my elbows so he could reach behind me and unhook it. He did so like a pro. A quick snap of jealousy turned my eyes green as I wondered how many times he'd done it before. How many other women he'd had in that same bed before me.

  "Just you and me," he said again. I wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or mine, but I clung to the words.

  "Carter," I whispered, overcome by the need just to say his name.

  The world suddenly seemed to move at hyper speed. Carter's hands ran up my bare chest, my back arching up to meet him when his coarse fingertips brushed the sensitive peaks of my nipples. I practically came off the bed when he lowered his head to kiss the places his fingers had touched.

  The friction of our jeans rubbing against each other became too much to bear until finally, we were pulling away from each other to rip off our respective pairs of pants and underwear. They fell together in a heap next to the bed. Laughter rang out as we came together again, but I wasn't sure whose it was. It seemed like we became entangled until I could no longer figure out what breaths, words, or body parts belonged to who.

  My head swam with emotions that I couldn't place. I was vaguely aware that I was experiencing something I could never come back from.

  Fingers dragged down the length of my body as Carter trailed down to the heat between my legs. When he found how wet I was for him he groaned, pressing more fully against me. There was no doubt he could easily pleasure me with his hands alone, but I didn't have the patience for it. I pulled him back up so our lips could meet.

  "I need—"

  There was no reason for me to finish my request. Already, Carter had rolled slightly to the side to reach into his nightstand. When he started to tear open the condom packet he'd retrieved, I stopped him.

  "Let me," I begged.

  I watched in fascination as he leaned back with a calm grin. I had no idea how he could look so relaxed when I felt like I was tearing out of my own skin. He handed over the packet, giving me permission to do the honors. It was an excuse for me to get a good look at his cock for the first time before he buried it inside of me.

  The act of rolling the condom over him was more intimate than I'd meant it to be. It felt like the act of a true lover, not of someone having casual sex. I could feel his eyes watching me like a hawk, taking in my every motion. I marveled at how perfectly formed his cock was—just like the rest of him.

  Once I was done Carter took over again. He maneuvered me over on the bed so that he was back on top. I ceded control to him, even though it went against my instinct not to let anyone ever have the upper hand.

  "You and me," he said the words again. They had somehow become our mantra in that bedroom. They were the last thing I heard before he pressed into me, bringing me unimaginable pleasure. And something else I hadn't dared to hope for in so long—real emotion.

  Tears sprang to my eyes.

  "Am I hurting you?"

  "No. Keep going. Please."

  My nails dug into his back as he pressed forward until there was nowhere left to go. Euphoria swept over me as I took it all in.

  The sensation of being so deliciously full.

  The emotions ransacking my heart.

  The tender way Carter looked down at me to make sure I was okay.

  My eyes threatened to flutter closed, but I forced myself to keep them open. Carter had the right idea. I wanted to memorize every detail, too.

  He started moving slowly, but when I arched up he pumped faster. He worshiped my body with quick, hard thrusts that made me forget my own name.

  "More," I begged.

  He met my breathless cry by moving over me with renewed energy. I threw my head back, crying out in ecstasy as he sent me over the edge. I bucked desperately under him while I rode out my own pleasure. Mine triggered his, and soon he was groaning as he found his own release.

  After he rolled off of me he got up to ditch the condom. I smiled lazily up at him when he crawled back into the bed beside me. Both of us were panting as we struggled to breathe normally again.

  Carter skimmed his finger down my arm. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For being here."

  His eyes closed, which kept him from seeing the way his words made me tense up. They were too familiar. I'd heard those exact words before, but coming from another man. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, but the memory still made me nauseous.

  The panic had started low in my gut but quickly worked its way up and into a lump in my throat. I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. I opened my eyes to find that Carter had drifted to sleep. He looked so peaceful, which didn't seem fair when I felt such turmoil.

  I couldn't fall for him. But I also wasn't totally convinced that it wasn't already too late.

  13

  Carter

  I could already feel that the bed beside me was empty, even before I'd opened my eyes. I wondered if I could get away with just never opening them again. Then maybe I could find a way to pretend none of it had ever happened. That I hadn't had the best sex of my life with the woman of my dreams, only for her to leave without a word.

  Someone striking the bedroom door interrupted my internal griping. "We're going to lunch," one of the guys yelled out. I couldn't tell which one by the voice. There were nearly a dozen of us living in the house, and who knew how many extras had stayed the night after the party.

  No one had ever had to wake me up for a team meal before. Usually, I was the earliest riser. I forced one of my eyes to open and peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. I pushed the empty condom wrapper away in disgust so I could get a better look. Sure enough, it was nearly noon.

  "I'm coming," I forced myself to answer.

  Sitting up in the bed, I took note of the way my clothes were neatly folded on top of the dresser. I wanted to believe it was a sign that Wren hadn't rushed out. That maybe she'd hoped I would wake up and stop her from leaving. The fact remained, she had left.

  "Take the fucking hint, dude," I muttered to myself.

  I banged around the room while I got ready. Dresser drawers were yanked open and then shoved closed. Shirts fell to the closet floor as I tousled their hangers violently. My mood was foul, and I was starting to debate bailing on lunch when knuckles rapped against my door, interrupting again.

  "I said I was coming," I griped as I nearly ripped the door off the hinges.

  The sight of Travis with pinched eyebrows and a scowl sank my mood another level. Of course. Of all the people the team could have sent to retrieve me.

  "What?" I snapped when he wouldn't stop staring at me.

  "Not
hing." He looked away from me, bracing himself against the doorway awkwardly. "If you're walking over with us we're getting ready to leave."

  Sundays had been unofficially designated as team lunch days since before I'd gotten to Kelley. Even on a good day, those lunches annoyed the hell out of me. We were always interrupted twice as much by other students than when we ate alone or in smaller groups. It was almost like seeing us all together dehumanized us in the eyes of football fans.

  "I'm almost ready," I muttered. I yanked the t-shirt in my hand over my head as proof.

  I shoved past Travis to get to the bathroom directly across the hall. I shared it with two other guys, but I'd gotten lucky and no one was in there. They were all probably ready to go and just waiting for me, I realized bitterly. I let the door slam shut behind me as I fished around in the medicine cabinet for the toothpaste I liked.

  Instead of diving into good hygiene right away, I put my things down on the countertop and looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. The skin under my eyes was dark as if I hadn't slept at all. That wasn't too far of a stretch. Wren and I had been up well into the early hours of the morning together. I'd obviously fallen asleep at some point, but it couldn't have been for very long if my dark circles were any indication.

  Being with Wren had been like being on the football field. I'd felt stuck in the moment, knowing every move I made mattered. And it had felt right, like I belonged there. That was how I felt on game days, too. If only the rest of football felt that way, then maybe I could erase my doubts about the future of my football career.

  "Seriously, dude. Come on!"

  With a hard roll of my eyes, I splattered toothpaste on the brush and shoved it in my mouth. I made quick work of finishing up in the bathroom so that the guys would stop bitching about me holding up lunch. Apparently, they didn't realize the bathroom window was propped open because I could hear them talking outside the house.

  "I'm ready," I told them as I breezed past them on the front walkway.