Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

I mean, gross, I kissed Dalton. Arrogant, sports-jock, absolute manwhore Dalton Cole.

  My stepbrother Dalton Cole.

  I shake my head, feeling my breath catch as the memory of it tingles through my body. His hands on my jaw and tangled in my hair, his body so hard against mine, his chest so strong under my fingers.

  His lips so hot against my own.

  I can barely remember the car ride back to campus with my dad. I know he was talking about football or something, but all I’m aware of is staring out the window and listening to the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

  It’s all I thought about that night, obviously. It was the memory of that kiss - that holy-shit type kiss - that had me twisting and turning under the covers in the dark. The lingering feeling of his lips against mine and his body pressed so tightly against me had the heat pooling between my legs, until I forced myself to breathe and forced myself not to act on that desire.

  Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to do that again while thinking about Dalton Cole.

  Actually, I’ll be damned if I let him get anywhere close to pulling a stunt like that again. Because as toe-curlingly, mind-blowingly hot as that kiss was, I will not be another Dalton Cole conquest. You don’t just kiss people like that, especially people who tell you they have a boyfriend.

  …Even if that is a lie.

  My reflection sours as I narrow my gaze again on the red puffiness of my lips.

  Yeah, that is NEVER happening again.

  I’m halfway to my first class of the day, coffee in hand, when the black Escalade comes to a screeching stop next to me. I jump, cursing as hot coffee spills onto my hand. I whirl to see the arrogant little shit himself leering at me from the driver’s side window.

  “Afternoon, darlin.”

  It’s that easy drawl, that charming farm-boy smile, those sharp blue eyes that make me shiver and get me warm in places I really shouldn’t be.

  No way, nope. I am not falling for this again.

  I’m not going to bite at the bait that a thousand other girls have.

  I’m not going to be some goal for him - I won’t be a score card or a notch on his bedpost or locker door.

  I glare at him once more before I turn and walk away, saying nothing. I hear him chuckle behind me as he turns off the engine, and a shiver jolts through me when I feel his hand on my bare arm.

  I take a deep breath and turn, making sure my scowl is solid before I do. “You can’t park there, you know,” I nod past him at his Escalade, parked right in the bus-lane out front of the bursar’s office.

  “Sure I can,” he says with an easy grin.

  I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, because you’re Dalton Cole?”

  He laughs, “See? You’re getting it!”

  I sigh, “I need to get to class. What do you want, Dalton?”

  He grins, that cocky look of his dancing across my eyes. “I just felt like seeing how you were doing today.” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he cocks a brow at me.

  I frown, not buying it for a minute. “Why?”

  “Well, you know, after the kiss of your life last night…”

  I roll my eyes as he trails off and grins at me. “Uh, dream on.”

  He smirks. “Oh, you’ve been kissed better than that, huh?”

  No, not ever. Not even close by a million miles.

  “Yep,” I say flippantly.

  “By Paul?” Dalton’s eyes sparkle as he grins wickedly at me.

  I swallow thickly. “Yes, by Paul,” I say testily, scowling at him. “And he’s going to be furious when he hears about what you pulled.”

  Dalton laughs. “Sounds absolutely terrifying. Will it be pistols at high noon?”

  God, he sees right through this ridiculous fake boyfriend facade. The look on his face says he doesn’t buy my terrible excuse of a lie for one single second, and I’m just embarrassing myself by continuing it.

  So I walk away.

  Dalton’s still chuckling to himself as I roll my eyes and storm away into the science building for my next class.

  “Aww c’mon, darlin. Don’t walk away mad.”

  I groan at the sound of his voice following me into the building, and I dodge him by ducking into the side stairway.

  Terrible idea.

  “Hang on.”

  I gasp as his hand grabs my arm again, pulling me back and whirling me around until I’m face to face with him - alone in the stairwell, my pulse racing.

  “So, we’re just going to conveniently forget that little detail about you kissing me back, huh?” He arches a brow at me and I swallow the lump that forms in my throat.

  “That was…temporary insanity.”

  He grins. “Oh, is that what that was?”

  “Yep.”

  “You know what I think?”

  I suck in a breath of air and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, my eyes darting across his. “What?”

  I gasp as he suddenly moves against me, pressing me back against the wall of the stairwell and making my pulse jump.

  “I think you liked kissin’ me.”

  I bite my lip, feeling the same warmth as the night before go rushing through my veins like adrenaline. I quickly shake my head. “I would never like kissing someone as crude and gross and dirty as you.”

  His eyes flash as he grins and leans closer, his lips so close to mine. I can feel my head spin with the same breath-taking quickness of last night, as if I was about to fall from a ledge without anything there to stop me.

  “See, that’s just it, darlin,” he husks out, his breath hot across my lips. I suck in a shaky breath.

  “I think you like how dirty it is kissin’ me.”

  I shake my head, my eyes never leaving his as I feel the blood pounding in my ears. “You’re out of your damn mind-”

  “I think you like feeling so bad with me.”

  God I want him to kiss me.

  It’s a terrible, mortifying thought, and one that comes completely unbidden to the front of my mind. And I want to squash it away, and bury it deep. Last night was just what I said it was - temporary insanity. It was proximity to distraction, and wicked temptation, because that’s what he is.

  Dalton Cole - temptation and distraction personified.

  And temptations and distractions are the very last thing I need. I have one semester - one semester of digging my heels in, ducking my head down, and making sure I ace the hell out of this school so that I can move to Columbia in the spring. And then I’ll leave Georgia, and football, and stupid Dalton Cole and his stupidly hot kisses behind.

  Kisses like the one we are millimeters away from repeating.

  I shiver as I feel his lips all but graze mine, his eyes glinting like cold steel as he leans in close, his hands on either side of the wall by my head. I can feel the heat from his body, and the dull throb of something big inside his pants against my leg that makes me want to roll my hips against him.

  But I don’t.

  “Dalton, people could see us here,” I whisper out shakily, my eyes darting across his as my heart threatens to jump into my throat.

  “Well maybe we should go behind closed doors then,” he says, his eyes flashing as he grins wickedly at me. “Your room’s not far is it?”

  My breath catches at his words - at the crude, wicked suggestion. I quickly shake my head. “It’s not, but I’m going there alone.”

  “Thought you had class.”

  Damn him, tripping me up like this.

  “After class.”

  Dalton grins, still so close that I can feel the warmth of his muscled, coiled body ready to pounce on me. “You know, you are really not taking advantage of college life and having no roommate.”

  “I’m enjoying it just fine,” I say, suddenly feeling indignant.

  “Maybe you should get Paul down here, I mean, how long’s it been?”

  “Since?”

  “Since you got laid, darlin,” he says with a wicked grin, a grin that only widens as I
feel my face go bright red.

  “It’s none of your business when I- when that happened.”

  He grins again, those perfect white teeth flashing behind his perfect lips set in that perfectly chiseled jaw. “But see, I really want it to be my business.”

  I think of that one and only time a month before graduation when I just decided to get it over with.

  Does forty-five seconds of awkwardness even COUNT as ‘getting laid’?

  “Not long at all,” I say with my most casual shrug, my eyes darting away from his smirking ones.

  “I’m sure.”

  I wrinkle my brow at him. “Not all of us need to have sex with skanks three times a day, Dalton.”

  He laughs, “And who says I’m banging ‘skanks’ three times a day? I mean, I need to eat, and sleep, and occasionally play some football, you know.”

  I arch my brow at him curiously. “So, you’re not-”

  “Of course not.”

  I bite my lip, hating how weirdly elated I feel hearing it.

  “I really only have time for skanks twice a day.”

  I roll my eyes as he chuckles. “I’m late for class, I have to go.”

  I push my way past him out of the stairway before he can say anything else. And then I’m ducking out of the building and storming away before I embarrass myself any further.

  I skip class, for the first time literally ever in my academic career.

  Instead, I find myself back in my room, breathless and dizzy from my exchange with Dalton.

  I glance up to see my reflection in the mirror - the pink blush to my cheeks, the swollen redness still lingering around my lips, the visible twitch of my pulse in the soft skin of my neck.

  Damn him.

  Because sitting here feeling my heart race and the raw heat pooling between my legs, I know he’s right. And I absolutely hate that he is, but he is.

  I do like how good it feels to be bad.

  And kissing Dalton Cole is the baddest, hottest thing I’ve ever felt.

  16

  Dalton

  Hailey ignores me for the next handful of days, which sucks for two major reasons. Reason one: getting under her skin is quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

  But the second giant, glaring, fireworks-going-off big red reason would be that kiss.

  I mean, damn.

  The thing is, I’d never actually meant to kiss her that night. The goal had been the same goal I’ve had since she walked into my backyard - to tease her and work her up. I wanted to get her all hot and bothered, because I can, and then leave her hanging just to prove a point

  The point that she’s not immune to me like she thinks she is.

  Except here’s the real kicker - it turns out that I’m the one that isn’t immune to her.

  That sure fucking backfired.

  And now she’s ignoring me, and dodging me, because I pushed things too far - both that night and then running into her after. Hell, I’ve probably pushed too hard every time, and now it’s biting me in the ass.

  But fuck it, right? I mean who cares - I’m Dalton Cole for fuck’s sake. There are literally a combined twenty-eight thousand other female students on this campus with their mouths hanging open for yours truly. There is no point in chasing after some cold ice-queen like Hailey Garrison.

  Actually, there are a number of extremely compelling reasons not to chase after her.

  Like our parents.

  Like her dad - the very famous, very big Coach Jim Garrison tearing me limb from limb.

  Like the gossip mill that would go into fucking overdrive.

  Like recruiters not wanting to touch me with a ten-foot pole once my public sexual shenanigans turned into something past the pale like banging my stepsister.

  I frown as I let the air pent up in my lungs out in a heavy stream.

  Jesus, I need to go get laid.

  “A clear head and a clear heart makes winners, gentleman.”

  Coach eyes us over his clipboard. Eighty-five guys sucking in lungfuls of air, eighty-five guys dripping sweat from the brutal day of practice we’ve just been through.

  Brutal, but necessary and we all know it. There’s a lot of hype surrounding me, and with the amount of media attention that’s putting on the rest of the team this year, game one can’t be lost.

  But hey, I’m not worried, I just hope the rest of these guys can catch up to my level.

  “Take a knee, boys.”

  Eight-five guys with muscles burning drop to a knee, still gasping for air. More than a few of them are eyeing me with something between envy and respect.

  Yeah, if there was any lingering theories about whether the freshman superstar was actually going to be able to live up to expectation, I’ve made sure to cut that shit out quick at practice this week. Anyone who still wants to hate on me for being the center of attention on this team isn’t thinking big picture anymore.

  Big picture like me winning them nice big championship rings.

  “Like it or not, gentlemen, we’re under a lot of pressure this year.”

  “Thanks, Cole,” someone in the back hollers out, sending laughter and hoots through the semi-circle of players.

  Yeah, Coach shuts that up real fast. One week of practice, and nobody on this team has any doubts about the abilities of or the respect earned by the “rookie” coach. Because if there was any lingering worry about the high school coach not being able to hang with the big boys in college, he made sure to bleed that dissent out of this whole team this week.

  Maybe that’s one of the reasons Hailey’s dad and I get along so well. I mean aside from the football thing - we’ve both got reputations that stepped onto the field long before we ever did, which means we’ve both got something to prove.

  “Mr. Cole is a hell of a player, but let me make a few things clear,” Coach slips his shades off and eyes us with a serious look. “It means he’s got a big damn target on his ass.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  “And that means we have a big target on our collective asses.” Coach crosses his arms over his chest, jutting his chin out. “Every single person on that field at every single game is gonna want a piece of us, just to prove we can bleed.”

  There are nods and murmurs around the players.

  “Including,” Coach pauses, shaking his head. “Including the ESPN crew that I just found out is going to be following our progress this season.”

  Shit, what?

  “For real, Coach?” Ramirez calls out, shaking his head.

  “The real deal, fellas.” He grins at us before turning his eyes on me. “Probably for some future documentary on our hall-of-famer here.”

  “You sure it’s not just for another underwear shoot?” Someone wisecracks from the back of the group, sending another round of laughter through the team. “You gonna dance around in your tighty-whities again, Cole?”

  “Only if you ask nice, shit-bag,” I call back over my shoulder, and this time even Coach cracks a grin.

  We’re winding down for the day, heading back towards the locker room, when Coach nods at me. “Hang back, son.”

  I pull my helmet off, raising a brow. “Yeah, Coach?”

  “I’m serious you know,” he eyes me with a solid look. “You’re gonna have a lot of eyes on you right now, and I need you to behave.”

  I swallow thickly and clear my throat. “Coach?”

  “You know what I mean, Dalton.”

  For a second, a cold chill runs through me as Hailey’s face and the thought of that damn kiss flashes in my head.

  Fuck, he knows.

  But then, the second the thought hits me, I’m aware of how ridiculous it is. Bullshit, if Jim Garrison knew half the crude shit I’d been saying to his daughter - not to mention me fucking kissing her, he’d have strung me up by the balls by now.

  I think he’d take that over a championship season any day.

  “Your antics, Dalton. The partying, the girls, the making a spectacle of yourself.” />
  I can feel my heart drop back down to normal pace. Jesus.

  He spreads his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging, son,” he laughs. “I’m just saying keep smart. There’s going to be a lot of cameras and eyes on you just waiting for you to screw up and prove all the naysayers right.” He looks sternly over the top of his sunglasses at me. “One scandal, one DUI, one getting caught with the wrong girl-”

  Fuck.

  “Look, I know your life seems charmed, Dalton, but one screw-up and they will eat you alive, I’m telling you.”

  I nod, and for once, I’m actually agreeing with an authority figure instead of just going through the “yes sir” motions.

  Like I said, maybe there’s a reason he and I get along so well.

  “I get you, Coach,” I say with a solemn nod. “I’m not going to let anyone down this year.”

  He nods and claps me on the back again, and I start to head to the showers when he stops me again.

  “Oh, and do me a solid, Dalton.”

  “Yeah?”

  He shrugs. “Keep an eye on Hailey for me, would you?”

  I can feel the cold sweat break out on my neck again as he looks at me sharply, my damn tell-tale heart about to beat out of the front of my fucking jersey. “Sir?”

  “I don’t know,” Coach shakes his head. “I’m worried about her not really making any effort to be social or find any friends this semester, since she’s dead set on following through with that damn deferred acceptance thing with Columbia in the spring.” He holds my gaze. “Just do me a favor and spend a little time with her, check up with her, make sure she’s not sitting in her room glued to that damn computer.”

  Yeah, WAY ahead of you, Coach.

  “You bet, Coach,” I say with a smile, trying to swallow the guilt.

  Because it just so happens, checking in on Hailey Garrison is also one of my new favorite pastimes.

  17

  Hailey

  I’m soaking wet and freezing by the time I manage to trip my way through the side-entrance to the gym. It’s dark inside, and I shiver at the chill of the air conditioning against my skin, drenched from the fall rain outside. Goosebumps break out on my arms as I hug them across my completely soaked t-shirt, and I drip my way down the hallway towards my dad’s office, leaving puddles in my wake.